#Hasn't left my brain sense I watched it

[royalberryriku]

Hello, yes? I’d like too Google Search “How to get California Gurls” out of my head... Yes... the one with the guy singing over it version please, that version. 

[starrystevie]

18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3

it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.

or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.

steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.

it isn't long until he figures out why.

timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.

"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."

once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.

"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"

timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.

"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.

steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.

"what are-" he starts.

eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."

they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.

"eddie."

"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."

they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.

"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.

"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."

steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"

"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.

they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.

he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.

he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.

"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.

"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.

his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."

steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."

eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."

"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."

his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."

steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.

"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.

their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.

but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.

the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.

"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.

if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.

eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.

steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.

soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.

he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.

"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."

"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."

it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.

"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"

he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.

he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.

"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"

he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"

steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.

"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."

it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.

steve says eddie and it brings him home.

afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.

steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.

"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."

steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."

there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.

he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.

but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.

[echobx]

Barry leaves, asking Rafe to watch his sister, who overhears and objects. Despite her attempts to seduce Rafe, He declines. That night after Barry goes to sleep he confesses his love to her and they have passionate slow sex

Rafe Cameron × Barry's little sister!reader

warnings: p in v (protected), fingering, light oral (fem receiving)

word count: 2.2k

author's note: I hope what I did here is not dissapointing you bestie 💕and if I'ma 100% honest with you, my brain never comes up with anything for Rafe so this is a blessing because I need to write him more (accidentally wanted to write "need to ride him" there lol)

You're standing in the kitchen of your trailer, your big brother and his friend Rafe are sitting on the couch just a few feet away from you. You never intend to eavesdrop on them, especially because you really don't want to know about all the illegal shit your brother gets up to. You've learned to keep out of Barry's business and only ever do something when he specifically asks you to. Like the one time he needed you to smuggle something over the border, so you packed your suitcase, and your innocent best friend, and had a girl's trip. No one would suspect a cute and innocent looking girl like you to be the sister of one of the biggest fish in the OBX. 

“I need you to stay here, make sure no one comes around and tries anything while I go pick up the new shit,” Barry says in a low voice, not wanting you to listen of course.  “Isn't she old enough, though?” Rafe asks and you smile into yourself a little. You like that he trusts you more than your brother does, but then again it's the simple brotherly instinct to want to have you taken care of. And who better to do that then his best friend. Of course.  “Just keep an eye on her,” Barry sighs.  “I don't need a babysitter,” you speak up and turn around to look at them both.  “Who said anything about babysitting?” Rafe cocks his eyebrow up, trying his best to seem innocent.  “Exactly,” Barry hesitates. “Rafe will just wait for me here until I get back. No babysitting. Just waiting and you're here too, sis.”  “Ugh, you guys are the worst,” you groan and walk back into your room. 

You decide to go through your closet, putting on a pair of dungarees over a simple red top first and walking back into the living area. Barry had left already, and you decided to play a little game with Rafe, unbeknownst to him.  “What do you think?” you ask and twirl around, and he lifts his head to look at you.  “Cute,” he notes and dips his head again, looking back to his phone.  You go and try on something else. A mini skirt and loop top, showing off your belly button piercing.  “How about this?” you ask him again and this time his eyes linger for a little longer, but he just shrugs.  “Looks good to me.”  You groan and stomp back into your room. Picking out a shirt that is basically see-through and a pair of hot pants that really should probably not count as pants, but panties.  You step back out and walk straight over to him, placing yourself in front of him and twirling your hair.  Rafe's eyes get stuck on your tits before he looks up at you and gulps. “That's something,” he rasps and lifts his hips in his seat, but he doesn't go further. 

Not only are you frustrated because none of your attempts have shown any real effect, but also because all you want is for him to just fuck you. It's not really that easy to find a guy when you have a brother who threatens anyone you even think about bringing home. But Rafe's at your place basically every single day. Barry finds him trustworthy enough to stay with you while he's out. And on top of that, you know of the rumors. You know of Rafe's reputation. He takes what he wants, and he doesn't leave until he's satisfied. That's what you wanted for yourself. Especially for your first time.  Which is why it also doesn't make sense to you that he hasn't made a move on you yet, especially considering how you always flirt with him as soon as Barry leaves the room. 

You decide to let it go, instead only putting on an oversized shirt, no bra and a pair of shorts. Your usual look, basically.  When you come back out, Rafe's already looking at you, he's smiling.  “I like that one too,” he says, and you roll your eyes.  “Whatever.”  “Since when do you have a piercing?” Rafe asks and watches you sit down on the other end of the couch.  “Few months ago. Thought if I hide it long enough, my brother can't tell me off about it anymore,” you shrug, bored out of your mind really. And you don't realize that Rafe keeps talking to you about you, and not just about random shit like usually. He asks about your favorite things, and he doesn't even make fun of you for how polar opposite it all is to how people perceive you.  No one would expect a trailer park chick to be a math nerd, or like classical music the same amount as rap. But Rafe finds it fascinating. He's practically enamored by you, but you're too stuck in your head to even really notice it. 

“This is prolly the best shit I had in months,” Barry grins while walking in, taking a small bag of shit out of his backpack and throwing it towards Rafe. “Think we can at least triple that,” he says, and goes to stash the rest.  Rafe is dipping his pinky into the powder and rubs it on his gums. “Oh, that's good,” he nods and leans back.  They spend the rest of the night talking about how much they can take for it and the usual split. And you just sit there, watching and listening and zoning out and thinking about more fun things, like, what if Rafe didn't just see Barry's little sister in you.

The night progresses and you go to your room, telling them you're tired, when you really are just not in the mood to listen to them any longer.  That's how you found yourself, two hours later, lying in your bed, body turned away from the door but still wide awake when the door opens and closes with a soft creak.  “Y/n?” Rafe asks and you pretend to be asleep. “Are you awake?”  You keep your eyes closed in case he walks around your bed to check on it, but he doesn't, instead he just sits down next to you and sighs.  “I don't know how to keep doing this, to keep pretending like I don't care,” he whispers, and your heart starts beating a little faster. “But I can't do what I want to either. I'm not supposed to- Fuck, y/n, I wish I could tell you how much I love you,” he sighs, and you rip your eyes open. 

“You what?” You flip around and stare at him.  Rafe looks at you, completely flabbergasted, he really didn't expect you to hear him. But now it's too late, and he can't take it back anymore. “I'm in love with you,” he whispers, and you sit up. “And I don't- I can't keep going like this, not when you do shit like today and all I can think of is bending you over and fucking you until you beg me to stop.”  “Then do it,” you whisper.  “What?”  “Fuck me.” You look at him and he shakes his head.  “Barry would kill me.”  “I don't care about my brother. I don't want my brother. I want you,” you tell him and lean in to kiss him. 

It's a gentle peck that you place on his soft lips. Rafe takes his hands up to hold onto your neck as he reciprocates the kiss, harshly and with a demanding manner that makes you feel like putty in his hands.  You try to stay quiet, but the way his tongue presses against yours makes you want to moan louder than you ever anticipated from a simple kiss. But Rafe knows what he wants, and now that he's had a taste, he's not stopping.  His hands find your waist, running up and taking your shirt off you. Rafe stops kissing you to admire your body, hands groping at the flesh of your tits, and you have to bite your lip to not moan.  “Take off your shirt,” you whisper, and he follows suit, throwing it somewhere on the floor before starting to kiss down your body. Lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, then farther down, sucking your piercing between his teeth before kissing your clothed clit.  “You smell so good, baby,” he moans against your cunt, before slapping against your thigh, and you instinctively lift your hips and let him take off your slip. 

“If that's not the prettiest pussy I've seen in my life,” Rafe hums before licking a stride up your slick folds and closing his lips around your sensitive bud. Shallow moans and quiet gasps leave you as you grasp into his hair, trying to hold onto anything you can get your hands on while he edges you on.  “More, please, Rafe,” you beg and he looks up with a smirk.  “Want me to fuck you, baby?”  “Yes, please, please.”  Rafe thrusts his fingers into your tight hole and your back arches up. His fingers curl up and prod against your walls, making you squirm under him.  “God, you're tight, it's almost like-” he stops and looks at you. “Have you never had sex?”  You feel ashamed at first, but you can't lie, you know he's gonna find out eventually. So you shake your head and hope he doesn't mind.  “Jesus, baby, you should've said something. I would've come over and fucked you way earlier if that's all you wanted this whole time,” he whispers and kisses you, his hand still working on your pussy until you feel like you're about to explode.  “Cum for me, baby, I know you want to. Soak my fingers,” he growls into your ear, and you let go. Your moans are swallowed by his lips on yours and his fingers fuck you through your high until you lie there, panting and happier than ever. 

“Need more,” you rasp and pull on his shorts, trying to open the button.  “Really needy, aren't you,” Rafe chuckles and gets up to take off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes go wide when you see how big he is. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to pick Rafe of all people for your first time, but there’s no going back now. You watch him pump his dick a few times before rolling on a condom and coming back to kneel between your legs.  “You have to tell me if it hurts. I don't wanna hurt you,” he says, and you nod, biting your lips in anticipation.  His tip nudges your hole, and you take a deep breath as he starts pushing into you. Forgetting that he wanted to go slow, Rafe bottoms out, and you feel like you're being split in two.  “Shit, are you okay?” he asks, and you nod, trying to not cry from the stinging feeling.  “Go slow, please,” you whisper, and he kisses you, distracting you from the pain between your legs.  He pulls out slowly and pushes back into you, groaning quietly against the skin on your neck. Your hands are clasping his shoulders and your legs are wrapped around his middle, letting him hit even deeper inside you with his shallow thrusts. 

“You feel so good, baby. This pussy is made for me,” Rafe muses, kissing your neck and sucking on the soft skin, leaving marks for days. Your mind is dazed. The pain you had felt just minutes before is replaced with pure pleasure and the way he longingly stares into your eyes.  You didn't expect him to be so gentle with you, but now that you have it, you want nothing more than to do it over and over again.  “Fuck, you're so tight,” Rafe grunts, gradually fasting his pace. He pulls out almost completely, leaving you empty and babbling for more until he slams back in, holding onto the headboard of your bed so it doesn't hit against the wall.  “You're mine. My girl,” Rafe grunts and rams into you another time.  “Yours,” you moan softly, still trying to keep quiet and not wake your brother next door. But Rafe seems to have forgotten about it.  His right hand comes down to hold onto your neck, and he starts pounding into you harsher and faster than you thought possible. Maybe he really wants to try to impale you with his cock, and you know you'd let him. It's overwhelming, and you feel the band inside you go tighter with each heavy thrust.  “Let go, baby, I got you,” Rafe looks down at you and smiles, you can feel it inside of you, the warmth, and then you're lost. It feels like you're falling and when he pushes into you deeper and halts, you're caught again. 

Your poor cunt won't stop clenching even after he had pulled out and disposed of the condom. You're hot and cold at the same time, like a storm had just washed over you and left you speechless.  “Next time we do this, you can be as loud as you want to, baby,” Rafe whispers and kisses your neck, holding you tightly in his arms before you both drift into a deep slumber. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[glorious-spoon]

like an empty bottle takes the rain [9-1-1 | Buck & Eddie | Buck/Tommy]

~1k words | friendship | pre-relationship | sexuality realization

-

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

He senses, rather than sees, Buck's shift to his left, the way his head comes up, his attention sharpening. He doesn't look over, though. He keeps his eyes on the stretch of backyard in his field of vision. The demolition portion of the job is pretty much finished, the old rotting lumber from Eddie's sagging back deck stacked up to be hauled away, the floor joists still open to the raw earth underneath. They're both kicked back on the half-finished edge, beers in hand, feet dangling. The high midsummer sun beats down, and Eddie's shirt is sticking to him with sweat.

"Yeah, of course, anything," Buck says.

Eddie nods. He rolls his sweating beer bottle between his palms and doesn't speak for a moment. It's not because he doesn't know what he wants to say; it's not because he hasn't thought it through. If anything he's thought it through too much. Enough to know exactly how exposing the question alone is—to anyone, let alone Buck, who knows him better than anyone else in the world. If he says it out loud, there's no taking it back. There's no returning to a world where this is just a question that lives inside his head. It'll be something that other people know about him. That Buck knows about him.

He wonders if this was what it felt like for Buck, months ago, when he stumbled through a quiet confession in his loft and watched Eddie with frightened eyes for the three seconds it took him to jumpstart his brain and pull Buck into a tight hug. There's always going to be a world after he says it. And knowing how gently Buck would hold that knowledge still doesn't quite make the fear go.

"Eddie?" Buck asks, quieter. 

"Yeah," Eddie says. He takes a sip of his beer, and his voice is hoarse, and he knows he's lost any chance he had of trying to make this sound casual. He could just drop it—Buck would let him—but he doesn't want to do that. "I was wondering. You and Tommy—how did you know?"

There's a soft intake of breath. "That I was into guys? Or that I was into him?"

"Either." Eddie shrugs tightly. "Both."

"Um," Buck says. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie watches him duck his head, rub a sheepish hand over the back of his neck. "Well. I kinda only actually figured it out when he kissed me."

Eddie lets out a startled burst of laughter. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Buck says. The amused chagrin in his voice is enough that Eddie can bring himself to look over at him. He's blushing, scruffy and a little sunburnt in a ratty LAFD t-shirt that says KINARD across the back. Eddie has been trying really hard not to feel some kind of way about that since Buck turned up this morning, and only half succeeding.

"Sorry," Eddie says, and takes another gulp of his beer. "I'm not trying to, like…"

"No, it is, it's…I mean, in retrospect, it feels really obvious. You know? Like, when he came over after the basketball game—"

"After you broke my ankle," Eddie interjects, like he does every time the subject comes up.

"After I sprained your ankle, accidentally, which I still feel really bad about."

"As you should," Eddie says, grinning, feeling a little more like he's back on solid ground when Buck scoffs. "Okay. Go ahead."

"Anyway," Buck says. "We were just, you know, talking in the kitchen and, and—flirting, I guess, or at least I was kinda flirting, but I didn't really think about it like that. It didn't feel that different from—I don't know. I just thought he was nice and cool and I wanted him to pay attention to me, and he was, and it was like…" he trails off, shakes his head, laughing. "And then he kissed me, and it was like—oh, okay, that's what all that was. That was the missing piece, you know?"

"It just clicked," Eddie offers, hoarse.

"Yeah. Exactly. It clicked, and everything suddenly made sense."

"Oh," Eddie says, and then he takes a drink of his beer, gazing out across the backyard. The bird houses that Chris and Buck set up years ago, the paint starting to fade now, the patio chairs stacked against the back fence along with the fresh lumber for the deck. He's not really seeing it, though. He's remembering a night in Buck's kitchen, years ago: a beer in his hand, watching Buck move toward him with that cocky tilt to his smile, an unnameable tension thrumming between them. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time he remembers it feeling like that: sharp and electric, like he was on the verge of doing something reckless.

What would have changed, he's wondering now, if either of them had thought to cross that line? If he'd grabbed the front of Buck's shirt and pulled him into a kiss, would Buck have kissed him back? 

The question is moot in any case. At the time, Eddie didn't know that was even an option, for either of them. And Buck's with Tommy. He keeps saying it's not that serious, but it's been two months, and he's still walking around with that expression of gobsmacked joy half the time. They've been sleeping together for a while now, which Eddie knows because Buck is incapable of discretion, especially when he's happy.

It was good, he told Eddie, afterward. It was like—it was new, and I felt like such an idiot about everything, because it's been so long since I had no idea what I was doing, but it was so good, and Eddie, who has heard way more about Buck's sex life over the years than any sensible friend would tolerate, had never heard him sound like that about it: thrilled and breathless, almost shy.

Eddie's not going to fuck with that, especially when he barely even knows what he's feeling here. Jealous, sure, a little bit. But he doesn't know how much of that is wanting Buck, and how much of it is wanting that. The breathless thrill of self-discovery he could hear in Buck's voice, every time.

"Can I ask you something?" Buck says. It's quiet, and when Eddie turns toward him there's something careful in his face.

"Fair's fair."

"You're not just asking out of curiosity, are you?"

Eddie breathes out shakily, presses his lips together, and finally shakes his head. "No. Not just curiosity."

"Okay." Buck lets out a breath and nods, rubbing a hand against his jaw. "Listen, Eddie…"

"I'm not ready to talk about it," Eddie says hastily. "Not yet."

"Okay," Buck says again, gentler. He leans in just enough to bump his shoulder against Eddie's. "If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm here."

Eddie leans back against him, the solid warmth of his body a familiar comfort. There's a tightness in his throat, but it's not a bad thing, not entirely. "Yeah. I know you are."

[catholicdaredevil]

disarming || tormund giantsbane x gn! reader

hello all! i haven't posted anything i've written in a while (over a year) but when prompted by my daughter grack i searched back through my google docs and found this fic that i don't think i ever posted so here we go! (also this hasn't been edited lol)

summary: gn! reader kills a thenn and tormund is bricked over it

words: 2k

warnings: violence!!!!!! use of knives, punching, kicking, stabbing, and killing!!!! to be fair it's all canon typical violence for game of thrones but still there's your warning! also short references to nsfw but no detailed action

ao3 link

Warm callused hands framed your face and he leaned in to kiss you. 

Except Tormund didn’t kiss you, kiss was too gentle a word for it, he consumed you. Every time he pressed his mouth to yours it was like he was trying to drink you down, overwhelming sensations of nothing but him causing your brain to go haywire. He didn’t give pecks, no small chaste kisses, that was your thing. When you’d walk past him and pause just to creep up on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek then carry on with whatever you were previously doing. Sometimes he let you, he knew you liked those gentle kisses, wanted to give you whatever you wanted when he could. 

However most times he’d slip his hands into your hair, or around your waist and pull you into him with strength you couldn’t get out of if you tried, tip your head back and deepen the kiss. And if when you finally pulled away you looked dizzy, hair a mess and breathing ragged, then that was just a bonus. 

“I swear on–on– on all of the southern gods, every single one of them, that if you ever come near me again I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” your finger jabbed into the Thenn’s chest, loud voice carrying throughout the camp. You can hear the mutters of people gathering around, the syncopated overlapped voices of the other free folk watching, waiting. 

“If you didn’t have Tormund to back you up I bet you’d be so much quieter. Maybe you need someone to teach you to be quiet, little one.” He leaned in, voice low and predatory with a grin stretching out the scars that covered his face. Those white lines marking a Thenn that always made a chill run down your spine. 

“I need no one to back me up, I don't want Tormund’s help and he couldn’t stop me if he wanted to. You think I would be Tormund’s if I couldn’t handle my own?” 

As if he could sense his name spoken from across the way, you hear Tormund walk up, his loud voice familiar enough to pick out of the crowd circled around you and the Thenn. 

“What’s going on?” Tormund’s words end in a growl as he finally breaks through the masses to see you. 

Your mouth twisted down into an angry frown and the hand not currently inches from the other man’s chest is clenched into a fist and trembling just slightly at your side. He takes the final few steps to get to your side, a glare pinning the man in front of you in place. He had joked before but only a fool didn’t hesitate going up against Tormund Giantsbane. There was a reason he was Tall-Talker, Horn-Blower and Breaker of Ice. Tormund was less a man and more a force, a storm that roved over lands destroying anything stupid enough to get in his way. 

Tormund’s hand rests on your shoulder, his body tense in anticipation, always seconds away from swinging a blade at anyone who so much as dares to glare at you and this is no different. You speak one last time before turning to walk off, “I won’t warn you again.” 

“And how do you plan to kill me little one? By whinging? Yelling? You couldn’t kill me if Tormund trained you for years.” 

His cocky words are enough to break your last shred of patience left and you spin before Tormund can react, stomping across the frozen dirt, fist clenched and ready to throw a punch. Luckily Tormund recovers fast enough to grab your elbow mid-swing and you round on him, ready to yell that you’d had enough of that shit eating grin and he could try to eat his next kill with less teeth. 

“You’ll break your sweet little hand on that ugly fucker, here.” Tormund lifts your hand to kiss across your knuckles and pushes a knife into it and nods approvingly, twisting you around to face the Thenn again. You get to watch the smirk melt off the man’s face. This is no longer a game, not even an argument. He has two options now; let you kill him or fight you and have Tormund kill him. There’s no scenario where he lays a hand on you and lives to talk about it. 

“I’ll make you a deal. You disarm me fair and square and you win, Tormund’ll let you live. If not, I carve that smirk from your face.” Your head tilts expectantly and the Thenn’s eyes shift from you to Tormund, watching the small nod Tormund gives in agreement before looking back to you. 

He grins. “Deal.”

He moves faster than you expected, quick for such a large man, but it doesn’t matter. He swings his hand out to hit you and you duck, adrenaline surging through you as your instincts take over. He’s a fool and a cocky one at that and you’re going to show him. You drop your breathing to slow and controlled, crouching slightly to study him, eyes scanning over his tall form to pick out the best places to strike. 

His leg shoots out and slams into your side. Pain blossoms across your stomach and you bite your cheek to muffle your cry, wrapping your arm around his ankle to keep him on one foot. He’s stronger than you and you know you won’t be able to hold him there for long, but you don’t need long. Your blade sinks into his leg right above his knee, twisting before you yank it back out and he tugs his leg from you with a scream. He expects you to attempt to hold onto it, so when you drop it the force of his pull twists him off balance and he has to stumble to catch himself, grunting through the shooting pain the steps cause. 

“You’re a fool. You’re a fool and I warned you.” You spit blood at his feet. He looks up to meet your eyes again and there’s a split second where you’re concerned about the rage so clearly shown on his every feature. Taking a deep breath, you force your body to relax, shaking out the tension in your joints and twisting your head until your neck cracks loudly. 

The sounds of the crowd have risen, voices overlapping and in the back of your mind you register a familiar voice shushing them all. The man in front of you is too focused on kicks, anything to keep you as far from him as possible thinking his strength lies in his reach spanning farther than your own. He swings a hand and his fist connects with your temple, your entire head rings, vision going blurry and black around the edges and you gasp. 

It takes you a moment to catch your bearings, a few stumbled steps and ragged intakes of breath, and that’s all it takes. The bottom of his foot lands solidly on your chest and he pushes with a force that likely cracked several ribs, knocking you to the ground. His own chest heaves with exertion, walking forward to stand over you and you can see the way he struggles with restraint, unused to leaving an enemy alive after a fight. 

He opens his mouth to speak and hesitates at the last second. Blood trails down your chin, shadowing a grin that gives him pause in his victory, but not long enough to stop the words from falling out of his mouth. “Fair and square.” 

“I said disarm me,” 

He puts the pieces together too late. 

The knife still clutched tightly in your hand that wrapped around where he stood slices through the back of his ankles on both feet and he drops with a scream. Crumpling to the ground, the Thenn grabs at his bleeding feet, attempting to staunch the blood that flows around his fingers and pours onto the ground below him. You’ve risen to your feet in his panic, swaying slightly as your head gets caught up in the dizzy waves of a concussion. Luckily your adrenaline still pumping through your veins is enough to keep you standing long enough for him to look up at you and lock eyes one last time. 

Your knife finds its home in the small space between the side of his collarbone and neck, right where it’s still soft and relatively easy to drive it as far in as it will go. You push until the heel of the knife clinks into bone and he finally collapses below you, ripping the hilt from your hand in his fall. He lets out one final choked off gurgle, eyes rolling back and lids closing and he’s dead. His and your blood stains your hands and clothes, a messy watercolor of death.

Now that the fight is over your body threatens to collapse, hands on your locked-up knees to keep from hitting the ground. Eyes slammed shut in an attempt to limit the way the world spins on his axis like a top and warm large arms wrap around your middle to vault you into the air. 

The earth shakes below you, but maybe that’s just Tormund in his raucous laughter and shouted words. “I told you all! Mine doesn’t need anyone for anything! Only needs me around to fuck them ‘til they cry!” 

Heat blooms in your face at his exclamation to the surrounding crowd, your hand smacking into his shoulder feebly. You doubt that even with all your strength you could do much to the man beyond a bee sting, but he grunts in fake pain at your strike just to indulge you. “I don’t think I need you for even that, I did a pretty good job at doing it myself before you came along.”

“But I do it better.” 

His almost crystal blue eyes meet yours and he’s wearing that shit-eating, Tormund Giantsbane, wolfish grin. The one that probably earned him the name Tall Talker if you had to guess. The look is more familiar than even your family and you can’t help but mirror it back at him in your own way, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“Aye, you uncivilized great behemoth of a man. You do it better.” 

Tormund connects his lips with yours, quickly licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, drinking you down. He gets the satisfaction of the taste of you and the bitter clash of your blood that only spurs him on until his hands are fisted in your shirt and you’re whining into his mouth, almost grinding onto him from your place in his arms. 

His hold on you only tightens until he pushes on your cracked ribs and you jerk away from his touch with a broken gasp. You drop your head to his shoulder, breathing slowly through the sharp pain until it passes, slipping back into the gentle throb it sits at as a baseline. Tormund presses a kiss to your forehead, one hand softly running up the line of your spine in comfort, already walking towards your shared home. 

“Let’s get those clothes off and I can see just how hurt you are.” He says, pushing aside the door and kicking it shut behind the two of you. He sets you down on the bed delicately, not wanting to cause you anymore pain and you smile up at him standing above you. 

“I’m fine really. Well– I might have a concussion.” 

“I’ll get you taken care of my pretty little crow. Then I’ll make you cum on my tongue so many times you cry. Seeing you kill a Thenn has me harder than I think I’ve ever been in my life.” Tormund speaks the words like they’re normal, a casual conversation and mention of murder being sexy. Of course you’re sure a big part of the whole sexy-murder thing has to do with his hatred for Thenn’s and the specificity of your victim. Not that you’ll complain, or turn down the offer. 

[veritable-trash]

maybe it's never truly over

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader(nickname used but no descriptors!)

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen each other. For you it hasn't been long enough but for Miguel things are a bit more complicated.

Word Count: 1K

Rating: E - for eventual smut, friends to enemies to friends to lovers i think??? this chapter is tame just seeing if people are interested in what i might decide to cook up <3 :)

A/N: alright alright alright like literally everyone i watched spiderverse and have now descended into the black hole of being obsessed with every character from that movie but this one right here????? yes yes i like him very much. anyways wrote this for fun think i might try another series and see what comes of it. this is not sticking to any canon(lol miguel would be PISSED but this is my multiverse bitch!) because there's such a depth to his character that i want to just play with in this story potentially.

anyways if you like this little intro and want to read more and see where these two little weirdos spin their way off to reblog, send me thirsty thoughts about this man, comment to your heart's content about how his body is shaped like a dorito and i want to eat HIM!

also @dameronscopilot wrote an absolute SPICED piece for Miguel so go read that now if anyone sees this!!!!!

enjoy :)))))))))

masterlist weeeeeeeee

~~~~~

There was something different about today. 

Air shimmering like it was about to crystallize and crack at any given moment. 

Like the world was gonna stop all of a sudden and dissolve into some weird cosmic puddle. 

But not for you. Never for you because even when things felt like they were about to snap, crackle, pop, your life tended to stay a bit boring. It had been a long, long time since you’d felt any kind of twinkle in your life, and you didn’t mind it. The last time things had fizzled like that you’d been left a bit shattered yourself. 

Even still, the niggle at the nape of your neck wouldn’t let up. even the sidewalk seemed to wobble under your feet as you traversed the packed streets of Nueva York. Your palms can’t help but start sweating, heart kicking up its pace as the people around you seem to crowd and crowd and crowd. 

Alley. You need to find an alley and fucking breath. 

You turn in fast on the tight corridor, the smell of garbage helping to clear the dizziness in your head but it still isn’t gone. The feelings still there. Why won’t it just fucking leave you-

“Lyla I got it. Just check the other dimensions and report back to me I haven’t seen any signs of them here.”

And now you know why this an entire day has been like walking through jelly.

Because the second Miguel O’Hara turns around and sees you, everything absolutely shatters.

It’s been years, maybe over a decade since he’s seen you, but you’ve seen plenty of him. The magazines, the news, online, every god damn street corner of this godforsaken city conveniently reminds you of this Dorito-shaped dip shit man. 

Nothing changes in his demeanor, to an unseasoned eye, but you remember Miguel from before. Gabe’s older brother Miguel, mama’s boy Miguel, your best friend Miguel, and his eyes can’t hide the things you know deep in his heart. 

You don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left in your brain, just him, still staring, but now from new heights, with new scars, and it scares the shit out of you.

And pisses you the fuck off.

“So what? You go radio silent for over ten years and now you’re gonna stalk me in some alley like creep? Very on brand Miguel but I thought you would have fucking grown up by now.”

His shoulders tense and you can’t stop the way your lips curve as you sense you’ve gotten to him, even if only a little. But then he’s turning away, slowly walking down the alley towards the brick wall and you realize he’s not going to say anything to you. That he’s going to just leave again without a single fucking word.

“Miguel if you don’t turn the fuck around right now and say something to me I will beat the shit out of you I swear to god. I know your weak spots don’t make me fucking use it!”

(it’s just under his ribs, but only on the right side)

“Bichito, pleas-“

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Don’t you fucking dare. You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared on me. Fuck you Miguel, honestly I don’t even have anything left to say to you just fuck off.”

This time his face face does crumple just a little bit and you preen at his pain. Suck it into your lungs as the boy who trampled your heart finally gets a taste of how you bled. 

You turn back to the chaos of the street and throw yourself into the people, away from Miguel and all the bullshit, earth shattering happening behind you. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed Miguel O’Hara and it’ll be an even longer time before you come back around to his antics.

Probably never.

~~~~~

He fucked up. 

Miguel didn’t know how he’d dropped the ball this hard, but he’d fucked up big time and for once it didn’t involve some stupid fucking multiverse drama. 

It involved you. 

You, the girl from down the block who used to wrestle Gabriel and make flower crowns out of the flowers growing between the cracks in the concrete. 

You, the girl who stayed up till the sky started to turn pink again listening to him rant on and on about his shitty dad and his shitty life.

You, his Bichito, his little bug, his best friend, the center of what he thought was his tiny little universe so many years ago. 

But he’d left that behind. Thought that he could find something else, find something better, finally be happy in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

And look at where it had gotten him. 

He wasn’t ever supposed to run into you again. He was supposed to be vigilant, cautious, knew that running into you would derail him a thousand times over and he had bigger things to be focusing on. Multiverse-altering, dimension-destroying things to focus on.

Yet the universe had dropped you both in that alley and something deep in his chest rippled with feelings he couldn’t seem to find a word for. It was fucking terrifying and he wasn’t going to let it fester. 

He had things to do. Universes to fix. An ever growing mantle of responsibility hanging of his shoulders.

A constant reminder of his fuck ups and the reality that he wasn’t going to let himself slip up again. 

And yet as his claws carry him up and onto the rooftops of Nueva York, Miguel O’Hara has a terrifying suspicion that he may no longer be able to stay away. 

~~~~~

hehehehAHAHHAHA god i love this twisted little sad sack man who just wants to be all rough and tough. anyways haven't written in ages and this character has gotten me at least sorta interested in writing so i just wanted to throw this out there, get something moving, even if i go back into dormancy for another millenia.

well heart eyes for you guys and forehead kisses for anyone who reads i hope your day is a dream <33333333333

[buckyalpine]

I have a request!!!!

Can you do a Bucky barnes x female reader angst based on Call out my name by weekend.....

Like Bucky and reader used to date and reader have been with Bucky in ugly times but he leaves her for someone else...

But reader having a happy ending and Bucky regretting........

By your big fan 🌝

18+ minors dni

Ex bucky x reader, destroyer chris x reader

That song is sexy as hell. I know this isn't straight up cheating but this smells of Bucket to me. sigh. Okay. Here we go.

You really have been with him through everything. The absolute worst of times, holding him, cradling him, loving him through every nightmare, every breakdown, talking him through every insecurity he feels. You are his safe place, the one place he can cry and sob and be himself with no judgement.

You run your fingers through his hair while rocking him close to your body each night, deprived of sleep just like him but you'd never let him suffer alone.

Until.

He claims he needs a fresh start. The more he's with you, the more he remembers the dark sides of his past. You're special, but you remind him of every moment of weakness he's had. You don't remind him of happiness and hope. When he sees you, he sees the place he goes to cry and he doesn't want that anymore.

He just can't see a future with you.

It's over.

You're struggling to keep it together, your heart in pieces while he's flourishing, learning how to love himself now and be more independent. It's hardly been a few weeks until he has a new girl around. He thinks he's found happiness, there's a part of him that feels oddly hollow. There's something missing. He brushes it off because it'll pass and he's dating someone new anyway. She looks very much like you but that's where the similarities end. He learns that very quickly.

She's not sweet like you.

Not patient like you.

Not loving like you.

Not beautiful like you.

She's not you.

Bucky realizes his mistake very quickly, whatever stupid reasons he had for wanting to break up make 0 sense, he understands that now. He tries to have a conversation with you but it's impossible with the team standing in the way each time he comes by your room. Steve hasn't punched Bucky yet but he's very close to hitting him on the head with his shield if he comes to you one more time.

Bucky went looking for you in every girl he came across and it was never the same. You're all he can think of, and it doesn't stop him from calling you for. You can hear his cries at night, your name falling from his lips when he has a nightmare. He's whimpering and crying, he needs you back, he's so scared but he can't do anything about it, he made his choice when he left you.

He calls you for even when he shouldn't.

"Y/n..."

"What the fuck?!"

"I-

Bucky doesn't even bother correcting himself, simply getting off his newest hookup and putting his clothes back on. He doesn't even hear her screaming at him, truthfully he doesn't care, he can just think of you. He wants to call for you, he wants to be wrapped in your warmth, coming undone for you, making you feel good but it never happens.

When he sees you in Chris's arms, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Your new boyfriend won't let Bucky go near you with a 10 foot pole. He treats you like a princess. Just like you deserve. He's protective over you. He's always by your side.

"I love you sugar" He has you on his motorbike, parked outside the compound, his arms around your waist, trailing kisses down your face to your neck. "My pretty girl"

Bucky freezes seeing you both, seething watching the way his hands are stroking your waist, the waist he used to hold onto, the place only he used to be allowed to touch. When you see Bucky, your heart races. Anxiety takes over. You love your boyfriend but you can't help the new fear that has clouded your brain, a part of you is always scared he might leave just like...

"Baby, look at me" He breaks you out of your trance, his thumbs wiping away the tears you didn't even notice spill down your cheeks. "Sweet heart, I'm here" He holds you close to his chest, he knows everything that happened and he's ready to be patient with you and show you exactly how you deserved to be loved. "It's okay baby, m'not going anywhere"

Bucky hates himself even more because not only did he hurt you but you now also feared people would leave you without warning, just like him. He wants you back, every single day but it never happens.

***

Nothing gets easier, even though a part of him is happy to see you doing better. Much better. You're smiling, laughing, surrounded by the team while you look open presents, giggling at the cute little onsies and baby toys the team has brought for the baby shower. Tony got your little one a tiny custom leather jacket to match his dad. There's a set of tiny silver rings. There are way more toy motorcycles than toy cars.

You're in your own world now, with your husband, a little baby on the way.

The pain he's feeling couldn't be worse.

[notyour-valentine]

Strawberry Red ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: After two years, Tommy reunites with Grace, but the same things that once intrigued him, do the opposite now

Note: You have chosen- I hope you enjoy. This is technically a follow up to Blackberry Stains but it can stand alone.

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: mention of PTSD, cheating

Request: no

Wordcount: 1992 words

He couldn’t help staring, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Back then, two years ago, he had been enthralled by her. 

She had been a novelty at first, and like all curiosities, had drawn attention. 

And his gaze had lingered. 

She had been bold. She had been brave and straight-forward, even foolishly so and that had intrigued him. 

How unlike (Y/N) she had been!

From the way she spoke, not just the foreign accent but the confidence that dripped from every word, every sentence laced with certainty. 

Even her walk was different, not hasty, with her head held high the way very few women in Small Heath did, having been taught all their lives to evade attention and the risks that would contain. 

Not that anyone with half an ounce of brains would ever dare to look at (Y/N) the wrong way, but there had been a time before Tommy had made his name and before hers was intertwined with his. 

And all these barefooted, hungry years left a mark on the body and soul. 

The way she did her hair was different. The men didn’t mind of course, but she was wearing it open the way no respectable working woman would have thought to do. It would only get in the way of the meals that needed cooking and the chores that needed doing. 

Meals for his siblings, for his nephews. Meals for him. 

Even the way she would dress was different, so many bright, pale colours that made her blue eyes shine. 

(Y/N) had one white blouse- the good blouse, work only for special occasions and never for longer than an hour or two because she never would have thought to wear it during the preparing or the cleaning up. 

Otherwise she’d stick to darker colours that wouldn’t show the stains and would be more forgiving to alterations and mending. 

All these differences had added a shine to Grace. 

And back then, he had drowned himself in them. 

And yet every single detail that had captured his eye and caught his attention merely two years ago, haunting his dreams ever since, now only seemed wrong to him - like flaws in the design that he had been blind to back then. 

It wasn’t her fault. 

Nor was it anyone else’s. 

But the longer Tommy watched her, listened to her, looked at her - really looked at her, the more something under his skin began to itch. 

As the evening went on, everything fell in place just as he had planned it.

She was intrigued by his idea and liked the taste of the expensive champagne they served at the Goring.

But when she smiled, he felt no sense of achievement or accomplishment - instead his eyes lingered on those lips, painted red, making it even more obvious that their smile was wide and honest, but not a bit lopsided. It didn’t make little wrinkles appear in the corners of her eyes that would promise to be permanent marks of joys passed in years to come. 

He felt the way her hand tightened on his arm in excitement as they approached the surprise for the evening - his arm, not his hand. 

She had always taken his hand, ever since he had grabbed hers for the very first time when he had been barely seven, and the shopkeeper was after them for picking up the apple that had fallen off of the cart. His screaming had startled her frozen, and so Tommy had to pull her away. 

She had reached for his hand ever since, in good times and in bad. 

Tommy felt his own muscles twitch on their own accord, turning his palm to the woman at his side, expecting her to lace her fingers with his, only her hand never left the bend of his arm. 

Why should they?

But in their absence, his hand closed into a fist to fill the void. 

Her eyes widened in awe when he introduced her to Charlie Chaplin, but they had the wrong shade and so he perceived the delight in them as if it was dulled by the presence of a veil which he couldn’t lift. 

Because there was nothing to lift, nothing he could pull away, no switch to press that would reveal her. 

She was gone, but he had left her first. 

Back at Ada’s home, a house he had bought as the prize of his ambition, he watched the flickering light of the fire and the reflections it threw on the marble mantlepiece, on the crystal chandelier. 

It turned his whisky to glowing amber and made her pale hair appear golden. 

Grace was stunning, with her soft, laid, light hair, with her pale eyes that looked at him in adoration and painted lips. 

Arguably, she was far prettier than (Y/N), with these looks of hers that could turn heads and would capture attention. They had done so tonight the same way they had done at the Garrison. 

But she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. 

In the smoothness of her skin he missed the tiny scar on her temple from where she had hit her head chasing after baby Anna, back when she had been just a little girl herself.  

Her eyes were clear and beautiful, like a cut jewel in the shop window that was worth more than half a street of houses back home, but they also seemed strangely cold, without a trace of the warmth he could always find in hers. 

Her lips were full and shapely, but she never bit the inside of them in a failing attempt to stop a smile from falling.

Grace had painted them with some expensive lipstick that while keeping the colour on her lips, had left little trace on the gold rim of the champagne flute. 

But all Tommy could think of was how the strawberries had turned her lips a shining red that one spring day. He had fed them to her and couldn’t resist the temptation to mash them against her lips until their juice was spread far beyond her mouth, not even sparing the tip of her nose. 

Their kisses had been sticky and tasted of more sweetness than could ever come just from the fruits alone. 

When he was on his second whisky, the third of the night, Tommy was no longer able to block out the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue. 

Why?

And that meant having to face the answer, which was as pathetic as it was obvious.  

Because she was different. 

That was all it was - the same way crowds were drawn to curiosities, and children cooed around new born kittens. 

That had pulled him in and he had stayed because they had been different too, but in a darker way. 

Four years of hardship and two brothers to bury had left their mark on her soul, just like the bruises on her knees from praying for them. The rationing had taken its toll on her health, just like with Ada and Polly. With little meat to go around, they gave it all to the children, causing their iron levels to plummet and their heads to spin with dizziness more than they ever had before.

He saw her lingering looks on the pictures and the way she always sighed after ending her prayers - her prayers for the fallen. 

Yes, she had been different and her change had frightened him, but it was nothing compared to how he had been altered. 

Despite it all, she was still the same girl he had left behind, the one he had let turn his head, but the boy she had fallen for in turn, the one she had been in love with, no longer existed.

And the man that had come back was nothing but a poor replacement, unworthy of the love and care she sought to place upon him.

Geeing how he could not hide these changes in him from her shattered him even more than any difference in her behaviour ever could. 

She had been as soft and tender as she had always been, offering him all that care and gentleness he had longed for every night in France, but there had been something else in her eyes too. 

There had been concern and that had been too much for him to face. 

And so Tommy had betrayed her. 

It wasn't the night he had spent with Grace, his betrayal had started long before that, he knew now, and he had repeated it again and again. 

No, his betrayal smelled of the dried lavender she had put under their pillows because she had heard in the bathhouse from some other women that it had worked with their husbands, and of the smoke when he had tossed it into the flames. 

Betrayal tasted of all those meals she cooked for him, the old favourites and when they failed new curiosities- something different every day, no matter how much time it took to prepare or how expensive the ingredients were, just to get him to eat. They all tasted of betrayal as they sat there untouched and uncherished. 

It was as bitter as the tea he had let grow cold time and time again, ignoring it the same way he ignored the homemade biscuits she always placed alongside it. 

Betrayal was the sound of the squeaking bed when he turned his back to her each and every night and felt as cold as the absence of her hand in his shoulder for all the times he had shrugged it off. 

That was betrayal and it haunted him every day and every night since.

All the efforts he had discarded, every item or person a witness to his crime, silently accusing him. 

He spared Grace the birth of this feeling that night, and sent her back to her husband who was rich and good and kind to her without so much as a kiss. 

In the end, despite the way their evening had begun, she had looked confused, but he had never felt more certain

She wouldn’t soothe the ache in his chest, for that there were too many difference his mind refused to look past and two much regret in him for his mind to allow him pleasure, even of the basest kind. 

Alone again, he stretched himself out on the hardboard floor in front of the fireplace, sighing deeply. 

Despite his efforts, Tommy never found out where she had gone. She had left without a trace, or at least without any he had cared enough to notice at the time and he hadn't asked questions before it was too late.

Now all the birthday presents and Christmas cards that came for everyone but him were sent with love and care but without a return address. Without even a postage stamp. And yet all the people he paid to watch the streets for her when another of these days approached, saw nothing, least of all her.

So he had no chance of knowing where she was, which city or which country even. 

He did not know which bed she was sleeping in, or who might be right there beside her, hearing the soft whispers if her breath.

The thought made white anger boil up inside him but it was quickly suffocated by the realisation that he had forfeited any claim to her. 

He had discarded her love and affection, her kisses and the softness of her embrace, her tenderness and her efforts.

They were hers to give and he had rejected them. Why should she not give them to someone else?

Grace had moved on too, so why shouldn't she?

Because I can't. 

No, Tommy did not know any of these things, but he knew that she would have two blankets in her bed, no matter how hot it might get. 

He knew that she would have that wooden cross hanging right over her head as she slept, and a picture of her parents on her bedside. 

He knew that he could find a handkerchief in the top drawer. 

He knew that she would have laid out her clothes for the next day to allow her a few minutes more in the morning and that she would have done that just after cleaning the kitchen the night before, no matter how late it got, or how little there was to do. 

He knew it all, that and more and he would know until his dying day. 

Even as the fire faded, Tommy stayed on the floor, slowly letting the memories strangle him, while he told himself the burning in his eyes was from the smoke alone. 

End.

~

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear your thoughts!

Tag lists:

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I hate having to have a job. There is no time or energy left for me to watch my little shows and read my little books. I should have been born rich 😢

***

Oh, now you're doing damage control 🙄

Both you and your brother are ridiculous. You should have sent this idiot brat home the moment she showed up here uninvited, but no, there you were, entertaining her instead and indulging her gross gossip of your LEGITIMATE sister-in-law. I am very much going to enjoy watching this blow up in your faces.

***

I'm so willing to be on her side and watch her end them all, but I am beyond pissed that she is letting herself fall for Madam Qin's cheap ploys.

***

Eat her, please.

Not only is she mean, she is a moron too.

***

Sister Zhang, you are making it SO HARD to root for you 😑

Insulting Minglan in her own home, smh.

Murder them all, Minglan. Poison the food or something.

***

OH MY GOOOOOODDDDDDDD 🤯🤯

WHO LET HER OUT IN SOCIETY?

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU ARE JUST MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE

***

EXACTLY. FUCK OFF ALREADY. PREFERABLY STRAIGHT INTO A LAKE NEVER TO RESURFACE.

YOUR ARROGANT IDIOT ASS SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN HERE TO BEGIN WITH.

***

LMAO, at least Molan is enjoying herself.

Why Minglan hasn't gone scorched earth with her yet I'll never know.

***

I want to be on her side so bad, but anyone going against Minglan can just rot.

***

Oh, I am sure you have made living in your household a hell on Earth.

I've seen this woman in three (?) shows so far and I've hated her in every single one.

Anyway, when do I get to watch these two pieces of shit die? 🤬

***

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

GU TINGYE, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN? MINGLAN SURE IS DOING A PATHETIC JOB OF IT.

***

LMAO, I love them 🤣🤣

They are my favourite people and favourite couple in this drama.

***

That's right, baby, get pissed off.

I honestly blame her for that more than your shitty aunt. Shit aunt was just being shit because that's in her shitty nature, but Minglan should have known better.

***

Yes, but her sister is still not her and is a complete moron to boot.

If you feel guilty and want to repay your dead sister-in-law, you would do better to manage that idiot before she ruins herself and brings all of you down with her.

***

OMG, Minglan, mind your own marriage and your own business!

She is what my mother would call a "lid for every pot", always getting herself involved in other people's problems.

***

Oh, she made the situation unbearable, now did she 🙄

For her sake, I hope Minglan talks some sense into that idiotic head of hers.

***

God. She's beyond stupid.

There is no saving her.

***

Minglan, you are talking in vain.

She had one barely active brain cell and even that was eaten up by her arrogance and vanity.

Let her dig her own grave.

Honestly, the only reason Minglan should try talking sense into any of these stupid people is because these idiots are Gu Tingye's friends and could easily drag him down into the abyss too.

***

God, please pull your head out of your ass and see that Minglan is the only person in this entire shitty city that still has an ounce of sincerity left.

I really want to root for you to murder your shit husband and your shit mistress, but I can't do that if you are going to be working against Minglan.

***

You're so right, Minglan.

The modern-day relative ease of divorce and the option to not marry and still live a good life is the best thing that ever happened to women.

[bluury2]

I've been reading a fic called "a dark among the lights" by @luckylectio and I couldn't help but make a mini fic based off of it!

This scenario has been floating in my brain, and yes I know the logic doesn't fully make sense and probably may never happen but it's a fun thing to think about, this was so fun to write!

"When Dark meets Light"

Sky was fighting for his life after the monster they were fighting was overpowering him by the minute, the monsters sword clashed down and hit the master sword out of his hand, shooting it to the left and into the dirt upright.

Sky, shocked, lost his balance, and the monster took advantage of this. Full force the monster slashed his dominant arm.

No one is able to help him as there are other monsters nearby by occupying the others, Legend is the closest to sky but still too far away to stop the monster as it slowly raised its sword high.

_____________

Sky was one of the only ones (aside from twilight) that didn't attack on sight of him and actually heard him out.

Dark looks terrified, he stands watching this all happen.

He wasn't allowed a weapon incase he decided to use it againt the chain.

He couldn't just stand there doing nothing to stop sky from dying. He sees the master sword perched in the dirt. His feet move on impulse.

He runs for the sword, making the last minute decision to push through the burns to help sky.

He runs, he grabs the sword, bracing himself for the pain.

Nothing happend.

He doesn't notice at first, running behind the monster and stabbing it enough times before it could bring down its sword against sky, killing it.

Straight after it poofs into a cloud of purple and black, He didn't notice the rest of the chain killing off their share of the enimes and looks to sky.

"Are you ok? Shit." He looks at sky's wounds and calls for a potion and bandages. But everyone was just staring at him with wide eyes.

"What? Are you surprised I actually defended one of your asses?" He says as a snarky remark, they still don't say a word. He follows their eyes to his hands,

Dark gasps as he hears the master sword chime and glow a blue light. Sky is the first to break the silence

"You..your holding her.., how...?"

Hyrule jogs over to sky to tend to his wounds as the rest gather round, twilight going straight to dark.

"Are your hands ok?" He says worryingly

Dark switches hands to inspect the hand holding the master sword, nothing. No burns. No cuts. Nothing.

Even Dark couldn't make a snarky remark at this..

Time speaks up "well would you look at that... seems like it thinks your worthy to weild it..."

time narrows his eyes at the sword, thinking about what it did to him, wondering why a ten year old boy wasn't worthy enough to weild it but a being of Dark was...

"Usually she's a lot more picky..." he says with a grimace.

Dark does take notice of how time uses "it" for the sword, a habit he was on the receiving end of not long ago.

Sky piped up "Dark...he...you saved my life...thank you"

Dark looked at sky and gave a small genuine one sided smile, his bright red eyes scrunching slightly.

"Don't mention it, I'm just glad your ok" sky smiles at Dark as he helps him up after hyrule patched sky up.

Why hasn't she burned me yet?

Dark can't help but wonder why now? How? He's a Dark being, too many questions, with so little answers.

The master sword was certainly a confusing concept

But he doesn't take the time he was able to hold her for granted. He saved a friend's life. That's why she let him hold her. He wanted to save her master.

[gayshrug]

pit babe ep 8 thoughts

(a peteken obsession was born)

first of all: i cannot believe i have to wait another week for the next episode. how am i meant to focus on anything when The Thing might happen but ALSO the other thing. things are happening. i am stressed and horny.

- i am sooooooo in love with kim. i know i say that every week but holy fuck his strength of character is admirable. i have no idea how the kimkenta thing is going to develop when kenta hasn't even started his redemption arc yet. HOWEVER........ that look™ between them when kim was bloodied, beaten and thrown into the elevator............ yeah.

- ALANJEFF. my angels. so much open communication from them both. i can't believe all it took for jeff to open up was one (1) handsome older guy in a tank top with kind eyes and open ears. that boy needs someone to lean on so badly. he's done so much reflecting. him finding a place of comfort in alan, no expectations or ulterior motives, is so important. (also low key worried alan is gonna turn jeff down at first re: the preview but we move.)

(- unrelated but i'm a nose guy and sailub's nose.......... amazing. can't stop staring at him.)

- GIVE ME MORE OF JUNE. those arm garters. holy fuck. are they a staple in his wardrobe or did they shoot both bar scenes the same day

- way in his villain was to be expected but him straight up implying he's gonna carry out an evil plan to his SPONSOR is insane. like, apparently pete knows way more than he should so he isn't surprised in the slightest but way shouldn't know that 😭 like girl are you so set on your revenge and bitterness that you're willing to throw your team's finances to the wolves as well (the answer is yes) (he's gonna do way worse things) (i'm excited)

- i love jeff and charlie's bond. jeff's doomsday thinking (which.... is warrented, lbr) and charlie's optimism should be clashing but i think they ground each other.

(- Not A Fan of how often charlie expressed that he'd do and risk anything for babe in this episode. yeah it's foreshadowing and He Means It but i love him so much. thinking about what might happen, keeping in mind jeff's visions, makes me so anxious. charlie is my puppy.)

- PETE AND KENTA. listen. he called him ken. those looks. the exasperation from kenta and the calmness from pete. there's history there. FUCK. i wish we didn't already know that pete/way will be a thing because the chemistry in that scene..... holy fuck. idk if they're ever gonna address it but in my mind, they're 100% exes who split due to external circumstances (kenta staying with tony because of his low self-esteem, pete needing to leave because of his conscience and need for independence). there's obviously still lingering feelings. i could eat off that tension for a lifetime.

- also pretty sure that garfield could have chemistry with a tree

- i saw someone wondering why there was so much (undried) blood in kim's hotel room and like. yeah. but, because i like to make excuses for the shows i enjoy, to me it was A Trap. they made it easy for them to figure out where kim had been staying. they left the door unlocked. they staged The Crime Scene to be as dramatic as possible in order for whoever would come to investigate to have Lots To Look At. so they could get them, too, while they were distracted. tony was watching a recording of that hotel footage almost in real time, wasn't he?

- tony seems to be stupid as hell, not gonna lie. are the cogs just now starting to turn?????? girl

- charlie starting to get acquainted with babe's senses is so cool. like, yeah, he can't really utilise them well yet but. baby steps. he is our collective baby after all.

- the amount of charliebabe protecting each other and throwing punches at goons in this episode gave me so much serotonin. dream team with maybe a handful of brain cells between them

- i love jeff but him going back to tony's mansion a) after he just told alan he'd never be dragged back there and b) seemingly without telling anybody about it is sooooo frustrating. babygirl this wouldn't have ended well in any universe

- all i could think when kenta was pressing jeff against that wall and deleting his Exposing Way message was "i wish that was me". the arms 🥴🥴🥴

- i need somebody, ANYBODY, (preferably pete or kim) to give kenta a convincing reason to leave. like, he's obviously conflicted but tony's abuse has its grips on him. tightly. like, i KNOW that man cries himself to sleep every night but maybe the tender touch of another man could heal him

- i had to pause the charliebabe doctor scene sooo many times (and then rewatched it for half an hour). i'm too fucking single for this. their little faces and banter and Visible Love-Eyes. have some mercy on me.

- that being said... we've had public sex. breeding kink. mommy/daddy kink. now medical kink. (scenting is a given.) is anyone doing ao3 tag bingo

- alan noticing that jeff's not there and being worried about him even though it hasn't even been a full day is so 🥺

- i felt so bad for andy like. a fucking GPS bracelet? the guy who's bought him seemed creepy as hell. they named him so i hope we're gonna get to see them free him (and hopefully other kids) too.

- good on way for helping out the boys when they were in a pinch but. i can't help but feel like everything he does has an ulterior motive now, despite (or maybe especially?) because of his talk with babe earlier

- charliebabe looked so fucking good in those maroon shirts 🧍🏼‍♂️

- how i'm tryna be:

might make this my new header somewhere.

- NORTH AND SONIC. my little gremlins. i still feel so bad about underappreciating them at the start of the show. their romantic tension is so good and silly and they were out there risking their lives with less than zero of a plan 😭 sweet boys

- winner is such a loser. he wins at losing. over and over again. it's so much fun.

- listen........ i get that they had to get away from the goons (thank u alan) but.... could they not have grabbed kim at the last second 😭 there was a truck between winner/the gun and kim and the goon, was there not? it's self-preservation above all else but........ my baby got a kick to the fucking face 🧍🏼‍♂️

- jeff with the sneaky escape plan 👁️👄👁️

[preview talk]

- JEFF WITH THE LIES TO GET AWAY FROM TONY 👁️👄👁️

- way being the one (1) enigma basically confirms what he's there to do and. uhhhhhh. if we're also getting The Incident in next week's episode or episode 10 then...... he might actually try. [throws up in my mouth]

- ALANJEFF? jeff being the one initiating contact for once? "alan's boy"?????????????????????

- charlie talking in that deep voice, the Mirror Scene Preview, him throwing his head back. uhhhhhh. i rewinded that more times than i'd like to admit. make that scene 5 minutes long please 💓

- didn't jeff have a vision of tony killing someone with a katana. why was he pulling that while in his office. (hopefully not) while talking to jeff lol

idk how they do it but i'm even more excited/ scared for next week's episode than i was for this one. it's about to get bonkers

[baronessblixen]

O Holy No (2/10)

Today's prompt is: lies about hating Christmas; wc: 1,503

Summary: Mulder is trying to make sense of what happened - and to make Scully understand that not all is as it seems.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder had it all planned out. So much in fact that he could barely focus on the case they were working on. In the end, for once, it all worked out. The specifics of the case left his mind as soon as they left town, his mind preoccupied with the near future. And Scully. Always Scully.

His being unable to focus on work isn't something that happens often. Well, it has lately. And it’s because of Scully. It’s because of what he’s feeling for her and what he knows she’s feeling for him, too. Being able to read minds has really come in handy. What he also read – back when he was able to – is that Diana, too, has feelings for him. Feelings that surpass the friendship he thought they’d established. Blinded by his own emotions for Scully, he didn’t pay Diana any mind. And all this time, while he wasn’t watching, she was planning and plotting. And now here she is, trying to climb him like a tree.

“I need to call Scully,” he says. He fishes out his phone and Diana takes it from him, hiding it behind her back. “Diana, please. Why are you doing this?”

“What are you talking about?” For the first time since he’s got home and found her like this, dressed up as the sluttiest Santa he’s ever seen, her smile is wobbly. “You wanted me here.”

“What?” He looks her up and down, wondering where and when she got this idea. He hasn’t seen her in at least a week, not even thinking about her. Scully has been and continues to be his priority. The only person he wants to spend his time with after work. Or at work. He’s drunk on her company. And now she’s god knows where, thinking god knows what, because he froze. Something in his brain zapped when he saw Diana standing there. He knows why even if he doesn't want to think about it. A moment much like this, many years ago. A memory he hasn't revisited in ages and doesn't care to revisit now.

“You said you wanted to spend more time with me. You- You want this, Fox. Remember the first time I wore this for you?” And there it is. The memory returns to him as unbidden as Diana’s presence here in his apartment. No wonder the dress is tight on her body. She wore the same one ten years ago on the last Christmas they spent together. He shakes his head softly, not wanting to remember. They were drunk that night, had sex, and then, in the morning, she was gone.

“I remember,” he admits. “But Diana… that was the past. I don’t- when did I say I wanted to spend more time with you?” His words are harsh and he sees the impact they have on her face. But his compassion is used up. He’s been looking forward to this night with Scully for days if not weeks. After everything they went through last year, partly because of Diana, Scully trusted him through it all. How is he going to make her see now that he didn’t invite Diana and that he doesn’t want her here at all?

“The last time you saw me.”

“Diana,” he says, exasperated. He closes his eyes, running a hand over his forehead. It’s warm. He’s not sick or feverish, he’s just mad. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never said anything of the sort.”

“You did. You walked past me and said we’d meet up soon and that you couldn’t wait.”

“I-” He remembers the moment. He was on his way to the basement and to Scully. His mind a few steps ahead. Diana stood by the elevator, happy to see him. She engaged him in a conversation he only half listened to and he must have said it then, not meaning a single word.

“I didn’t mean like this, Diana. I meant get a coffee. Not you- whatever this is.”

“Scully isn’t here, you can be honest.”

“I’m nothing but honest, Diana. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I wanted to spend time with Scully. It’s her I wanted here. Want here. You know what? Stay as long as you want. Feed my fish, why don’t you? I’m going to see if I can salvage my relationship with Scully.”

“But Fox.” Diana grabs his arm. “Think about it.”

“I don’t need to think about it.” He removes his hand from his arm, grabs his keys, and leaves Diana behind. Like she did with him ten years ago. He feels no remorse whatsoever. His thoughts are on Scully. On the pain he glimpsed before she ran out of here. Once again, he fucked it up.

*

If Scully doesn’t open her door soon, her neighbors are going to call the police. They know him, but one look or word from Scully, and they’d do it. He’s sure of it.

“Scully, I know you’re home,” he says, leaning his head against her door, right next to the wreath she’s hung up. He's seen it here every year since he's known her. Decorating for Christmas is one of her favorite things to do in December. This time he was allowed to help. The memory pains him now. They laughed so much and had fun. The way it was supposed to be. And he thought he should wait. Thought he should wait until the last possible moment to reveal his feelings and maybe, just maybe, receive a kiss.

“I’m driving to your mother’s if you don’t open the door, Scully.” It’s cheap and he feels bad saying it, but he’s desperate. He hears rustling inside the apartment and finally, she opens the door. On her face he sees everything she’s been through since the scene at his apartment. She’s cried. And he’s to blame for her tears, and he wasn’t there to dry them either. Her stance is cold and she’s standing there, not letting him inside. He can’t blame her.

“Leave my mother out of this, Mulder. I’d like to be alone.”

“I want to explain.”

“Explain what? That you’re dating Diana and forgot to tell me?”

“I’m not dating Diana. Not even close. I had no idea she’d be there. Do you really think I would have invited you in? I was looking forward to spending the night with you.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know anything at the moment. I think- maybe it’s a good thing I’m going to San Diego. Give us some time to, um, think about things. You don’t need to lie to me, Mulder. I can take it.”

“I swear to you I’m not lying. I don’t care about Diana that way. We’re friends. It’s you that I wanted to spend time with. It’s you that I… want to be more than friends with.” The admission doesn’t come as a surprise to her. But she doesn’t say anything and just stares at him. As always, he has the world’s worst timing.

“Can we try this again tomorrow? Exchange gifts? Is that enough time?”

“I need more time, Mulder.”

“What about your Christmas present?”

“Quite frankly, Mulder, I don’t care. Not right now. I’m not in a Christmas mood.”

“But you love Christmas.”

“I don’t,” she says, defiantly crossing her arms. She’s lying, guarding herself. He knows that right now her whole apartment is decorated with hundreds of small Christmas trinkets. She loves Christmas. But once again, he’s tainted it. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He has to come up with a plan and quickly.

“What if I drop off your present tomorrow? You don’t have to see me at all. I just- Scully, I can’t let you go to San Diego like this.” He fears that if he lets her go, she won’t come back.

“I’ll think about it, Mulder. I need to- what I saw tonight, I don’t know what to think. I thought- these last few months, I thought…”

“I promise you that I didn’t invite Diana over. I’ll have nightmares tonight thinking of her in that thing.” He grimaces and there’s the shadow of a smile on Scully’s face. There’s hope.

“I don’t know what to believe, Mulder,” she repeats. “And tomorrow isn’t good for me. I’m going to the office Christmas party.”

“I thought we-” He stops when he sees her face. “I thought you didn’t want to attend.”

“I changed my mind. Now please, Mulder. I’d like to get some sleep. It was a long day.” She hesitates a mere moment before the door clicks shut softly. Mulder stands there, feeling lost. He wasn’t planning on going there but now he has no choice. He, too, will go to the office Christmas party tomorrow and prove to Scully that what she’s seen the last few months hasn’t been her imagination.

He has one night to make her realize he’s in love with her before all is lost.

[givehimthemedicine]

some of the footage the lab is feeding El in NINA is of a MIRRORED Rainbow Room.

continuing off my recent post about why NINA has 4 cameras inside of it watching El. some more realizations:

those six screens around the sides are actually just the same three video feeds doubled. the only unique feed is the center one.

which gives us a total of FOUR feeds in NINA even though there are seven screens.

and one of them is backwards.

in reality, if you're standing at the mirror, the benches-and-drawing-tables side of the RR is on your right - as it appears, correctly, in the red feed and green feed. their footage makes sense coming from the cameras I've circled here (not the events within, I'm just talking about the angles these cameras see)

but the yellow feed has been flipped horizontally:

if we are SEEING the drawing/chess corner of the room in the yellow feed, that means it was filmed by the camera in the other corner - over by the plinko/puzzle table. that is the camera circled in this shot of El playing plinko. except we're seeing the wrong side of the room behind her.

"oh Nat, that's all so normal. I wish this was harder to understand." I GOTCHU

we get another shot where the yellow feed IS oriented correctly! like, in the shot where you see all the NINA screens at once, the yellow is wrong. but in the subsequent shots where El is looking woozy at individual screens, that version of the yellow is correct. that is what this camera should see.

and both are the same footage flipped horizontally.

well. the same footage except one of them is a wider angle where you see a lot more of the plinko board on the right but shh I'm too tired to think about that

anyway maybe this helps explain the moving bodies/blood locations, specifically the cases where I swear the sides of the room keep getting conflated.

the live massacre scene is unreliable because it's poor El's brain's mashup of the doctored / contradictory footage she's being shown. El doesn't know which way the RR really was. she doesn't remember it at all. so all footage is given equal weight, rather than her brain autocorrecting the wrong ones.

the RR is so hard to mentally map because it's a mind-numbingly-almost-symmetrical room, and we're frequently shown it via its mirror reflection, which confuses our perception further. El is canonically just as confused.

(I need to dive deeper on the details of this idea when I get more time. @aemiron-main iirc you're the lead investigator on the changing bodies/blood thing so you'd know better off the top of your head - would you say a room mirroring accounts for many more of the discrepancies? certainly not all)

finally, back to the center feed -

I believe this is correctly oriented (you can see a sliver of the mirror on the extreme left, which tracks with where the plinko game is situated, and Little El(?) is operating it right-handed which is consistent with Big El.)

BUT, don't worry, there's still a weird problem with this footage!

this is a close-up low shot behind El(?) which was not filmed from any of the corner-mounted RR surveillance cameras like the other feeds. it would've had to be filmed from one of those tripod ones.

and they do keep a tripod camera in that area of the RR, but it's visibly not where it would've had to be in order to film this footage which causes El to "remember" One in the plinko scene.

btw, why is this the only footage filmed in portrait mode? if it was landscape, we could have seen One sit next to her. as it is, he wouldn't be visible in it at all. maybe that's why.

so why are they flipping just that one feed?

well, since they showed right and wrong versions of the yellow feed, I suspect they sometimes flip the other feeds too. I just only caught them once. they only seldom give us glimpses of what's going on inside NINA.

is the center feed important because it's unique?

the lab hasn't made sure El is watching that one right-side-up. you can see in the reflection in her eye that she's watching the center screen landscape.

which means the one and only of seven screens El is actually watching right-side-up is this one:

why wasn't NINA designed like this, with all the screens the same way, if you just want the viewer to watch and comprehend all the footage?

because NINA isn't for remembering or comprehending.

having all the screens side by side and right-side-up makes it easy to compare footage and spot discrepancies between them (is that why Brenner is watching multiple screens of the same event?).

the NINA weird screen angles is exactly what stopped me from spotting the mirrored RR problem until right now, and I've been scrutinizing this, and I'm not drugged like El is. with a bunch of screens of boring, redundant-looking footage at random angles, your brain tends to just kinda be like "eh, I don't feel like mentally righting that, I'll take your word for it. seems legit."

what's on the center screen when El banishes One?

they don't want me to know. I wish I did.

every time we see El in NINA, her body breaks the water surface in such a way that prevents us seeing a reflection of the center screen. which apparently tends to display the only unique feed.

is it fair to call this footage-flipping onscreen proof of NINA being not merely a memory-viewing machine but a memory-altering / memory-implantation / machine? so, a brainwashing machine?

which has major implications for the Henry and Victor Creel contradictory memories situation, as long suspected by folks smarter than I.

so the "memories" we experience live with El are actually a meshing of either: A) real events and doctored / fabricated elements B) real events but from 4 different timelines C) por qué no los dos?

not sure whether this "creates" a new timeline in any way besides in El's mind, but even if it were just that, that is valuable enough - to make arguably the strongest superpowered person on the planet remember whatever events you want them to.

but just that doesn't explain the 4 cameras inside NINA, does it?

El using her current mind in past memories

don't forget we have a whole scene of Big El, while immersed in a NINA memory, conversing with current Brenner about the events she's experiencing being a memory and not real.

which means Big El is talking while floating in the tank, or else current Brenner wouldn't know to respond by microphone.

and if she can access her current mind/knowledge and apply that inside of past (real or fake) events.... doesn't that mean she can also use her current powers in past events?

YES. HERE SHE IS DOING IT:

El very very rarely bleeds from both nostrils. two-nostril jobs are very strenuous in relation to her current power level (killing the cat guards and closing the gate are the only other times I remember).

which indicates she's doing something HUGE even in relation to her newly HIGHER THAN EVER power level.

I just find it funny that she also bled from both nostrils in the exact event she was remembering while bleeding from both nostrils.......

also Brenner and Owens see her EEG spiking at that moment, which they've shown us repeatedly throughout the show reflects power use. she's DOING SOMETHING.

so.... Iots I need to chew on.

did the massacre go down wrong and the lab needs to trick El into remembering it differently, and using her current powers inside of the "memory" to somehow actually either change the past, or switch/unswitch timelines, or merge timelines, or something?

is there a timeline where One kicked Little El's ass, or killed her, and the lab needs her to go back and win in that one instead? did little El banish the wrong guy and the lab wants them switched? something like that?

there's something more time machiney going on with NINA even beyond just brainwashing, I swear.

[theearlgreymage]

Uh. So. Hi. I promise I'm not dead out here.

Life has been chaotic and my brain hasn't been interested in doing anything I want it to lately.

But. We're trying here. On the bright side, my classroom is immaculate and ready for the new school year to start this week.

Anyways.

Thank you so much to every single one of you that have continued tagging me 😭 It means the world to still be included in everyone's Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday Posts -

@ic3-que3n @artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @hushed-chorus @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @rimeswithpurple @j-nipper-95 @ivelovedhimthroughworse @foolofabookwyrm-activated @cutestkilla @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart

You are all amazing. And I'm sure there are names I've missed, but I only went back three weeks, haha.

Now, enough babbling from me. Here's what you're all here for - a variety of 6 sentences from some of my projects that are rotting my brain.

Eirly's (a COBB project with @artsyunderstudy & @shrekgogurt)

He’s alive.  Everything I’ve done. Every line I’ve crossed.  It was all worth it.  Now if only he’d put down the bloody sword and help me out of this infernal trap.  “Snow?” I call out to him.

Aster & Narcissus (a COBB project with @ivelovedhimthroughworse)

Still, there’s too much power nestled in his hand. I could sense it when we tumbled down the hill. It was like having a sparking ember crash into my chest. He was so warm in my arms as I grabbed onto him in the fall. And when I offered him my hand, I felt that power even more concentrated. Mixed with a feeling of unbridled urgency. 

Infinity in Your Chest Pocket

Why is this slowly starting to feel like a date?  It’s not. I know it’s not. But I still can’t stop my mind from wandering down a path where it is.  As soon as Vera has left the room, I’m rushing to put my violin away and fish my phone from my jeans pocket. There’s no way I’m going to be able to handle being alone with Snow for an entire afternoon - watching him try on clothes and eating food with him. 

An Untitled Project

"[redacted]," I plead. I beg. I've never been more desperate as I am in this moment. My heart has lodged its way into my throat. If [redacted] doesn't breathe, then neither will I. I'll choke on my own heart right here before I leave him. 

Tags Under the Cut

Hello there my lovely friends. I hope you have all been doing amazing lately!!

@bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @fatalfangirl @gekkoinapeartree @henreyettah @ileadacharmedlife @ionlydrinkhotwater @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @orange-peony @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @whogaveyoupermission @yellobb

[nicksbestie]

hello! I don’t know if your requests are open right now, but I would like to ask for a blurb/imagine where y/n feels left out of her friend group and is in a moment of her life where she’s trying to make sense of her path, and one of the boys helps her deal with all of those emotions. lots of crying from her part since I’m a huge #crybaby and zodiac cancer rising

i'm sorry this is so short!!! i've been struggling lately with burnout and my motivation hasn't really been there. I hope you still enjoy it!

word count : 600

warnings : none

<3

There were many points in your life where you felt out of sorts, like you were sitting on the outside of a glass house, the inside being your life, watching everybody you’ve ever met interact with each other.

It was like disassociation to the tenth degree, uncomfortable in every way. Some of these moments happened when you were leaving high school and entering college, or during other awkward transition phases in your life. It fueled your depression heavily, feeling like an outcast. You hated it every time it happened, and unfortunately, it was happening again.

You had been feeling extremely ostracized from your friend group lately. All of them had begun to prioritize each other over you, and you really didn’t know how to handle the change. You didn’t know what you had done wrong, what you could’ve possibly caused for them to begin to distance themselves, but it was tearing you apart. You were feeling so alone, mind drifting into that dark place once more, wanting to just hole up in bed and cry for hours. So, that was exactly what you did. 

Your boyfriend found you like that, three hours later. He’d been gone all day, working, and when he got home, you had fallen asleep, the mental pain exhausting you. He peeked into your shared room to see you asleep, and because he didn’t look any closer, he slipped into the bathroom to shower off before coming to lay down next to you. However, by the time that he got into bed with you, you were slightly stirring awake, and he could see how bloodshot your eyes were and the dried tear tracks running down your face. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently wiping away some of the smeared mascara you’d put on that morning, before you knew that your day was going to end badly. You were not yet fully awake, but your brain was conscious enough for you to realize that your boyfriend was finally home, and was there with you. This caused you to wake up a bit more, and the exhaustion of the day and the heaviness of your emotions were weighing on you, and the tears began to fall again. 

You’d been teased as a child for being a crybaby, and while you hated to admit it, it was kind of true. You were just naturally sensitive, and you couldn’t help that the little things made you really emotional. It wasn’t your fault, it was just the way you were, and while you didn’t always like it, you couldn’t really do anything about it. But, with Ashton being there to hold you, it was a little bit better. So, you cried, hugging him tightly. He didn’t press you to talk to him, knowing that sometimes you just needed some time to release your emotions before you wanted to speak about them, so he calmly waited, comforting you in any way he could before softly whispering the question. 

“What happened, my love?” 

You’d been having quite a few days like this recently, and it was nearly always the same answer, but he still asked as if he had no idea what the issue was, giving you a fresh slate every day to talk to him about whatever was bothering you, should it be something different. You just shook your head, not feeling up to answering it. You’d talk to him about it later, but right now, all that mattered was that he was there, and that you knew he always would be, and everything else could wait until later.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 6

Series Summary: There are moments in our lives that have a major impact. The interactions, the adventures, and the love, all make up who we are. But when Harry can't remember those moments with YN, they are both left wondering what that means for themselves and their relationship.

Chapter Summary: This is (again) from Harry's point of view. Harry is at a crossroads now and he knows that whatever decision he makes, someone will end up being hurt.

Thank you to @runway-to-my-aid and @behindmygreyeyes for the brainstorm sessions for this chapter!

~~~~~

Chapter Warnings: Some explicit language, ex-girlfriend, mentions of cheating, ANGST

~~~~~

It's been a week since Harry has seen YN, and while he would like to say that time is exactly what he has needed to get clarity on this entanglement of his mind, he can't. If anything, it's only made things more difficult. Besides a doctor's appointment and a midday meetup with Tabitha, he has been sitting in his childhood home and alone with the tormenting confusion he has been so desperate to resolve.

He thought the familiarity he feels with Tabitha would instantly make her the one he chooses, but the guilt he is experiencing over the situation with YN has caused him to wonder why he feels it so deeply. He knows that the memories his mind has hidden away would answer that question, but he doesn't know where to find that lock box in his brain. Hell, he doesn't even know if he has the key.

As selfish as it probably is, he can't help but pity himself for how unfair this is on him. At least YN knows how she feels. At least Tabitha knows what she wants. Everything else, the things that change everyone's lives from here on out, are all on him and he has never felt his life more turbulent than it is right now.

He can't decipher what's holding him back. Does he actually want to be with Tabitha, or is the comfort just too difficult to give up? She is sociable and determined, both good qualities that he admires. She is someone he knows, someone he can understand, someone he would be able to jump back into a relationship with. However, even though she stated she wanted what they once had, there hasn't been an extraordinary amount of effort put into rebuilding anything. She can become distant, he has experienced that before, always attributing it to her busy schedule. However, there is a little frustration in Harry, thinking that she should at least try to work this out if it's what she wants. Then again, he could simply be reading too much into all of it due to the stress he is experiencing.

On the other hand, does he want to be with YN, or is he just feeling guilty for being so hesitant with someone who has been so kind to him? It really is amazing the effort she has put into helping him with everything, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. She's been abundantly supportive. However, he wonders if it's only due to the accident and his injury. What would happen if they start over again and it isn't as good as it is being made out to be, or he can't be who she expects him to be? What if he doesn't like who she knows him to be?

He finishes his morning coffee and decides that a distraction is something he desperately needs. It's possible that it could help clear his mind, since constantly letting his thoughts and feelings run rampant, yet trying to make sense of them all, is hardly the best technique. An idea pops in his head, and it is something that he knows will, at the very least, allow his mind to temporarily focus on anything but his current turmoil.

•••

"Alright everyone, I know you're excited that Mr. Styles is here, but we are still running class as usual." Sarah states to the students. "Jeremy, come on… just sit down. Drummers keep the beat, man, be a leader."

Harry chuckles as he watches his students compose themselves and get back to their lesson. Edison Academy of Arts was at the top of Harry's list in terms of a career. He loves the structure they implement, allowing him to stay with the same students throughout most of their time at the school. This means, much to Harry's immense pleasure, that he knows the kids in his class. The missing memories are not keeping his love of music and his class from him, and considering everything else he has forgotten, the relief he feels about that fact is overwhelming.

"What've you lot been working on?"

He listens as his students perform pieces they've been practicing, and beams with pride. Finally, he feels some uncomplicated joy. Finally, there is something he does remember and knows that he still has. Finally, there's a moment in his life, since the hospital, where he feels balance and stability.

The bell rings to dismiss for lunch and Harry says goodbye to each student as they walk out. Sarah suggests they go to the teachers lounge to eat but Harry timidly asks if they can stay in the room, not wanting to ruin the peace he feels by getting overwhelmed with questions from the other teachers, as well-intended as they would be.

"So, why are you at your mom's?" Sarah asks, taking a bite into her sandwich and staring at him with an expectant expression.

"Bloody hell, y'just gonna dive right into it, hmm?"

She chuckles as she finishes the food in her mouth, wiping off her hands and staring straight into his eyes. "Well, yeah. What else would we talk about?"

"Literally anything else." He responds, sending her a glare before looking down at his own food and sighing. His moment of joy and balance is quickly dissipating. "I dunno what to say."

"Alright." She states, suddenly softening her tone and her expression. "We don't have to talk about it."

"S'just… I feel like I'm fucked either way."

"What do you mean?"

Her brows quickly furrow in confusion, and Harry's body tenses with the realization that Sarah might not know the details of the situation he is in. The situation he has put both himself and YN in. In fact, as far as he knows, none of his mutual friends with YN know what has been happening.

"Umm… shit." He runs the back of his neck, hoping that the motion will bring him some kind of comfort, or help him to disappear and avoid this conversation. "I… have been having a hard time… choosing…"

"Choosing what…?" The stern expression still plastered all over her face.

"Choosing… who I want to be with…" He admits, immediately dropping his gaze out of shame, as his chest tightens.

Sarah doesn't immediately respond, continuing to stare with the confused expression that had appeared a few moments earlier.

"Like… between YN and… who?"

Harry knows and loves Sarah, and Mitch, and trusts them with so much in his life. He has kept all of this from everyone, but Sarah is someone he does feel he can confide in about this.

"And Tabitha."

She suddenly sits up straight in her chair and presents shock throughout her features. They know him well, more than most of his friends do, but this is something that he is concerned could potentially strain the close friendship they've all had. Because, as much as he knows they love him, it has been made very clear that they love YN just as much.

"You can't be serious, Harry." She shakes her head in disbelief. "Why… why is she even an option?"

He sighs and clears his throat, wishing some sort of residual effects from the accident would cause him to pass out, or combust if possible, and take him away from this awkward conversation. But, as close as they are to YN, he feels as if she can understand his need for familiarity.

"I just know her. Y'know?" He shrugs, looking up to see her understanding, but being met with an even sterner look.

"No! I don't know!" She scolds, causing Harry's body to tense completely, and his breath to momentarily leave his lungs. He was not expecting her to be so upset. "It's stupid!"

"Ease up, Sarah. I remember being with her, and loving her. It's hard to give up the relationship I remember being in."

She scoffs, causing a slight frown to form on Harry's face. He understands her closeness to YN, but she knows Tabitha as well, and he's not asking her to choose between them.

"Okay, so what about YN? You said you're having trouble choosing… so, what about her?"

"YN is…" He pauses, really wanting to be thoughtful about his answer. Not just because he is explaining it to someone who is friends with her, but also because he wants to understand it for himself. "Comfortable… in the way that… that we were able to just hang out and it was good. We didn't, like, have to do anything fancy."

That may have been the first time Harry was able to articulate his feelings and reasoning for wanting to stick around YN.

"Yeah." Sarah responds, a subtle smirk appearing on the side of her mouth furthest from Harry. "That's YN."

"That's what I've been told." He replies, wishing that his memory wouldn't have been taken and he remembered, if only for the reason that this entire situation could be so much easier. He takes a big sigh. "Why does this have to be so difficult?"

Her demeanor quickly changes, at a pace that almost shakes Harry in his seat. She leans forward, the most unreadable expression on her face, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"I don't know, Harry. I honestly don't know what's wrong with you!"

"What the hell is that s'pose to mean?"

"I just don't understand why this is even something that's confusing to you."

"Because I only remember loving Tabitha…"

"Right. But you also broke up with her…"

"I know. Well, I don't know, but I've been told." He sighs and spins one of the rings on his finger. Everyone remembers this, everyone remembers the hurt and heartbreak he supposedly went through with Tabitha. Everyone except him. "But it's what I know, or remember. I wish I remembered YN, but I don't. Tabitha feels… safe…"

"Safe? What the fuck? She cheated on you!" Sarah states blankly, causing Harry's entire body to freeze. He knows they had some issues at times, every relationship does, and the week before that Christmas Gala had been a bit rough, but this is not something he ever thought possible. He's not even sure Sarah has her facts straight.

"What?... No… She-"

"Didn't you talk to her about this? YN said you met up with her to clear things up!"

He thinks back to that day in the cafe, sitting across from Tabitha, and hearing her explain what happened between the two of them.

"She said I broke it off."

"Yeah, you did. Because she cheated on you." She replies sternly, not necessarily towards him, but seemingly towards his ex.

"She said… fuck… she said I didn't like her working so much-"

"Kudos to her, that isn't completely untrue. But it was because she was fucking her coworker."

What Harry had been worried about with Tabitha, what he had been trying to push aside and blame on the stress of the situation, was all starting to culminate into one big knot in his stomach. He expected sadness to fill him up, but instead it's a pool of anger. She hurt him, then lied about it, and then tried to convince him that they were good together… that they would be good together again.

He immediately stands up, not even feeling fully in control of his body. He thought he knew Tabitha, he thought he remembered Tabitha, he thought his feelings for her were valid and reciprocated. And now, if anything, he feels like an idiot.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asks timidly, a friendly concern apparent in her voice.

Harry's mind is racing, to the point that he doesn't even have a clear answer. Everything since the accident is replaying in his head, and it fuels his anger even more, leaving him unable to solidify any sort of plan before he grabs his things and pushes the chair in.

"Dunno. But I'm going to see her." He growls, quickly glancing at Sarah to see her nod, and turning to leave. "Thanks Sarah."

"I'm always here for you Harry."

•••

After charming his way past the receptionist, Harry stands in front of Tabitha's office door, doing what he can to regulate the rhythm of his chest due to his rapid breathing. He decides she doesn't even deserve the decency of a knock, so he grabs the handle and swings the door wide open.

"Harry!" Tabitha exclaims, a similar shock to Sarah's instantly plastered all over her face.

"You cheated on me." He states, not asking and giving her a chance to deny it.

"Harry…" She begins to reply, motioning him to close the door and sit in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Harry's body is so tense that he almost doesn't move from his spot, but he isn't one to make a scene in such a public place, so he gives her this one courtesy.

"Tabitha, you told me that I broke up with you. You told me that it was my decision. You told me that I insisted we were different people and that I ended what we had!"

"Yeah." She shrugs, her elbows resting on her desk and her chin propped up by her fists. "It's true…"

"Except you left out the most important part!" He growls, his palms clenching tightly into fists in his lap. Suddenly, for the very first time since the accident, something pops into Harry's mind that he didn't realize was even there to begin with. "It was Devin, wasn't it? It was your boss, Devin!"

She lets out a sigh and his anger rises as he notices a subtle roll of her eyes.

"Yeah. It was."

"I can't fucking believe this." He runs his hand through his hair, shaking it in disbelief. What surprises him about the gesture is that it's not due to her actions, but instead due to how easily he trusted her without question. He just let his desperate desire for normalcy and familiarity blind him from the reality of what their relationship had become. He hid their recent hangouts from his friends, not wanting them to convince him to do otherwise, but he never stopped to think about why he was afraid of them attempting doing so.

"Geez, Harry, what do you want me to say?" She snaps, causing Harry's eyes to send her a heated, piercing glare. She's so casual about this, as if she picked up the wrong kind of cereal from the grocery store.

"How long? I just wanna know how long you were seeing him while we were together."

His knuckles turn white as he grips on to the armrests of the chair. Not that he remembers everything, but he is certain he has never been this angry before, ever. She used him, she took him for granted, and betrayed him. And as he waits for her answer, he feels rage as she bites her lip as she ponders his question and prepares her answer.

"Six months."

"Oh for fucks sake, Tabitha! We were together for just over a year!" He exclaims, once again uncontrollably shooting straight up from the chair. "And for almost half of our relationship you were fucking someone else... Wait…"

A sensation runs through Harry's brain, almost like the tiniest spark has just ignited inside and it almost drops him to the floor. Suddenly, a picture runs through his mind and his heart almost stops beating.

"It was the Christmas Gala…" He almost wants to cry. Not because of the words he is about to say, but because of how he is even capable of saying them. "I found out at the Christmas Gala. That was the night we broke up."

He has finally remembered something.

"Harry… look… yes, I made a mistake, but I still think we can be together again…" She smirks, standing from her own chair and slowly making her way around the desk. She reaches out to grab his arm. "I can end it with him if yo-"

"You're still with him?" He begins to shout, no longer caring about the discretion he wanted to give her earlier. "God you're unbelievable! You're so fucking selfish!"

Suddenly, something else pops into his head. It's not a memory that had once been hidden, but it's of something he had recently experienced. It was of YN. She had never once been selfish since the accident. She took care of him, she never hoarded his time, and she waited as she hoped he would regain his memories and come back to her. As if he didn't already feel like an idiot before, he feels like he didn't even deserve a brain at this point, because he clearly hadn't been using it at all. His chest quickly tightens as he moves out of Tabitha's reach and towards the door. He hurt the one person who, as far as he knows, has never hurt him. Not like this. Definitely not like this.

"Whatever this was going to be, it's not." Harry replies, swinging the door open once again and stepping out, clearing his throat in hopes that he will be loud enough for her coworkers to pick up on. "Try not to sleep your way too high up the corporate ladder, yeah?"

With that, Harry turns around and heads out of the building, feeling another sort of contradictory emotion as he walks a few paces down the street and presses his back against the wall. He is proud of himself for what happened, no longer feeling inferior to the person he was once with, and giving her exactly what she deserves. But there is a hurt there. A hurt, not because of Tabitha, but because of YN. Because he hurt her. Because she deserves way better, and he wants her to know it.

•••

He didn't waste any time heading over to the flat. He doesn't know what he is expecting, except maybe a door slamming in his face, and he doesn't even know what he will say, but he wants YN to at least know that he is sorry for putting her through all of this.

The closer he gets to the building, the more he thinks about how amazing she has been to him, and how comfortable he has actually been with her. He probably won't stop scolding himself for how he let someone from his past, someone who really wasn't good for him, enter back into his life and overshadow everything YN had been giving him.

He likes the comfortable nights they spent having dinner together, watching a show or reading books. Even though they were often on opposite ends of the couch, it always felt easy, and natural. He likes the way she looks at him with a little sparkle in her eye, shying away when he meets her gaze, which he realizes was her way of not forcing herself back into his heart. He likes the way she got excited about the littlest things that meant so much to them, even if he couldn't remember. He definitely regrets snapping at her that night it started raining. He likes how she is so passionate about her work, but never lets it take over her life. He likes how she, from what he's been told, encourages him with his own passions, especially with music. He likes how she gets along with his friends, having made them her own, and bringing a few others into their tight knit group.

He likes YN.

Not for the first time today, he feels like an utter fool. From day one of waking up in the hospital, she has been there for him, and he didn't even give her a full chance. He would say he has been missing out on all those good things, but truthfully, he hasn't. She has been doing them for him the entire time, and he took it all for granted. It wasn't his intention, but it also wasn't right. So no, he wasn't missing out, but he wasn't experiencing it to the fullest. He was too scared to allow himself, which in hindsight seems ridiculous. There's a reason his mum, his sister, and his entire friend group love her so much and tried so hard to get him to see why. Because she was so good. She was so good to him and for him, yet he has been anything but good to her.

He is so deep in his thoughts that he doesn't even realize he is standing in front of the door to the flat. He raises his fist up, no longer having keys to what was once a shared space, but stops and runs his hand through his hair. He doesn't even know what to say, and he doesn't even know if he deserves the chance to anyway.

He takes a big inhale and slowly breathes out, trying to ground himself before he hits his knuckles against the door and waits anxiously for a reply.

He didn't know if he expected YN to be home, but he didn't necessarily expect to see the person that answered his knock.

"Oh god." Adhira states.

"Hey. I know… I mean… I'm sure I'm not anyone's favorite person, but is YN here?" He mutters, suddenly feeling less enthusiastic and confident about this interaction.

"No."

"When will she be back? I just… I have a few things I want to say."

"She's not coming back for another week."

"A week?" Harry replies with a loud, shocked tone. "Where… where did she go?"

"She went to visit with her parents for a bit." Adhira sighs, her gaze flickering all over his figure as he begins to fiddle with his rings, then rub the back of his neck. "Come… come in, Harry."

She moves to the side as Harry walks through the doorway and into the flat. He knows it hasn't been long, but nothing has changed. Even with all of the things he has taken to his mum's, it still looks like the place they had apparently made their home, together. The coffee machine that admittedly didn't make as good of a latte as Way Cup, a few framed photos of them together throughout the last two and a half years, and as he looks over to the couch, he notices his favorite blanket sprawled across the back of it.

"So… are you staying here?" He asks, eyes still fixed on the couch.

"No… I just came to get the mail." She replies. He had forgotten to take the blanket as it had been tucked away out of sight. But seeing it laying out there in the living room, now knowing Adhira wasn't using it, means that YN has been, and the guilt he feels for everything will be what stops him from taking it back. "What are you doing here Harry?"

His eyes snap back over to be met with Adhira's questioning look and he knows the pain he has caused YN has also spread to her friends. Their friends.

"I want to tell her that m'sorry."

"Okay… Sorry for what?" She replies, crossing her arms across her chest. He senses her caution, and her guard of YN, and he can't blame her. She is testing him, to see if he truly knows what he is apologizing for.

"For how I treated her. For how I took her for granted. For how I couldn't make a decision, and it hurt her." He actually feels mildly proud of how quickly and effortlessly he was able to explain himself. With how jumbled his thoughts have been over the past few weeks, this is the clearest he has felt in a long time.

"Okay…"

"Look, Adhira, I told Tabitha we weren't going to be anything. And even if YN never wants…" The sadness he suddenly feels when he begins to make his statement is a little out of left field. He had only just recently realized, or rather acknowledged, that he likes YN, but the thought of her never wanting to see him again made his breathing race faster. He knows he doesn't deserve a chance to start things over with her, but he is now discovering that he wants that chance. "If she never wants to see me again… I just want her to know that I know I fucked up, and m'sorry."

Adhira stands there for a moment, studying his face as he shifts his weight between his legs, unable to stand still for more than just a few moments with the amount of anxiety flowing through his veins.

"Why did you cut it off with Tabitha?" She asks.

"Some things were bothering me. And then Sarah told me that she cheated on me, and I was done."

"You didn't know she cheated on you?" She replies, a wide and seemingly mildly judgemental look on her face.

"No. She lied to me. But I don't wanna get into that. I just wanna talk to YN."

"Well, she's not here. But I don't know if that's a good idea. I think she needs… space… and her own time to think about what it is that she wants now."

Harry's heart stops for a moment. Maybe it's too late. Maybe she already doesn't want to see him anymore. He can't blame her, he did this to her to a much deeper degree, and this is his consequence. But his mouth drops open and he can't hold back what he says next.

"We're supposed to be together." The sentence rolls out, one similar to what she had said to him, that he is supposed to want her.

"This isn't an obligation, Harry. She doesn't want to be that!" Adhira throws her hands down to her hips. "And she doesn't want to be your second choice."

"She's… she's not!" He shouts, instantly becoming aware of his volume and clearing his throat as he tries to compose himself. "I want… I want to be…"

The words get stuck in his throat as his mind begins to swirl again. All the positivity and small amount of hope he had been feeling have disappeared, like his memories, potentially along with his chance to make things right with YN.

"Be with her?" She asks, only being met with a nod. "Harry, she was hurt by not being remembered by you, then she was hurt by not being chosen by you…"

"I know." He lowers his gaze to the ground, feeling as if his body could follow along with it.

"I'm just saying that I don't want to see her get hurt again." She explains, Harry quickly gazing up to see her softened features.

"And I don't want to hurt her again." He whispers. He begins to feel hopeless, and helpless. He shouldn't have hurt her in the first place, it was unintentional, but he doesn't want her to go through anymore. The accident in itself was enough for her to have to deal with, but the stress, the nightmares, and his indecisiveness piled on top was just cruel, and it was his fault. He wants to make things right between them, but he doesn't really know how, and now he definitely doesn't think he deserves the chance to. Because he doesn't want to fail her anymore. "I should… I should go."

"Harry… I'm just-"

"No, s'alright. I get it."

He shoves one hand in his pocket and the other one throws up a little wave.

"Oh. Wait. I've got something for you." Adhira quietly states, jogging into YN's bedroom and returning with two shoeboxes in her hands. "I, umm, I was cleaning her room and found these in the back of the closet… they have your name on them."

He grabs the items and opens the lid of the box on top, seeing a stack of his writing journals inside. They are filled with all sorts of melodies and lyrics for songs, something he turns to a lot when he needs to express himself or an idea just pops in his head. He has a feeling that there is a decent amount in there about Tabitha, but probably way more about YN.

"Thanks." He mumbles. He should've known things would end up this way, without either of the people he had been torn between, even though there was really only one good choice in the first place. He doesn't pity himself. This is what he deserves- slinking out of his old flat, literally caring all of his feelings with him.

•••

A knock on his old bedroom door awakens Harry from a sorrow-induced nap. He honestly never thought he'd feel this low, especially about someone he still doesn't remember before the accident, yet here he was. He hasn't stopped thinking about how truly idiotic he has been, not truly giving his supposed relationship with YN an actual chance. Hindsight is evil in this case, as he becomes so aware of how amazing YN was to him. She really is someone who is beautiful inside and out.

"Harry?" Anne's voice vibrates through the door, pulling him further out of those sleepy, regretful thoughts.

"Come in, Mum." He replies, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Anne opens the door with a hot cup of tea in hand, making her way to sit next to her son and offering it to him, which he gladly accepts.

"What's going on, sweetheart?" She asks softly, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You've been grumpy since you moved back, and mopey since you got home today."

The comforting beverage in his hand serves another purpose, keeping Harry from throwing his hands up to his face. Instead, he looks quickly over to his mother, and then straight down to the ground.

"I fucked up."

"How so?" She asks lovingly, though he is fully aware that she can sense some of what is to come in this conversation. Not the details, but certainly the underlying tone.

"With YN. I was such an idiot." He replies, trying to take in a few breaths to keep himself and his thoughts together. Everything has been racing the last few weeks, and he reveled in the slightest relief he had from it as he made his way to the flat today, only for it to be snatched away from him and replaced again by the swirling tornado inside his mind. "I was too scared to try and make it work."

"Why?"

"Honestly, dunno. Afraid of the unknown maybe." He shrugs, disappointed in himself for how he handled it all. "And I let the familiarity of… Tabitha… keep me in that state of fear."

"Tabitha?" Anne replies, a bit of a hiss behind her words. "Harry… no…"

"I know. I know. It was the relationship I could remember, so I grasped onto it. But it was so stupid. I was so stupid." He winces, partially at the recollection of his poor choices, but also in anticipation of a scolding from his mum. Instead, there is silence, which causes him to look over to her. He can see her opening her mouth slightly, only to stay silent, and it makes him feel even worse that his own mother doesn't even know what to say. "Oh god… did you know? Did everyone know?"

"Know what?"

"That Tabitha cheated on me?"

Anne pulls her lips in and Harry notices an apologetic look in her eyes. His stomach knots tighter the longer she stays silent.

"Fuck! So… that means YN knew too…"

Harry suddenly feels as if he's been punched in the stomach as he watches Anne nod, painful to the point that he curls over himself, bending at the waist and almost dropping his cup of tea. YN never said anything about it, though to be fair, she also didn't know that he had been hanging out with Tabitha until recently. But even still, she didn't acknowledge it. No wonder she kicked him out. "I hurt her, Mum. Fuck. Now I dunno if I can make it right."

She places a hand on his thigh and gives it a couple of pats, something she had done throughout his childhood when they were engaged in a serious conversation.

"Harry…" She sighs, turning her body slightly more towards his and giving him a small smile. "I talked to her yesterday…"

He straightens up, unsure how he feels about the statement she just made. Is he hopeful that the connection they have with each other could give him a shot at making things right, or is he afraid that she is now cutting ties with anyone that has a connection with him?

"Y-you did?"

"Yes." She nods, giving his thigh another pat, which only causes his uncertainty to rise to the next level. "I probably shouldn't say anything."

He drops his head. That doesn't sound like a statement that would be positive for him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting in a large amount of air into his lungs to attempt to stay somewhat stable.

"Okay." He sighs.

She removes her hand from his thigh and begins to fidget with the hem of her jumper, clearly being the influence of his own nervous habit.

"She still loves you, Harry. Of course. But you're right, she is hurting." She states, looking to Harry with a complicated expression- compassionate yet concerned. "Do you have your memories back?"

He shook his head, furrowing his brow at the reminder of the only lost one he has managed to regain. "Only one, of the break-up with Tabitha."

"So… you want to work it out with her… even though you don't remember her from before?"

"Yeah." He softly mumbles, surprised at how well she communicated that statement. He hadn't thought about it like that. It made a smile form on his face, knowing that it means he truly does like YN, but it quickly disappears knowing that it might not matter anymore.

"Well, maybe not all hope is lost. Give her some time."

He nods, but his stomach turns in knots again and his heart sinks. He told her that he needed time, which created this painful position he finds himself in now. Time wasn't what he should've asked for, and if she ends up needing it herself, he is afraid that it won't end the way he hopes it would.

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

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