#i was crying while drawing this so sorry if it looks a bit wonky :(

[spudcat]

profoundly original idea

[itsjustnobody0]

Chapter 5.

Hi guys!! Nobody here! Hope your all good and welcome to part 5 of my fan fiction. It’s about to get interesting!!! If I haven’t hit you guys with enough drama yet this is going to knock you off your feet completely! If you haven’t seen the drama in the last chapters here is the links to go catch up on it:

Chapter 1- https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/itsjustnobody0/693832797859856384?source=share

Chapter 2- https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/itsjustnobody0/693832797859856384?source=share

Chapter 3- https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/itsjustnobody0/693835729264082944?source=share

Chapter 4- https://at.tumblr.com/itsjustnobody0/chapter-4-hi-guys-and-welcome-back-i-hope-your/lbq8794dbbp8

So hopefully your all caught up! I haven’t posted in a while and I’m not feeling the best mentally but I had most of this chapter done anyway. I only write a few lines today the rest has been written for forever so I kinda forgot what direction it’s going in. Enjoy guysss!!

TW for chapter 5-

Alcohol 

Dilated Pupils

Blood

Passing out

Beatings

Basements

Sharp knife

Kicking

Stabbing 

All of these are briefly mentioned some not even the word, I just put them on in case. They probably won’t even trigger people who get triggered by them but just in case. Enjoy!!

 Ranboo set his laptop down and logged in. I grabbed the memory stick out of my pocket, I had grabbed it after I saw Jack. I took a deep breath and plugged it in. All the videos and pictures loaded onto the screen. We clicked on the first one and saw me in a park. I was on the red and black swing, laughing while my dad pushed me. It was kinda cute, it was definitely not how I remembered my dad. We clicked the arrow and saw me with a rucksack with books in holding someone’s hand. You couldn’t see who it was. Then we clicked the arrow and found a video. We turned the sound to midway and pressed play. 

The camera pointed at my dad, he wore a stained, white, tank top and his hair was messy, pupils dilated. He held a belt in his hand and he looked angry. I could here my mother laughing behind the camera, it was shacking slightly as she did. The camera then turned to what looked like a 7 year old me on the floor crying.

“GET UP YOU LITTLE BITCH.” My father shouted. I cried some more as I pulled myself up off the ground. I was shaky and unstable and I was bleeding all along my back. My dad whipped me again and again around my back making it bleed and go red. I wasn’t wearing a shirt just underwear. 

I stared in shock at the computer screen, I had forgotten about them filming that. They normally only filmed the bad beatings but that was one of the first ones so I guess they wanted it for future reference. I didn’t dare look either side of me at the two boys sitting next to me. I pulled my hand towards the computer and clicked the arrow again, it was another video. I clicked play.

It was in the same room again, a basement type thing. That was where I was locked most of my life. I was a bit older this time, around ten, a year before I ended up on the streets. My father was holding a sharp knife in his right hand.

“Now, now, you little bitch. What should I draw today?” He rhetorically asked me. Of course, the condition I was in I wasn’t fit to answer anyway. My mother was once again, cackling behind the camera like the witch she was.

“I don’t feel very arty today so maybe some basic patterns. Some long lasting scars.” He pondered what he was going to do. He brought the knife to my bruised, agitated skin. He stabbed it quiet far into my back, then he dragged it in a wonky line down it. My screams pierced the air, they were super loud. My dad joined in with my mothers laughing. I soon passed out from blood loss and pain. The video ended with my father kicking my in the head, hard. 

I felt both of the boys staring at me. I looked at each of them a bit nervous about what they were thinking at me. They looked sorry for me but also shocked. They probably weren’t expecting to see what they just saw but then again neither did I.

“You know what, how about that movie?” I asked them. They both quickly nodded. I took my memory stick out and placed it back into my pocket. We got on Netflix and we put on the basketball diaries and relaxed watching the movie.

 (yes I know that isn’t on Netflix anymore but it’s my favourite movie so deal with it)

Eventually the movie finished and my eyes were getting heavy. I looked at the other two boys and they looked wide awake. 

“What time is it?” I asked

“Almost ten o’clock.” Tubbo told me

“Oh it’s not even that late.” I mumbled

“Are you tired?” Ranboo asked me

“No not at all.” I said in the strongest voice I could master. I heard them chuckle at me.

“Heyyy. Don’t laugh at me.” I said grumpily

“Go to sleep.” Tubbo laughed.

“Well if you insist.” I nodded.

Soon after I fell asleep leaning against someone. 

That night I had nightmares. Bad ones. They were all of the place. And of my parents. Memories of them beating me. Scarfing me for life, both mentally and physically. They were horrible and vivid nightmares as if I was really back there. 

I was sitting in a ball on the floor, screaming loudly. I was crying, my salty tears streaming down my bruised face. I knew what was coming next, my father hovered over me holding the sharp knife, the one he used to torture me. He yanked me up by the neck, holding my off the ground slightly. I kicked and thrashed my feat in hope that he would drop me. He threw me against the wall hard, I landed on the floor with a loud thud. I couldn’t move very well, all I could do was scream and cry. 

“STAND UP!” He screamed at me. I knew better then to ever disobey him so I did what he asked. I used the wall to pull myself up and face him. He looked at my with disgust. I looked down at his feet, afraid to look at him.

“LOK AT ME! NOW!” He shouted. I quickly moved my head to look at his face, it was contorted in anger. I wasn’t sure what I had actually done but my father liked to punish me for a lot of things. 

He walked towards me and I tried not to whimper away. He raised his fist and punished me hard in the head. My lip busted open and I could feel the blood dribbling down my chin and neck. I looked at him again because if I didn’t it would get worse. He raised the life at me and pushed me against the wall. He held me there and put the knife up to my head. He dragged it down, making a jagged scar over my eye. It hurt so much and I tried to get away, not caring what he would do to me. Me trying to do that was a mistake, when he got to my eye he pushed the knife in. I could feel the cool blade inside my eyeball. It was so horrible and it hurt so much. At first all I could see was red out of my one eye, and then black. I was screaming and crying so much that I didn’t notice that until he dropped me. I closed my eyes and hoped this wasn’t real, I hope that not of this had happened, but it had. I opened my eyes and looked around, I couldn’t see anything, this made me cry even more, my own father had made me go blind. That was the day I knew I had to escape, that was the day I realised that anywhere was better then there.

I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and tears streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away, I hated crying so much. I sat up and turned the lights on. I saw that I was in my own room somebody must have taken me back there. I didn’t dare go back to sleep that night.

I went to the window I had climbed out two days ago and looked out of it. I opened it and looked up. The drain I had recently climbed down was also available to climb up. I swung myself onto the windowsill and grabbed the drain. I pulled my weight over to the drain and climbed up, it was surprisingly easy to climb up. I got onto the roof, it was a red slate kinda roof, not very slippy, but also not easy to keep your balance. I slowly stood up and walked further up the roof. It was sloped a bit but not enough to make it impossible to walk on. I’m sat down and watched the sun rise, it was very beautiful. I sighed thinking about everything that had happened in the last week, it was hard to process. I missed the streets and I wanted to get back to them but I didn’t want to leave here that bad. I had made two friends, even though they probably thought I was annoying. The food here was nice enough, and I had a place to sleep. The rules were a bit shit but I could bend them enough. It wasn’t if they would kick me out, it would put me back to the start  and after all the effort they had put themselves through to get me here it wasn’t worth just kicking me out again. 

Soon after I heard noise from inside the house, meaning people were finally up. I climbed down from the roof and back into my room. It was starting to get messy, I made a mental note that I had to tidy it later. I put my coat and beanie on over the joggers and T-shirt I was wearing.  I walked downstairs and saw Niki cooking something.

“What you making?” I asked loudly

“Pancakes.” She smiled at me. I gave her a half smile back.

“Can I have one please?” I asked politely

“Of course you can Y/n!” She answered

“Thank you.” I smiled properly this time.

I decided to watch her mix everything, it looked very confusing but also fun. She was humming something as she worked, the thing she was humming sounded familiar, like I’d heard it somewhere. Before I knew it I was singing along. I didn’t know the name of the song but I’d heard it when I was younger, it was comforting to hear something familiar. We laughed and sing together and just had a good time, I was enjoying myself and before I knew it my pancake was done. 

I could only have one as I hadn’t been eating much for the last few years and I didn’t want to be sick but I enjoyed it so much. Niki’s baking was so good and she was a talented baker.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” I asked gesturing at the ingredients. 

“Sure! Come here I’ll show you!”

[bluebunf]

P + J sister HC (ANGST!)💛💙

Okay so! I've always wanted to share my hcs and here's one of them! (Also be aware, this became longer than I thought and the format is kinda wonky!! Sorry!!!)

So basically, in my original younger!pepa and younger!julieta drawings, I've always seen julieta have short hair. Idk why, but my mind went straight to backstory mode and this is what I seemed to have developed:

Julieta, one day, heard muffled noises coming from pepa's room. Her door slightly ajar, she quietly peeps in to check on her but without the intention to intrude. She sees pepa, on the floor, her upper body ok her bed heaving. Her sobs more noticeable and everything around her is wet and her cloud heavily rains her belongings around her, although,her tear stained bedsheets are apperent. She's been silently crying. She hears her quiet mantra of "clear skies, clear skies" as she tries and hold back her tears, but thunder and a hint of hail continues to pour. Julieta sees that it has noticeably become darker outside, her worries starts to come in waves. "Why is she crying?" "Is she hurt?" "Who did this to her?" Her own questions flood her mind as she muster up the courage to approach her vulnerable sister.

"Why can't I be like her, why can't I be normal?" She hears her sister whimper. She sees her sister rake her hair, still heaving. "I-i know she's perfect, I know that she's beautiful and helpful and-and- kind and so approachable and-and-dìos mio- why am I so temperamental? God- I can't even do anything right" She hears pepa exclaim as she sees her keep her head down and scans her room and glance at the window. Pepa knows she's causing a storm, she knows her mámá will soon come up her room once she notices the now pouring rain, lightning and hail.

"Carlos and his family is going to hate me again," pepa huffs, her hands now gripping her skirt. She hiccups, "it's not like it matters anymore anyways... it's always been Julieta..." she sighs, her breathing a bit more steady now. She sniffles a bit and rests her cheek on her bed as she tries to recollect herself, a tired feeling slowly washes over her.

Julieta couldn't help but feel guilty as she witnessed her sister cry herself to sleep. This wasn't been the first time she's heard pepa compare herself to her. She has always noticed, jealous glances or light scornful remarks she would her under pepa's breath everytime a possible suitor would come over to profess their love or attempt to woo the eldest madrigal. Julieta never knew how to address it, as she fears of creating unnecessary conflict between her and her sister's complicated relationship regarding possible partners.

Since's pepas gift has always been so wonderfully grand and mesmerizing, it could also come as unforgiving. Men(boys) their age never really learned (nor did they want to) "deal" with pepas gift. And rather, they would fear her as they wouldn't want to be the reason for another flood or hurricane arrive next morning in encanto

And so later that night, pepa's absence in the dinner table further added weight to julietas mind and stomach. Bruno seemed to keep to himself as well, as if he was being kept quiet because of something else. Alma's kept her stern yet graceful front. A void seeps it's way in everyone's mind that night.

In the dead of night, Julieta finds herself in the bathroom, a tight feeling in her chest still continues to grow. She looks at the mirror above the sink, she sees herself with dark and swollen eyes and a tired demeanor. She doesn't know what to do. A silver glimmer catches her eyes. Scissors. She's graps it, holds it, and fiddles with it. She can feel her pulse quicken, her throat dry up and her vision turnslightly hazy. She closes her eyes and holds the scissors by her hair. Snip

Tears starts spilling our of eyes, the water blurring her vision. A faint sob in each snip and her heart continues to become heavier. After a little while, she looks down at the cluster of hair, scattered and piling up around the sink and on the floor. Her knees buckle and she weeps, a hand over her mouth to keep everything in. She breaks down in the dark, with only a small candle and the gentle moonlight keeping her company.

Not long after, she hears the squeak of the door opening, not Casita.

She quickly turns her head and sees bruno, like a deer in the headlights. Worry and concern slowly forms in his face, as he carefully walks towards Julieta.

Julieta and Bruno eye contact never break as bruno makes his way and settles himself in front of Julieta. First scanning and noticing her uneven hair, and the collection of hair scattered around the floor, and the scissors that still reside in her hands. He solemnly holds his arms open wide. Julieta then started bawling into his shoulder, her cries hushed by his forest green ruana. brunos tightens grip around her as to try and give comfort and keep her grounded. He keeps silent. He doesn't know what to do, so he just keeps her company.

After julietas calmed down, she stays in a hazed trance. At this time, she has already let go of the scissors and has taken a hand held mirror from nearby and looks at herself.

"Are you okay?" Bruno squeaks. Julieta slowly nods, still dazed. Bruno then rubs her back in circular motions and inspects her hair more.

"May I?" He carefully asks, as he reaches for the scissors. Julieta just hums and let's him be. Bruno then tries to even her hair as much as he could, with Julieta watches him from the mirror.

Morning then comes, everyone was up and about except for Julieta. Bruno was worried, Pepa was indifferent, and alma was concerned.

Later in the afternoon, Julieta reveals herself and her new haircut to her family and the town as she makes her way to her food stand. Short and sweet. Her hair nicely frames her face, albeit a not perfectly.

Everyone was shocked, but pleasantly surprised. Many people coming over to just compliment her and her suitors crowd around her. All questioning for her sudden change in style, in which she simply answered "its easier to cook this way" with a pained smile

Pepa sees her smile and is slightly dumbfounded. She knew her sister took care of her hair, as long hair is a sign of feminity in her culture. She decides to not comment on it, seeing how she's being flooded by complements left and right anyways. Still, she feels concerned at the fact that her sister always took good care of her hair. A sudden change in style for the sake of efficiency wasn't like her.

Unbeknownst to her, Julieta saw her hair as a sign of her love for her sister. An act of sacrifice for her as it was better than feeling hopeless or confronting her about it.

------------ 💛💙💛------------

Also!! Ever since Jared responded to an ask with:

It reminded me of my hc of the sisters and really made me ponder abt what I'd headcannon brunos formative years :0!

N E WAYS MORE TO COME MAYB??? I do have more younger marigals + félix and agustin coming, I just keep getting distracted aksksf TY FOR READING IF U GOT THIS FAR ❤❤❤

[irishseeeker]

                                        the story of us

summary:  Five times Kate Sheffield and Anthony Bridgeton were just friends and one time they were more.

find chapter 1 here or here

find chapter 2 here or here

find chapter 3 here or here

find chapter 4 here or here

find chapter 5 part 1  here or here

----

chapter 5 part 2: all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

Anthony Bridgerton was an idiot.

He wasn’t just an idiot. You see, usually idiots are not aware of their idiocy. They live carefree and blissfully unaware of their idiocy.

Anthony knew he was being an idiot.

It was eating him alive.

He didn’t stop it, though. He didn’t know what else to do. He kept his distance from Kate as much as he could. It was the only thing he could think to do.

It was just so difficult.

He would screw it up. He would break them. It’s what he did. He screwed things up. He had nearly screwed things up with Daphne and Simon, he had screwed things up with Siena and he would screw things up with Kate.

Kate had been a constant in his life since he was nineteen years old.

Kate was his lifeline.

Anthony knew he shouldn’t put that all on her but he didn’t have a choice. There was nothing he could control when it came to Kate Sheffield. He had been completely hers since the moment they sat down in that lecture hall and she announced that he was wrong to their entire lecture.

Then proceeded to argue with him for the next thirty minutes.

He never stood a chance.

Kate deserved everything. She didn’t need someone who had an irrational fear of dropping dead from a bee sting and couldn’t manage a healthy relationship.

It’s not like he tried.

What was the point? They weren’t Kate.

Anthony needed time.

He needed time to figure it out. He could manage it. He had to get his head straight and learn to just erase his feelings and the constant pain. He had to learn to adapt and inevitably watch her be happy with someone else.

If they got too close, they would implode. The fine line between them had grown thinner and thinner and they were in the danger zone. They had been since their kiss.

It couldn’t happen again.

The thing about Kate was she still had that magic.

Kate believed in love. Kate wanted that struck by lightning, unconditional and inconceivable type of love. She deserved that type of love.

Kate deserved to feel the way Anthony felt every time he looked at her.

Anthony wasn’t a complete pessimist, he knew love existed. He had grown up watching his parents madly in love until his dad died. His mother had barely recovered from it. Anthony still hadn’t recovered from it. Violet Bridgerton still had bad days, days where she forgot to pick up Hyacinth or Gregory from school or lay in bed all day, barely moving. How could he do that to Kate? How could he let himself go through that?

That type of love wasn’t something he could give her.

That’s why he couldn't try with Kate. If there was a chance something could happen between them, he wouldn’t take it.

He wouldn't ruin that kind of love for her.

He would always love her, he would just have to let someone else do it.

He just had to figure out how to.

His only plan so far was avoiding her.

That plan was pretty flawed so far.

Anthony didn’t want to hurt Kate. He knew he was hurting her anyway, he didn’t miss her hurt expressions or uncharacteristic silences when he made an excuse that he had to go out for a while or that he would be late coming home. He was trying to fix things before something bad happened.

It’s just incredibly difficult to avoid the one person you spend all your time with and you happen to live with.

He wasn’t necessarily avoiding her, he was just distancing himself temporarily from her while he sorted things out. which is something he liked to convince himself of to try not feel like a complete and utter asshole.

He had even booked hotel rooms to try to get some sleep. How could he sleep when Kate was a few metres away from him? How could he concentrate on anything but Kate when she was close to him?

He needed to protect them.

He needed boundaries.

He also needed Kate.

“Anthony!” Hyacinth shouted cheerfully, grinning widely at her brother as she ran towards him from the school’s front door. Anthony had been leaning against the railing of the gate, waiting for Hyacinth and Gregory to finish school.

His afternoon meetings had been cancelled so he called their nanny, Pippa and told her to take the rest of the day off. His mother had been down at Aubrey Hall for the week with builders planning some reconstruction and she was due back this evening. She hadn’t said anything yet but he suspected it had something to do with preparations for Daphne’s wedding. Anthony wanted to see his siblings and he needed a distraction from the million thoughts running through his head.

“Hi titch,” Anthony said, grinning back at her as he leaned down and picked her up, resting her on his hip. She was too old at seven to be carried around, but he didn’t really care. He needed Hyacinth to stay little for as long as possible. “How was school? Have you seen Greg?”

“It was fun,” She murmured, resting her cheek on his shoulder and letting out a small yawn. “We had to draw our favourite animal, so I obviously drew Newton.”

Anthony couldn’t stop the smirk breaking out on his face. “Obviously. Can I see?”

Hyacinth nodded slowly, wiggling out of his arms so she could open up her Jurassic Park backpack. She pulled out a piece of paper with her drawing, which had a crayon version of what Anthony guessed was Hyacinth, Gregory, Kate, Anthony and the ginger blob in the middle that was Newton.

Something inside of Anthony’s chest clenched.

“Be careful,” Hyacinth scolded, prying the paper out of Anthony’s hands. “I’m going to give it to Kate.”

Anthony bent down to Hyacinth’s eye level, smiling at her as he held open her back and put the picture back inside. “Kate will love it.”

Kate would love it. She was so incredible with Hyacinth and Gregory and they adored her. Kate kept everything they had given her over the years, it had been pinned up on Anthony’s fridge along with the drawings and pictures he’d received from them since Kate had moved in.

They also adored her demon corgi, who had taken over Anthony’s flat for weeks. The little shit climbed into his bed every single night and he knew Anthony wouldn’t kick him out. He had given up a long time ago.

He also started walking him whenever Kate couldn’t, she usually brought him in the evenings and Anthony in the morning when he went for his daily jog.

It made Kate insanely happy when he did it, so obviously Anthony was going to do it.

He had quickly snapped a sly picture when Hyacinth wasn’t looking, he had to send it to Kate. There was no harm in it. Right?

It was just a picture.

Anthony: [sent an image]

Anthony: Your demon inspired Hyacinth’s picture for animal day. She’s excited to show you this later.

Kate: omg. I want to cry that is so bloody cute. Can’t wait to pin it up on the fridge. You look like you’ve put on a few pounds though x

Kate: please do not talk about your godson like that

Anthony: Please, I’m still the best looking guy you’ll ever know.

Kate: sorry, it’s spelled p-a-t-h-e-t-i-c*

Anthony: Sorry, it’s spelled I-am-letting-you-live-in-my-flat*

Kate: My presence is a gift.

Anthony: Also-We’re not getting into this again. I have no familial relation to Newton.

Kate: He has your middle name!

Anthony: Dogs don’t have middle names!

Kate: Do you want to see his birth certificate?

Anthony: Do you mean the certificate you made yourself and framed on your wall? Unfortunately, I’ve seen it more than once. That’s enough for a lifetime.

Kate: [sent an image]

Anthony: Your middle finger is a bit wonky.

Kate: [sent an image]

Anthony: I hope your boss saw you take that.

Anthony chuckled under his breath as he looked up from his phone, spotting Gregory talking to a few of his friends across the playground before waving at Anthony, jogging towards them. He glanced back at the text chain, internally cursing at himself. Why did he always have to flirt with her? He couldn’t help it.

“Hey mate!” Anthony grinned as Gregory reached them, wearing his football kit. They were heading straight to Gregory’s football training in a nearby park, where Anthony and Hyacinth would go for a walk and wait for training to finish. Anthony ruffled his hair, taking his bag and sports bag. “Good day?”

“Hey!” Gregory said, grunting at Hyacinth before beaming up at Anthony. Anthony knew it wouldn’t last forever but he’d pay every cent he had to keep Greg looking at him like he was his hero. “Are you coming to watch me play football?”

“Of course I am,” Anthony said, nudging at Hyacinth to start walking towards the car. “I can’t wait. Are you excited? Come on, we better get going.”

“Anthony! Hello!” A blonde woman Anthony had definitely seen before was standing around a group of women, with their kids running around them and screaming. She practically pushed another woman out of the way to get to him. “How are you?”

He couldn’t for the life of him remember who she was. “Hello,” He said lamely, glancing at Gregory and Hyacinth who looked bored and were absolutely no help. “I’m great, thank you. How are you? Nice to see you again. I’m sorry, we’re just in a bit of a rush.”

It was slightly rude of him but once one of these parents cornered you, you’d be stuck there for hours. He wasn’t going to get stuck talking about a bake sale for the next half an hour.

“I’m lovely thank you-Oh! Yes, of course. You’re such a good brother. Have a good day!” The blonde woman called after Anthony as he hastily nudged Hyacinth and Gregory along. “If you need any help or are interested in the bake sale next week, I can give you my number-”

“Get in,” Anthony practically hissed urgently, waving his hand in the direction of the women but quickly flicking open his boot and car.

“One of them is Sasha’s mum,” Hyacinth grumbled, glancing back at the herd of women whose eyes had followed them towards Anthony’s car. “They think you’re good looking.”

Anthony threw their bags in the boot and opened the back door, winking at Hyacinth as she climbed into the car. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Anthony laughed as Hyacinth and Gregory both made disgusted faces.

Gregory frowned at his passenger side. “I’m too old for a car seat.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “The law would argue otherwise. In.”

Gregory took one look at his brother’s face and didn’t argue, grumbling as he moved into the car seat. Anthony checked their seatbelts and once everything was set, he climbed in himself and drove off to the park.

“When are you and Kate getting married?”

“What?” Anthony’s eyes snapped towards the rearview mirror, widening as he looked at Hyacinth.

Hyacinth didn’t seem phased whatsoever by her question. “When are you and Kate getting married?”

“We’re not,” Anthony said with a steady voice, glancing towards Greg who was too consumed with his Nintendo to care about the conversation. Is that what they both taught? “Why would you ask that?”

Hyacinth shrugged. “Daph and Simon are getting married.”

“That’s because they’re engaged.”

“Oh,” Hyacinth said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she processed the conversation. “Why aren’t you and Kate engaged?”

“Kate and I are friends,” Anthony explained, feeling the dampness of his palms against the steering wheel. “We’re not like Daphne and Simon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Anthony said, a slight edge of irritation in his voice as he focused back on the road. He didn’t need to be mean, Hyacinth didn’t understand what she was talking about. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Well, people in love get married right?”

“Yes.”

“Daphne and Simon love each other?”

“They do.”

“Did Mum and Dad love each other?”

Anthony felt himself soften. “Very much.”

“Don’t you love Kate?”

“I do,” Anthony said hesitantly because he did in the exact way Hyacinth was asking but he didn’t really feel like getting into that. “People can love each other and not get married. It’s different for Kate and I-”

“No it’s not,” Hyacinth interrupted, a finality to the tone of her voice. It was the tone she used before she had a complete fit or meltdown. “I better be a flower girl.”

Anthony knew he was fighting a losing battle, and the irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him in relation to his current predicament. “At our non-existent wedding? Of course you can.”

Hyacinth stuck his tongue out at her and it reminded him so much of Kate, he nearly laughed out of relief and pain.

There it was again.

Kate.

Kate was constantly on his mind.

This was the problem. It was hit fault. This wasn’t the first time a family member, well, not just his family-anyone-had suggested there was something going on between him and Kate. They weren’t just friends. Kate was his best friend, she was everything but she had always been something a little bit more.

He had found her eight years ago and he didn’t know what to do.

Now, it felt like it was too late.

What the hell was he going to do?

Anthony couldn’t get Kate’s hurt look out of his head as he charged out of the house. It even momentarily distracted him from the blind fury he was feeling while he drove to the police station.

Benedict and Simon were right behind him, Benedict climbing into the front and Simon into the back. Anthony put the car in gear, speeding out of the driveway. The police station Colin was detained in wasn’t far and Anthony had already sorted out everything.

“Why did you do that?” Benedict asked, breaking the silent and tense atmosphere in the car as Anthony danced along the speeding limit, his foot pressing onto the accelerator to get to Colin.

He was relieved his brother was okay because Anthony was going to kill him himself.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you let Kate come? Over Simon?” Benedict asked, staring flatly at Anthony. “No offence Simon.”

Simon shook his head, pursing his lips. “None taken. I’m happy-well, not happy-happy to help.”

“I didn’t let Kate do anything.” Anthony said, in complete disbelief Benedict was bringing this up. There was a reason he didn’t let Kate come, he was trying to distance her from all of his shit. She didn’t need to be involved in this.

“Oh right,” Benedict said, sarcasm dripping in his tone which pissed off Anthony even further. “That makes sense. As if Kate isn’t involved in everything to do with you and our family. Kate is a part of our family. Why haven’t you done something about it?”

“She doesn’t need to be involved in this.” What the hell was Benedict doing? Why did it feel like everyone was against him? Anthony was trying, he was bloody trying and everything still went to complete shit.

Benedict didn’t buy a word of it. “Are you ever going to tell her?”

“Don’t start this shit tonight Ben,” Anthony said, his tense voice a warning, not a request. “Our brother is in jail.”

“I’m just saying-”

“I didn’t ask,” Anthony interrupted swiftly, his grip on the wheel tightening significantly. He could practically feel the vein in his forehead bulging. “Drop it.”

Anthony could see Benedict glance back at Simon, making some sort of gesture but Simon just shrugged, shaking his head.

Smart move, Hastings.

“Let’s go,” Anthony said once they arrived at the station, getting out of the car and walking into the empty police station. He paid Colin’s bail, filling out a form as he waited for an officer to bring Colin out.

Colin eventually appeared, looking worse for wear. He didn’t look in any way hurt, which made Anthony relax slightly. The blue shirt he was wearing was rumpled and the mop of brown hair on the top of his head was sticking up in various directions, but he was okay.

“Anthony-”

“Not a fucking word,” Anthony snapped, his voice deadly low as he looked at Colin who shut his mouth quickly. “Follow Ben to the car. Now.”

Benedict lightly squeezed Colin on the shoulder as Colin walked towards him, opening and closing his mouth before deciding to do what Anthony said.

Anthony had to take a few deep breaths before he walked out towards the car. He needed to keep his cool. Whatever happened, Colin was his brother and it didn’t need to result in a huge argument. As long as Colin took responsibility for his actions, it would be relatively okay.

Colin was twenty-two years old and still acting like a complete child. He traveled whenever he wasn’t at university and didn’t show any responsibility when it came to their family and his own life. Anthony was trying to not get too involved, getting Colin to even go to university had taken ten years off his life but sometimes Colin really tested his patience.

Anthony’s cool temperament lasted about twenty seconds once he got into the car.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Anthony snorted while Benedict sighed deeply. “It never is, is it Colin?” “I was drunk,” Colin said, slumping in his seat like Gregory did when he was annoyed about something. “Marina dumped me. I met up with my mates and got drunk. It was a mistake. How was I supposed to know you’re not meant to piss on statues?”

Anthony hesitated for a moment, glancing back at his brother’s face. Colin was in pain. He had really liked Marina, the whirlwind he had met while skiing in France over Christmas. Anthony had never seen his brother fall so hard. “I’m sorry about Marina, Colin. I am. That’s not an excuse to act like a complete and utter idiot and break the law.”

“It was an accident!” Colin snapped back, his voice rising in line with Anthony's. “What do you want me to do, Ant?”

“I just bailed you out of jail,” Anthony snapped, the anger he had been holding in finally coming out. He was racing home within the speed limit, the confinement of the car making him claustrophobic. “I made sure that that stayed off your permanent record so you didn’t get thrown out of university or asked about in job interviews. Instead of acting like a spoiled little brat you could be a little more grateful and shut up.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re right,” Anthony snapped, really focusing on not losing his head. “Yet I did it anyway.”

“I’m so fucking sorry I’m not perfect like you, Anthony,” Colin said, his voice full of venom as Anthony pulled up into the driveway. “That I’m not perfect like Ben, Daph, El, Franny or fuck it, Dad! I’m so sorry I don’t live up to your perfect expectations.”

“Oh shut up Colin,” Anthony snapped, his voice just as angry as Colin's. “You fucked up. I’m not interested in listening to your sob story to make yourself into a victim. Take some responsibility for once in your life.”

Anthony felt the guilt flood his body as he spoke to his brother. He knew he would be ashamed of himself later, he already was as the words sunk in. He was just so angry. Colin never took responsibility for anything and this was just another time he had gone too far and expected no consequences and Anthony to pick up the pieces.

“Fine,” Colin said, shaking his head as he flung the door open. “Here’s some responsibility for you. I’m dropping out of university.”

Then he slammed Anthony’s car door shut and all hell broke loose.

Anthony didn’t have anything left to say.

His fight with Colin, every insult and dagger he had thrown at him, circled around in his head and rang in his ears. He couldn’t find the words to speak as Kate drove them home. He wanted to say something, to put Kate at ease as she anxiously glanced at him the entire way home.

He just didn’t have anything left in him.

Colin’s words were on repeat in his head like a broken record.

“I don’t need to try to be a carbon copy of Dad to figure out my life. I’m not you, Anthony. Desperately trying to be someone he’ll never be.”

Colin was right.

Anthony sat down on the couch in his flat, his limbs heavy and deflated as the reality of his brother’s words hit him like a tonne of bricks.

He then did something that he hadn’t done since the day his father died, in his mother’s bedroom, away from his family.

He cried.

The sobs hit him like a wave and moved throughout his body, flooding out of him and everything he had been holding in for years. He cried for his dad, who he missed so much it killed him a little bit inside every single day. He cried for the man he desperately was trying to be but knew he never would. He cried for his family who had a gaping hole in it he could never fill. He cried for his family, who he tried so hard for but somehow always managed to fuck it up.

Anthony cried for everything that he had lost, everything that he was selfish enough to be angry about. Everyone he didn’t go, everything he didn’t do and everyone he didn’t meet because he had to step up.

He cried for Kate, the person who made him feel like he was worth something and that he was doing something right sometimes. He could never allow himself to let her know how he felt. He couldn’t do that to her.

Kate held him against her chest, her head resting on top of his as she moved her hand up and down his back, murmuring soothing words as he cried until nothing else could come out.

Anthony was surprised when Colin showed up at his flat the next morning. Kate had made him a cup of tea before putting Newton on his lead, throwing one final glare at Colin and a reassuring smile at Anthony before leaving their flat.

His flat.

His flat.

It was incredibly awkward, as both the Bridgerton men sat on Anthony’s couch in complete silence. Colin was tapping his foot against the ground, looking up at Anthony and back at the floor as his mouth opened and closed as he decided what to say.

“I’ve always liked Kate.”

That took Anthony by surprise. “Who wouldn’t?”

“For a second there,” Colin said, a half chuckle coming out of his mouth that was muffled by his pained expression. “I didn’t think she’d let me in.”

“As someone who has been on the wrong side of Kate many times,” Anthony said, smiling slightly as leaned back into the couch. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“She’s terrifying.”

“Absolutely petrifying,” Anthony said, nodding in agreement. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Do you hate me?”

Anthony’s head snapped up, the strange lightness of their conversation fading completely. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

“I’d hate me.”

Despite everything that had happened, Anthony was reminded of who was sitting right in front of him. Colin was so like their dad it hurt Anthony sometimes. He was fun, happy, irrational, spontaneous and he cared so passionately about the people in his life. He was also young and still trying to figure things out. He made mistakes. He had his heartbroken. He was just trying.

They were all just trying.

“I love you, Colin,” Anthony said firmly, because it was true and there wasn’t anything his brother could say to ever make Anthony think or feel otherwise. “There’s nothing that could ever happen to make me not love you. Okay? I only want what is best for you. I know how unreasonable I can be sometimes. Maybe I was wrong for thinking what was best for me is what is best for you. I just want you to be okay if something ever happened to me.”

Colin visibly gulped. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Ant. I’ll never be more sorry for what I said about Dad. I didn’t mean it. I am a horrible person for saying that to you. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I do mean this, though. You’re not Dad, Ant. You’re you. You don’t need to be Dad. You don’t need to be anyone else but you. Everyone needs you to be you. We all have gotten this far because you’re you, Ant. Not Dad. Not anyone. You.”

Anthony was absolutely speechless as he listened to Colin. Colin and him had clashed over the years but they were so alike in so many ways.

“I know I haven’t always made things easy on you. I think about him a lot. If he would be proud of me. I don’t think he would.”

“Of course he would,” Anthony said firmly, finally finding his voice. “There’s so much to be proud of. You’re a fantastic person, Colin. You annoy the shit out of me sometimes but you’re an incredible person.”

“I want you to be proud of me.” Colin’s voice was shaky as he spoke, the emotion of the situation finally coming to the surface.

“Colin,” Anthony said seriously, looking at his brother. “There’s no world where I’m not proud of you. You shouldn’t worry about what I think-”

“Anthony,” Colin said seriously, looking his brother in the eye for the first time that morning. “All I think about is what you think. You’re the voice inside of my head. Even if you sometimes annoy the shit out of me, I need you there. I know we all wouldn’t be okay if it wasn’t for you. I’m so sorry I haven’t shown you how much I appreciate that. I’m so sorry. I’ll never be more sorry for that.”

The large lump in Anthony’s throat was becoming extremely painful. “You don’t need to apologize-”

“I do and I am,” Colin said, standing up and moving towards Anthony. “I love you. You’re the type of person all of us can only hope we can be. You’re my big brother. I’m going to hug you now. It’s going to be awkward but I feel like it’s necessary.”

They wrapped their arms around each other, slapping each other’s backs and holding onto each other tightly.

They eventually pulled back, both turning their heads slightly to compose themselves and wipe their eyes with the back of their sleeves.

“That’s enough emotion for a lifetime,” Colin murmured, moving back to his original seat and letting out a sigh. “Beer?”

“Beer.”

Of all the places Anthony Bridgerton imagined himself to be at this point in his life, it wasn’t at his sisters and best friend’s engagement party.

Simon had surprised Anthony by showing up to his flat after him and Colin had sorted things out. Simon had kept a respectful distance since Anthony had found out about Daphne and him, not pushing Anthony into anything and forcing their friendship back to the place it was.

Instead, something else had happened. They were in a new place. They were starting off a clean slate. They were back to hanging out, playing golf, grabbing dinner and drinks. Anthony was his best man. He didn’t want to hold grudges anymore. He wanted his best friend back.

The past week had surprisingly been great. He had decided to put everything on hold with Kate and he had spent an unbelievable amount of time with her this week, going against every part of his initial plan. The only bad part of his week was moving Kate into her new flat. The flat felt so empty and lifeless without her.

He even missed Newton, which is something he’d keep to himself until his deathbed.

Simon joined him at the bar, smacking his back. “Good speech, mate.”

“Mm,” Anthony said, giving him a sarcastic grin as he finished off his whiskey. “I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

“It really came from the heart.”

“Let’s not get soppy,” Anthony said, nodding in thanks to the bartender as he topped up his whiskey glass. “I have just decided I can tolerate you again.”

“Please, I was your favourite person until Miss Kate Sheffield came along,” Simon teased, grinning at Anthony’s side-eye. “Not that I blame you. She’s really something.”

“Back to that speech though,” Simon said, his back to the bar as he surveyed the buzzing dance floor. “I don’t think it was us you were entirely talking about.”

Kate.

Anthony’s heart stopped in his chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Simon said, downing the rest of the contents of his glass with a gleeful smirk. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go dance with my fiance.”

Bastard.

His family really needed to learn to mind their own bloody business.

“Anthony.”

Anthony’s vision was fuzzy. He could hear a light buzzing in his ear. Kate’s words were still playing in his ears.

“Forget me. I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”

He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t let this happen. He had tried so hard to protect them and it only ended with him fucking everything up so royally.

He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body, his eyes were stinging and his limbs were moving out of his own accord. He was bustling through the crowd, trying to find Kate who had disappeared into it.

“Anthony!”

Anthony barely heard his own name until someone grabbed his arm. Francesca.

“Did you know Michael was here?”

Anthony was still moving across the room, Francesca still beside him. “What?”

“Can you believe it?” Francesca said, her bottom lip sticking out as she shook her head in disbelief. More emotions were running across Francesca’s face than Anthony had ever seen in his life. “Ben invited him. John didn’t even know! Apparently he’s Ben's new protégé.”

“Fran, can you hold on a second?” Anthony said, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair, pulling at it. “I’m sorry. I-I need to find Kate. I have to find Kate.”

“Anthony,” Francesca said, her face flooding with concern as she steadied Anthony’s balance with her two hands on his arms. “What is going on? What happened?”

“Anthony.” Benedict had arrived, with Sophie beside him, an anxious look across his face.

“Piss off Ben,” Francesca snapped, her anger at her brother not fading in the slightest as she turned back to Anthony. “Anthony? What happened?”

“He’s asked to intern with me this summer! What was I meant to say Fran? I didn’t realize there was something going on between you-“

“There is nothing going on between us! I’m with John!” Francesca hissed, her anger momentarily shocking the two Bridgertons and Sophie. Francesca had always been calm, cool and collected. That wasn’t what was happening tonight. “I don’t need any relationship advice from someone who snuck around for over a year. Get off your pedestal.”

“It seems like Benedict can’t keep his nose out of anything.” Anthony spat out his brother’s name and didn’t care for Ben’s slight flinch. He needed someone else to blame.

He needed to find Kate.

“Someone had to do something!” Sophie snapped, her eyes completely on Anthony. “We’ve all watched this go on for years and it’s exhausting. Where’s Kate, Anthony?”

“What happened with Kate?” Francesca asked again, her eyes solely on Anthony.

“I was going to find her-“ Anthony said helplessly, his chest tightening which was making it hard to breathe. He had messed it up phenomenally. She was never going to forgive him. “It’s bad. We had a fight. A bad one.”

The meaning of his words seemed to translate as Sophie’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open slightly as she hastily turned to look around the room.

“I think you’ve done enough.” Sophie snapped, Anthony, Francesca and Benedict’s eyes were wide as they watched Sophie storm away in search of Kate.

“Ant-“

“It’s fine, Ben. I’m sorry I ruined your night. I have to go,” Anthony said, “This is my mess. I’ll fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix it alone.”

“I have to fix it with Kate.” Anthony said, charging through the rest of the crowd and searching everywhere for Kate. Benedict, Colin and Francesca were on his tail, trying to convince him to come inside and sit down and talk to them. He couldn’t. He tried her phone a million times that night but she didn’t pick up. He had to fix this.

Eventually, it was confirmed by Sophie that Kate had left the gallery. She had refused to let Sophie into her flat and that was as much as Anthony was told.

Kate was gone.

Anthony woke up with an excruciating headache and aching limbs. He grumbled as he sat up, feeling a hard exterior under him. He was sleeping in his old childhood bed.

The last time he had slept in this bed was the day before he had left university. The day before he met Kate and his life changed forever. He hated saying it, but it was true. His life had completely changed the minute he met and argued with Kate Sheffield and now-

Now he could have lost her forever.

“You’re up.”

Anthony jumped slightly as he saw Benedict and Colin standing at the foot of his bed, “Were you two watching me sleep? That’s creepy.”

“We were making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit,” Benedict said carefully, a stern expression on his face but he cowered slightly as Anthony looked at him. Benedict had certainly meddled last night. “You drank a lot after Kate left.” “I’d be impressed with how much you drank if it wasn’t because of such tragic circumstances,” Colin joked, failing to lighten the mood with a joke. “I made you some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Anthony said sourly, nodding at Colin but not appreciating the reminder of what a terrible person Anthony was. Kate had gone and he couldn’t cope, so he drank until he passed out.

Why did he open his stupid mouth and tell her about the kiss? Why didn’t he tell her he loved her back? Why did he try to explain to her why they would never work? It was the everything he had been telling himself again and again and when he had said the words out last night, they were meaningless and stupid. The only thing they had achieved was destroying them both.

What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t get the look of anguish on her face out of his head.

He had done the one thing he had sworn he would never do.

He had hurt her.

“I’m sorry about the gallery, Ben.” Anthony said, shaking his head in shame.

“I’m not,” Benedict said, shrugging as he leaned against the wall. “We sold all of my pieces. I knew what I was doing when I put that piece up there. I’m sorry, Anthony. I really am. I never wanted it to cause all this.”

“You didn’t cause any of this,” Anthony said, shaking his head and letting out a deep sigh. “I did.”

“No, he definitely caused this,” Colin said, completely ignoring Benedict’s glare. “That was a dick move. Ant and Kate were always going to come to blows and have it out but you just threw the toaster into the bathtub with that stunt.”

“Anthony got involved with my love life!” Benedict exclaimed, turning around to glare at his younger brother. “I wanted to help-”

“That’s because Ant is relatively okay at sorting out everyone else’s love life and is absolutely shocking at sorting out his own,” Colin said, shooting Anthony a cheeky grin who just glared back. “Tell us what happened.”

“I was furious about the picture.” Anthony said slowly, not wanting to relive the events of last night ever again. He would have to, everytime he told this story and when he saw Kate again. If he saw her again. She had never responded to any of his calls or messages last night and he hadn’t tried again this morning.

He didn’t want to hurt her further by harassing her.

Anthony needed to see her and speak to her.

“I was acting really unfairly. We started arguing. I said some things. Kate said some things. I said something really stupid,” Anthony said, letting out a deep breath before he continued. “Kate told me she was in love with me. I didn’t say it back. I told her I remembered that kiss I had pretended to forget on my birthday last year. She told me she never wanted to speak to me again.”

“That,” Colin was the first one to speak, “That is a lot worse than I imagined.”

“Helpful Colin,” Benedict said dryly, sitting down on the bed beside Anthony and patting his shoulder. “You messed up. Yes. Kate is hurt. She’ll forgive you. You’re Kate and Anthony. You can fix this.”

“I don’t know, Ben. I’ve never seen that look on her face before. She won’t speak to me,” Anthony said, falling back onto the bed and feeling utterly hopeless. “She’s never going to forgive me. I don’t know what to say.”

Benedict bit his lip, nodding his head. “Ant, you’ve never been able to talk to us the way you’ve been able to talk to Kate.”

“The one person you can talk to won’t talk to you.” Colin said slowly, as if he was putting something together in his head.

Anthony and Benedict both turned towards Colin and raised an eyebrow.

Colin’s face lit up, as if he had just won the lottery. He grinned widely at his two brothers, who looked at him suspiciously. “I have an idea.”

Colin’s brilliant idea was therapy.

Apparently, Colin had a heart to heart with Penelope Fetherington the morning after their argument. Penelope and Eloise were studying together for the day at their house and Eloise had left Penelope in the kitchen with Colin whilst she went off for a shower.

Eloise had not been talking to Colin after the argument, which led to his and Penelope’s strange but heartfelt conversation.

Penelope recommended Colin go to therapy.

That’s how Anthony ended up taking Colin’s therapy appointment at 10am that Saturday morning.

“Why are you here today, Anthony?”

Anthony hadn’t been to therapy since university. It wasn’t for this reason. He had been stressed, having bad panic attacks and feeling overwhelmed by everything. He was back again, for similar but different reasons.

“My brothers thought it would be good if I spoke to someone.” Anthony answered honestly, not feeling entirely comfortable to open up to a complete stranger whose office he had walked into two minutes ago.

“Do you think you need to be here?” His therapist asked, scribbling something down in her notebook.

“I suppose so. No. Yes, I do. I do think so,” Anthony said, scrambling over his words before he sat up straighter in his seat. “I do. It’s what Kate would tell me to do.”

“Who is Kate?”

“Kate is my best friend,” Anthony said instinctively, the meaning of the words hitting him a few seconds later. “Well.”

“Well?”

“It’s complicated.”

His therapist looked straight at him, giving him a friendly but stern smile. “I’m trained in complicated.”

“We’re not currently speaking,” Anthony said slowly, deciding to just let it all out. This is what therapy was for, right? He could be honest for once in my life. “It’s all my fault.”

“How long has it been?” His therapist asked, glancing at the round clock on her wall.

“About 12 hours?”

“Okay.”

“That’s really strange for us,” Anthony hastily explained, quickly feeling embarrassed about the situation and if he was appearing overdramatic. “We talk all the time. We lived together up until last week.

His therapist continued to write down a few sentences, the scraping of the pen against her paper making Anthony’s skin itch. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was a bad argument,” Anthony began, the memories of last night filling him with a heavy dread. “My brother had put a picture of us, multiple pictures of us, on display in a gallery. I panicked and I reacted badly. We both said hurtful things. The worst we’ve ever had. She told me she was in love with me. I told her I remembered our kiss I pretended to forget over a year ago. It ended with her telling me she never wanted to see me again.”

“Do you love her back?”

The question caught Anthony completely off guard. This was the most honest he had been in a very long time and his therapist was brushing over a lot of details, focusing on particular ones. “No, I do.”

“But you didn’t tell her that?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” His therapist said, nodding her head as she continued to scribble down a few sentences. “That is complicated. Could you tell me about your parents?”

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t face that today. When he had gone to therapy previously, they had sometimes spoken about his parents, mainly his father. Anthony didn’t have the strength. “I don’t want to talk about my father. I need to know what to say to Kate.”

“That’s okay,” She said, nodding her head slowly. “You have every right to not answer this question and I will drop it. Why do you not want to talk about your father?”

“He died when I was eighteen.” Anthony explained, figuring it would come out sooner or later.

“That must have been difficult.”

“It was.” Anthony’s words were caught between his teeth.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have seven,” Anthony answered, cracking his knuckles in his lap. “I’m the eldest.”

“I can imagine that’s a lot of responsibility at the age of eighteen,” She said slowly, as if she was trying to figure something out. “Especially when suffering from such a loss.”

“It is,” Anthony said, avoiding her eyes completely as he looked around the room. He didn’t want to talk about his family. That’s not why he came. “It’s my family. I’d do anything for them.”

“Why do you think you don’t deserve love?”

Anthony gaped at her. “I don’t think that.”

“If you were willing to step up and take responsibility for your family and ensure their happiness,” She said, leaning forward in her chair. “Why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Anthony said, his voice coming out a lot shakier and lower than it had in a long time. “She’s everything to me. Everything. I screw things up. I’ve never been good with relationships. I desperately tried to not screw things up and I did it anyway. I really tried to stop feeling like this. I even went to America to stop feeling like this and try to find someone new. It just always comes back to this and now-now it’s too late.”

“This is terribly cliche, but it’s the truth. It’s never too late and you will never know until you try. Why are you so sure you and Kate will fail? I say you and Kate as there are two of you in this. It seems like you put a lot of pressure on yourself. When it comes to your family and your relationships.” Her words were hitting Anthony forcefully, completely overwhelming him. “You should try giving yourself a chance.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You are standing in your own way. Why is that?”

He was getting really sick of all these questions.

“Kate deserves better.”

His therapist raised her eyebrow slightly, “Isn’t that for Kate to decide?”

Anthony had no response to that.

“Anthony, we have absolutely no control over what could happen in the future. Our fears will still exist in the past, present and future. What we can try to control is now. Good and bad things happen everyday. Nothing also happens everyday. Nothing sounds quite exhausting, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes it is easier to do nothing. Sometimes, we have to take a chance on the good or bad things happening,” She told him, smiling softly at him. “Sometimes, we just need to take that chance.”

Something just clicked.

He had to take that chance.

“I have to go,” Anthony jumped up, running a hand through his hair and slightly waving the other one around. “I have to talk to Kate. If she’ll talk to me, I’ll take that chance. Right? Right. Yes. Wow. Okay. Thank you, doctor. Thank you-”

“I’ll have my assistant book you in for an appointment next week,” His therapist responded, a slight smile on her face as she stood up to open the door for him. “Good luck, Anthony.”

Colin and Benedict stood up as Anthony walked into the waiting room, curious expressions on their faces.

“I have to tell Kate I’m in love with her.”

Anthony glanced down at his phone, which began buzzing his hand. Edwina’s name flashed on his screen.

Anthony answered the call, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Maybe it was Kate. Maybe she had lost her phone and that’s why she hadn’t been in contact with him last night. “Edwina?”

“Anthony,” Edwina’s shaky voice spoke through the phone, sending cold shivers down Anthony’s spine. “It’s Kate.”

Anthony had burst through the hospital doors, running up stairs and through doors until he found the room Kate was in after multiple directions from nurses, Colin and Benedict hot on his heels.

Edwina had reassured him that Kate was fine. Her brain scans and other injuries had come back completely clear, the worst thing that had happened was her leg had been broken.

He had to see her. He had to see her alive and breathing. He had to make sure she was okay.

“Kate.”

Anthony had never felt so nauseous and anxious in his entire life.

“Are you okay?”

Kate was there, sitting up in her hospital bed with her casted leg elevated in the air. She didn’t appear to have any other injuries, her dark hair was in a bun on the top of her head and she did have some scrapes and bruises along her arms, and a tiny scratch on her cheek.

“That's none of your business.”

That was the response he expected and it hurt just as he expected. He did deserve it.

“Kate was skating in Hyde Park when a cyclist ran into her, and she landed on her leg," Edwina explained carefully, anxiously glancing between Anthony and Kate. Benedict and Colin were behind Anthony, smiling awkwardly at everyone in the room and shooting a relieved expression at Kate. She smiled back at them, at least she wasn't icing them out.

Kate just refused to look at Anthony. “Get out.”

“We’re going to get some coffee in the canteen.” said Mary, beginning to drag an anxious looking Edwina out of the hospital room.

“Don’t you dare,” Kate snapped, raising her voice at her mother and sister. She pointed at the chairs they just vacated. “Anthony is the only one who will be leaving this hospital room.”

What did he expect? She had every right to be furious with him. It wasn't going to be easy and he would do whatever it took to fix this. To fix them. “I’ll wait in the waiting room until you want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

He nodded, making his way towards the doorway he had only come through. He knew Kate and pushing her wasn’t going to achieve anything. He had fucked up and he had to fix it in the way she wanted him to. “I’ll just be waiting then.”

And waited, he did.

He waited for two weeks until Kate was released from the hospital.

He tried everything. He had taken the time off work to be there during visiting hours, waiting for her to finally let him speak to her. He had drafted about fifty different speeches before she was released, thinking about everything he had spoken about with his therapist. He went to two more sessions during Kate’s stay and he felt something was really changing.

Except for Kate’s willingness to speak to him.

When he knocked on her door, she told him to get lost. When he brought her flowers, she threw them at him. When he brought her food, she wouldn’t touch it. She ignored his texts and calls.

She had every right to make him suffer and she was doing a superb job at it.

He spent his time on business calls or chatting with whoever was visiting Kate. Every Bridgerton but Anthony had been allowed in. He got to know her nurses and doctors, getting updates on Kate’s progress and asking them questions about her leg and the healing process.

Mary sat beside Anthony in the waiting room one afternoon, handing him a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“I started worrying less, you know.”

Anthony turns to look at Mary, frowning in confusion.

“Kate is a very good person. She takes care of people. She took care of Edwina and I more than she should have, especially after my husband died.” A sad expression appeared on her face. “My husband always said Kate tried to take care of him when her mother passed away. She was four years old.”

He smiled sadly, taking a small sip of his coffee. “That sounds like Kate.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mary nodded her head, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. “I always wanted that for her. Someone who would take care of her and she would let them. I wasn’t so sure it would ever happen until she brought you home.”

Anthony blinked at Mary, completely taken aback. He had known Mary for eight years now and they had spent a good bit of time together, but he couldn’t remember ever speaking to her alone. Especially like this.

“I knew she finally had someone to take care of her. You’ve been so good to her.”

“I don’t know if she’ll forgive me this time Mary,” Anthony said, his voice croaky as he hung his head low. “I don’t know if I deserve to be forgiven.”

“Kate didn’t talk to her father and I for two weeks because we didn’t let her go to an Eminem concert when she was twelve years old,” Mary said, chuckling softly at the fond memory. “She will come around.”

“We all make mistakes, Anthony. I don’t know what happened between you two,” Mary said softly, reaching over to squeeze his hands. “I do know you’ll be able to fix yours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Kate,” Edwina said, exhaustion flooding her voice as she pushed Kate’s wheelchair to a stop in front of the exit of the hospital. “Anthony’s car is the only car big enough to bring you home! You’re meant to lie across the back seat.”

Kate was glaring at Anthony with such an intensity, he was genuinely terrified. She was absolutely furious at the prospect of Anthony driving her home. “I’d rather walk.”

“I suppose you should have thought about that before you went skating on those death traps,” Anthony said, deciding that if she wouldn’t talk to him, he might be able to at least get an insult if he winded her up. Then, she would technically have spoken to him. “Hop on in.”

Kate’s mouth dropped open as she watched Anthony open up his back door, which had been filled with blankets and pillows to help Kate get comfortable. She knew she had no choice. The two nurses helped Kate into the backseat, buckling her in as Edwina got into Anthony’s car. Mary was following them home.

Kate, furious about recent events, was sulking in the back seat.

Edwina and Sophie hadn’t been overly kind to Anthony the first week after Kate’s accident. He didn’t blame them, he deserved every single bit of slack he got for what he’d done. They had eased up on him the last week, probably out of pure pity as he desperately tried to fix things with Kate who so far wanted nothing to do with him.

They finished their awkward car ride once Anthony parked in Kate’s flat’s underground car park. Now the fun really began. He would make himself useful in any way he could to help Kate, so Edwina and Mary had asked him to drive her home once he had offered.

“Kate,” Edwina said slowly, clearly nervous about what she was about to say as she opened her sister’s door. “Mum and I aren’t strong enough to get you out of the car.”

“Whose side are you on?” Kate snapped, realizing exactly what was going on. “There’s not a chance in hell-”

“I am on your leg’s side!” Edwina snapped, everyone’s eyes widening as Edwina’s temper flared. It was a rare sight. “I am losing the will to live here, Kate. Just let Anthony carry you upstairs and you can do whatever you want. Throw anything you want at him for all I care. Just get upstairs.”

Anthony leaned into the back seat, carefully moving Kate and her leg towards the edge of the seat. They were so close, his arms wrapped around her. If he looked at her, he could count the freckles sprawled across her nose and cheek and how many eyelashes she had. He had done it a million times before.

Except he couldn’t.

Kate refused to look at him.

He got her out of the car until she could support herself on her crutches, making her way towards the lifts. Anthony, Edwina and Mary brought all of her bags upstairs to her flat. Anthony had stocked her fridge and cupboards with all her favourite things and had gotten it professionally cleaned yesterday. He also had about five bouquets of tulips in each room.

“Simon dropped in some food from his restaurant,” Edwina said, smiling softly as she began to unpack the bag. “Thank god. I’m starving. Anthony?”

“I’ll go.” Anthony said, shaking his head as he headed towards the door after dropping the last bag on the floor. The hope he had of fixing things with Kate was really starting to diminish. She really despised him.

She wouldn’t even look at him.

Kate waved a crutch in his direction. It was the first time she had spoken to only him directly in over two weeks. “Stop getting me tulips!”

Anthony turned around to look at her, shaking his head simply. “No.”

“We are going to go out for a walk,” Mary suggested loudly, tugging at Edwina who gaped at her mother in disbelief and then glanced back down at the food. The two Sheffields practically ran out of Kate’s flat, bag of food in their hand, and surprisingly weren’t stopped by Kate.

This was his chance.

“How are you?”

Kate’s hard glare hadn’t faded. “Why do you care?”

He visibly softened. “Of course I care.”

“I don’t think you do, actually,” Kate snapped, aggressively fluffing the pillows behind her back where she sat on her grey couch. “I thought you cared until I realized what you had done. I thought you cared until I stood there telling you I loved you and all you did was tell me that you had lied to me and how we would never work. I never expected you to love me back, what did I expect was some-”

“Are you on drugs?”

“Excuse me?” Kate’s voice was almost a shriek.

Anthony had to really stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I can’t say this if you’re in any way inebriated.”

“No,” Kate muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, “I still despise you, so I’m of sound mind.”

“I should have kissed you. That night. When we were at Aubrey Hall. Seven years ago. I should have kissed you in the lake. I should have kissed you at the Law Ball in college. I should have kissed you when we were in Spain. When we were in my dorm. Your dorm. In the morning. In the afternoon. In the evening. There were so many times where I should have kissed you, Kate.”

“You did kiss me,” Kate spat out, tears flooding her eyes that made Anthony’s chest clench. “You kissed me and you pretended that you didn’t remember.”

“I’m an idiot. I’m a fool. There’s no rational explanation for why I did it. I was so scared of losing you, Kate. But I lost you anyway. I’ll never be more sorry for that, Kate.” Anthony took a few tentative steps towards her, crouching down so he was at her eye level. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. Please, just listen to me. I’ll leave you alone afterwards if that’s what you want.”

“I was on my way to yours when Edwina rang me,” Anthony said, trying to remember everything he had wanted to say and had written down so many times. “I was on my way to tell you I was in love with you. I was an asshole, the night of the gallery. A complete asshole. I panicked. I saw everything on that bloody picture that I have wanted and dreamed of for years, and I panicked. I was so scared of losing what we had that I was too scared to take the chance on having something more.”

Kate stared at him with her wide brown eyes, the ones he had missed so bloody much. He had missed everything about her and now he was here and he was trying. He was desperately trying and he had no idea if it would be enough. “What are you trying to say, Anthony?”

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old. I’ve denied it and denied it, because I’m screwed up, and I know you deserve better than me, but it's always been you Kate. It will always be you. I was terrified of screwing things up and losing you because I can’t live without you Kate. I don’t ever want to. You’re my best friend. You’re my person.”

“When I heard you were hurt and there was a chance that I could lose you-I can’t fathom life without you, Kate.” Anthony’s voice broke off as he spoke, his voice choking on air. “I can’t. I don’t want to. All I want is you, Kate. I’ll do anything to prove that to you. I’m all in. If you’ll have me.”

“Why do you get to decide?”

Anthony blinked at her through his watery eyes, hastily wiping them. He had finally said everything he wanted to say and the biggest weight had been taken off his chest. The anxiety of waiting on Kate’s response still clawed at him. “What?”

“Why do you get to decide that I deserve better than you?” Kate asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him.

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly, shaking his head as he leaned against the couch. “It wasn’t that I decided. It was just so obvious to me. You deserve everything, Kate. Everything. That isn’t me. All I can do is try-”

“No.”

His heart stopped in his chest, a rigid stance completely taken over. Was this it? Was Kate ending things forever? Has he lost for her good?

“You should have asked me.”

Anthony couldn’t help the sigh of relief that came out of him. “I know.”

“I’ve always been smarter than you.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head. “That’s debatable.”

“Do you always have to have an answer for everything?” She asked, completely exasperated, but there wasn’t any annoyance detected in her tone. It was almost teasing.

“I suppose,” He said slowly, his eyes never moving off hers. “Some things never changed.”

“No,” She said softly, her eyes moving around his face. “They really don’t.”

“I should have asked you too,” Kate added a few seconds later, visibly gulping as she pushed some of the loose strands of hair in front of her face behind her ears.

“I’m still so mad at you,” She murmured, blinking away a few tears that rolled down her red cheeks. “I’m so mad. I’m not going to suddenly stop being mad because you’re in love with me and I’m in love with you. We’re going to have to work at this. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“I deserve it.” He nodded in agreement, not being able to stop the small smile breaking out on his face as she said she loved him. “I know. I’ll do anything, Kate. Anything.”

She loved him.

She loved him.

Kate was in love with him.

“Hold my hand.” She murmured, extending her fingers towards him. Their fingers interlock smoothly, her soft, petite palm and his large, rougher hand against each other.

“If you had asked me,” Kate said, her voice coming out wobbly as she spoke. “I would have told you that you’re it for me. It’s always been you. From the moment I met you, it was always going to be you. I didn’t stand a chance. It’s not about deserving, Anthony. It’s about being there for someone no matter what. You’ve always been there for me. And I always want you to be.”

Their faces were extremely close now. He could smell her again, that soft scene of lilies and soap that he had missed so much. He could count the freckles on her cheek and her long, delicate eyelashes. His lips are “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Us,” Kate corrected him, her breathing small and shallow. “It only took us eight years.”

“This isn’t how I imagined it.”

“I’m so tired of imagining, aren’t you?”

He kisses her.

It’s better than he’s ever imagined it.

Why?

Because it’s real.

[fandom-puff]

Worry

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader Requested by: anon Prompts: ‘I can’t breathe’ and ‘please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry’ Summary: Arthur learns the hard way that it’s all getting a bit too much for you  AN: Okay, you know how i said I couldn’t bring myself to write an angsty Arthur fic… yeahhh, that’s gone straight out of the window with this one...

Warnings: swearing, description of physical symptoms of anxiety, mentions of typical peaky injury

It was all getting too much. 

For the fifth night that week, you were pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, jumping at every slight noise; the window panes rattled an hour previously and you had almost put a bullet through them thinking it was an intruder. 

You just didn’t feel safe in your house anymore. 

When you had first moved into the small cottage after your marriage to Arthur, it had brimmed with warmth and light. There was always something sweet in the oven or something hearty on the stove. But now the pans were dusty, the fireplace crackled with almost burnt-out logs- there was no point in wasting wood on one person. 

Sitting down on the couch, you tried to pick up your knitting, but your hands were shaking badly and the stitches ended up wonky. You glared at the clock, whose ticking seemed to get louder and louder by the minute, taunting you. 

Casting your knitting aside, you plucked Arthur’s coat from the hook, wrapping it around yourself, giving into your anxiety as you curled up on the couch, trying to calm yourself with the scent of cigarette smoke and his aftershave, tears falling from your eyes as tears soaked your cheeks. 

The door banged open and you let out a sob, drawing the coat closer to you. 

“YN?” Arthur’s voice reached the sitting room. He stumbled through the door, grinning like a madman, hair dishevelled. His smile quickly fell when he saw you on the couch. “YN, Girl, what’s up? Why’re you crying? Please don’t cry, love, I can’t stand to see you cry,”

You looked up, breathing unevenly, your hands shaking. “Where the fuck have you been?” You managed to hiss, brows drawing into a deep frown. “If you say the pub, Arthur Shelby, so help me god,”

Arthur stared at the floor, wringing his hands. “It was only for a few drinks, Darling,”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me!” You said, rising to your feet. “It’s gone two in the morning and I’ve been sat here since eleven scared shitless! You said you’d be back at ten tonight, after all this business you and Tommy have been on, fixing races and having tea with Russians! Or did you forget stumbling into bed and soaking the pillows with blood? It’s a bloody good job you didn’t break your nose, because Polly’s busy and I haven’t a clue how to set broken bones!” Arthur opened his mouth to protest but you were in full swing. “I’m your wife, Arthur. I love you with all my heart, but I’m getting fed up of panicking every night, wondering if you’ll make it back safe, or if you’ll be bleeding out in a gutter,”

You crumbled, fresh waves of tears spilling over as you ended your rant, sobbing as you spoke about what had been on your mind for weeks.

Arthur gathered you in his arms, and although you struggled at first, you collapsed into his wiry chest, letting him rub and pat your back, allowing yourself to be walked to the couch to sit on his lap as he murmured comfort in your ear, his moustache tickling ever so slightly.

“You’re too good to me, YN,” he mumbled after a while, pressing you to his chest. “And you’re right, love. I need to be showing you as much care as you show me, because you’re the best bloody thing in my life,”

You smiled up at him, still teary, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Jesus, Arthur, can’t breathe,” you gasped as he squeezed you to him.

“Sorry, Yn,” he mumbled bashfully, and you settled into one another (without suffocating) rubbing each other’s back until you dozed off, right there on the couch.

Tags: @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @peakyswritings @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal @anyataylcrjoys @hiddensapphic @rabeccablake @halepea @eleven-times-lively @simonsbluee @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @Awessomness @peakyxtommy @weasleytwins-41 @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @closocool @shadesofbarryallen @beth-winchester21 @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @little-bit-of-randomness @liliputbahn @ccosmic-illusion

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[link4eva]

Kiro’s Rhythm Date Translation [CN]

Hey, y’all! A quick note before you begin reading, I do not know any Chinese at all so Google Translate is the real MVP here. I’ve just taken the time to write down what comes out and changed some words here and there to try and make it make more sense. So apologies for the amateur translation in advance lol. This is just mainly to get the gist of the date before it eventually releases on the ENG server. Hope you enjoy it!

*Spoilers ahead for future content!*

[First Part]

After typing the last word of the report, I hit the enter key hard with my hand and then let out a cry of joy from my heart.

MC: It’s finally done!!!!!

Kiro: You’re finally done!!!!

Almost at the same time, Kiro, who was sitting on the sofa, took off his headset and threw it aside, raising his hands and cheering along with me. The next moment, his twinkling eyes looked at me.

Kiro: MC, let’s go out on a date! I thought for sure that this weekend would be spent working, but it seems that God still cares for us!

He didn’t wait for me to answer, he had already taken a few steps and sat across from me, holding the back of the chair and looking at me expectantly.

Kiro: Let’s go to the cake place that just opened up recently, I want to try it.

He held up his fingers and began to count the deliciousness of his thoughts. I cleared my throat and interrupted his daydream mercilessly.

MC: That’s it! The sunny weather is so nice, shouldn’t we go out and exercise? Savin asked me to supervise you. Recently, you’ve been slacking on your exercise regime to write songs. So... 

Kiro: ...I knew it.

He lowered his head and sighed heavily but the happy smile returned in the next second.

Kiro: Let’s just exercise. Life lies in exercise and to enjoy life is to exercise with Miss Chips!

He told me to wait in a tone of voice I had never heard before and got up to change his clothes. I also went to change into sportswear that I had left at his house when we exercised last time.

Putting on my shoes and standing in the hall, I picked up the baseball cap and put it on Kiro’s head. I helped him straighten his messed up bangs.

He led the way down the hallway, but his toes tapped the ground like a beat as if he couldn’t wait. 

MC: Make sure you don’t get recognized when we’re out later.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I promise to complete the mission!

Kiro obediently agreed. Before leaving the house, he turned his head and waved at Apple Box lying on the sofa.

Kiro: The task of housekeeping is left to you. We are going out!

I don’t know if Apple Box understood initially. To my surprise, he seemed to understand and replied with a “Woof!”.

[Second Part]

The weather outside was just right. The breeze that is blowing is warm on my face, almost as if it’s driving away the fatigue caused by the long days of work.

I followed Kiro and jogged forward aimlessly. From time to time, he slowed down and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me, humming as if he had just written a song.

Kiro: MC, are you tired?

As soon as I met his gaze, he couldn’t wait to inquire again and the thoughts in his eyes couldn’t hide.

MC: Although I am a bit tired, I can hold on for a while!

Kiro: Ah, that’s it, but-

He suddenly stopped halfway through his words and a trace of worry flashed across his face. I looked and stopped teasing him for the time being. 

MC: Actually, it’s not impossible to rest for an hour or two.

Hearing these words, his eyes lit up.

Kiro: Then let’s rest for “one or two hours”!

He grabbed my hand and walked happily in one direction. The warmth of his palm matched the warmth of his eyes.

MC: Where are we going?

As soon as I asked, after turning a corner, a familiar street appeared in front of us. Tall and lush trees stood, exquisite old-fashioned buildings scattered. There were bustling young men and women and the smell of honey and coffee permeated the air.

--Isn’t this the street that has been very popular recently?!

I immediately caught on to what he was doing. I was amused but also a little annoyed.

MC: Have you planned the route in advance?

Kiro nodded, showing a natural smile.

Kiro: SInce I’m coming with you, of course. I have to plan every step in advance! There is a shop here where you can pick the toppings to put on a chiffon cake. The most popular one is raspberry.

I don’t know whether it was affected by Kiro’s vivid appearance or by the sweet fragrance in the air, Savin’s image slowly came to mind.

MC: It sounds really delicious!

Kiro: Alright then, let’s go! I have already made a reservation!

In a few seconds, I put aside my worries and joined him among the crowds on the street, enjoying the break.

It was a perfect moment, but all of a sudden, an unexpected guest stopped in front of us.

[Third Part]

Reporter: Excuse me, both of you! We are randomly interviewing attractive couples! Can you answer a few questions? *The translation came out as “high-value” so I’m going to assume it means “attractive”.*

The moment I saw the camera, I was already in front of Kiro, looking at this fashionable, young man with vigilance.

MC: Sorry, we’re busy at the moment. You can interview other people.

Reporter: But other people don’t fit the original intention of our “Feast for the Eyes” program! Only a few minutes of your time! 

Reporter: Huh? Why does this man look a bit like…?

I had a bad feeling and I stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s cuff. The next moment, the reporter slapped his thighs one by one--

Reporter: Yep! It’s Kiro!

His voice isn’t loud but it still draws all the eyes around us.

MC: You’ve got the wrong person! Let me trouble you!

I resolutely denied his claim before everyone could react. I immediately pulled Kiro into the crowd and quickly slipped away.

Kiro: (pouting) Why do we always encounter such things when we go out on dates? 

In addition to the loud voices behind me asking, “Where’s Kiro?”, there is also Kiro silently complaining.

[Cut to Kiro’s house]

After hurriedly “escaping” back home, my highly elevated heartbeat finally began to calm down. 

MC: Safe at last…

Kiro: I didn’t eat anything this time but I burned a lot of calories.

MC: Probably because God is standing on Savin’s side, we can do nothing but accept it!

Kiro: But I don’t want to accept it…

Kiro plopped on the sofa and hugged Apple Box and looked up at me with a sad pair of eyes.

Kiro: Alas, why can’t he make this world just for the two of us! *I had to change some of the wording here. What came out originally was kinda wonky.*

I looked at my phone and found out that what happened just now did not arouse any attention. I felt secretly relieved. Kiro saw this and looked out the window and saw the sun. He sighed.

Kiro: It’s so rare when the weather is this nice. We finally had some time together… It’s a pity not to do anything.

MC: Then let’s do something we can do at home. Perhaps watching a movie?

Kiro: Movies… Are there any good movies recently?

Although he appeared to be uninterested, he still put his head down and browsed the newly released movies with me.

Before I had a chance to look, a furry head squeezed between the two of us and pushed Kiro aside.

Kiro: Apple Box, don’t make trouble… Wait, what are you biting?! Ahh! Let go of my game controller!

Kiro swooped forward and Apple Box dodged swiftly. In the hot pursuit of Kiro chasing Apple Box, he accidentally bumped into some things. 

The screen that had just stopped at the movie interface suddenly switched and several dynamic virtual characters appeared. As if drawn to this, Apple Box blinked his beady eyes and looked straight at the TV screen.

Kiro quickly grabbed the other half of the game controller from Apple Box’s mouth and clicked it angrily. Little brains.*I don’t know what “little brains” is haha.*

Kiro: I finally caught you, bad guy!

Apple Box, whose “toy” was suddenly taken away, looked at Kiro innocently. He wiggled his ears aggrievedly. I was softened by his eyes and I reached out to rub his head.

MC: Apple Box, you must be a good boy and not be so rowdy.

Apple Box: Woof!

As if he understood, Apple Box shook his head obediently and his fluffy fur rubbed against the palm of my hand. He then turned around excitedly and wagged his tail at the TV screen.

Kiro and I looked at the dazzling picture on the screen at the same time. The characters on it also writhed in time.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let’s play a motion sensory game!

MC: Why don’t we play this? Sports and leisure combined are great!

Talking in unison, we both laughed out loud. After deciding what to do, Kiro and I sat down on the carpet in front of the TV, choosing a game that we could play for a while. He put his head on my shoulder, expressing his opinions from time to time.

Kiro: I think this game is good! It’s fun!

Kiro’s breathing on my neck was ticklish and I shrank my neck. I watched the screen being manipulated to jump up and down to escape. The character retreated into himself.

MC: This feels too difficult. Let’s look at the next one.

Kiro: It’s not that bad! I set a world record in only one attempt!

He raised the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his expression extremely proud. Although he knew that as KEY, he was skilled at all aspects in the game.

MC: Well, then this game is not challenging for you…!

As if I had seen myself in the game, I decisively switched to the next interface.

Kiro: Eh? I don’t seem to have played this game before…

I was overjoyed when I heard this and made a decision almost immediately.

MC: Then let’s play “Just Dance”! 

This is a very popular music and dance game recently. Players can choose different dancer characters to play as. Players have to imitate the people on screen and dance in order to win.

Because this game is simple and easy to use and, and has many popular songs, it has been popular all over the world after it’s release.

MC: Now both of us are novices. This is equal ground!

I gave a controller to him, nodded and said in a serious tone. Kiro raised his chin slightly with a smirk.

Kiro: So, MC, do you want to challenge my status as KEY?

MC: I won’t give up easily!

After that, the game begins.

[Fourth Part] 

If I could go back in time by just 10 minutes, I definitely would’ve said something different about the game being “equal grounds”.

MC: What! Jumping wrong again!

The movements the two of us were doing were obviously strange at first. But after a while, we became one with the dance.

MC: Why am I always slow!

Kiro: Don’t worry! Treat this as a novice level and then adapt slowly from there.

MC: Then this newbie level is too difficult for me…

I was bitter. I felt as though my hands and feet were rebelling against me.

Kiro: It’s not difficult as long as you master the basics. For example, this movement here. As long as your hand is raised to this position, you will be guaranteed to pass.

He gestured for me to do the movement that stumped me just now, and I followed suit.

MC: Like this?

Kiro: Almost.

He walked up to me, grabbed my wrist and raised my head, then tilted my head to the other side.

MC: Is this it?

I followed his instructions and turned into ten twisted poses. I found the smile on his face grew wider and wider and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Kiro: Puff hahaha, MC, you are so obedient!

MC: KIRO!

I became annoyed at once. I reached out to try and mess up his hair but he leaned back and dodged me smoothly.

Kiro: I was wrong! I was wrong! I was wrong!

MC: I won’t let you get away!

I kept tickling the sensitive skin on his waist. Kiro dodged from left to right and wrapped me in his arms. He is like a koala. He has me locked firmly in his arms, making it hard for me to move.

Kiro: Haha, so you won’t be able to tickle me!

There was a bit of pride in his laughter and his hot breath after exercising clung to my back, even in my chest. The rhythm of our heartbeats can’t be concealed. My heartbeat somehow increased.

MC: I, I won’t do what I did before again. Let go of me first, or how else can we continue playing the game?

Kiro: Well, alright.

He released his arms, looking reluctant, but turned his attention back to the game again.

Kiro: So this time we will warm up with the easier songs and then challenge each other with the more difficult ones!

I didn’t know what Kiro’s “simple difficulty” meant until the melody of a familiar foreign nursery rhyme played from the speakers. But soon I put the matter of nursery rhymes aside and danced awkwardly with the little dino on screen. 

With the cute and cheerful melody, everything becomes more fun. Compared with the previous song, Kiro danced such an overly cute dance. It was a bit strange.

He stared at the screen earnestly, making movements while humming his own jumbled lyrics to the tune of the music.

Kiro: (singing) I’m a little dinosaur~ little dinosaur~

His blonde hair puffed up by the hairband also jumped along with his movements. A sweat bead from his forehead “ticked” off and fell onto his collarbone hidden by his collar.

MC: Obviously I am the little dinosaur!

The “perfect” floating above the screen made my previously annoyed mood become more excited. The magic of the game is to make people forget all their troubles. When I’m with Kiro, these simple dances turn into the simplest happiness.

After the song ended, I watched the rating jump up to four stars. I couldn’t help but hug Kiro and cheer.

MC: Ahh, it’s four stars! Only a little bit short away from getting full stars!!

Kiro: See, that wasn’t so hard for you, was it?

MC: Sure enough, it’s not difficult to master the trick you taught me!

I confidently picked the next song to “conquer” but suddenly saw a familiar name.

MC: Huh, there is this song?

It was a song from Kiro’s latest album. I quickly turned to look at him. However, Kiro frowned slightly while staring at his song, his expression a bit solemn.

Kiro: This song was licensed to them. But I feel that it’s a bit awkward to dance to my own songs in the game.

Seeing him acting unlike his usual self, I felt a sense of curiosity. Even though the “highly difficult” sign made me a little worried, I still pressed the confirm button decisively. 

MC: Let’s dance to this song. I want to see if the original dancer can beat the game!

Meeting his gaze, Kiro hesitated for a second and quickly gave in. 

Kiro: If you want to dance, MC, you can, but this dance is very difficult. Don’t force yourself to.

MC: Hmm!

Accompanied by the “START” character flashing, the intermingled sound of the electric guitar and keyboard sounded. Kiro held the controller and imitated the people on the screen, raising his hand to make a pose.

Boom--

The powerful drum beats go straight to the heart. Kiro’s face is very serious and every movement that he executes is in rhythm with the music and is full of power.

He stepped barefoot on the carpet, clearly wearing ordinary sportswear, but he seemed to be standing in the centre of the stage.

And in this small living room, me being the only audience, got to “exclusively” enjoy this performance. I don’t know if I should watch him wholeheartedly or if I should continue to clumsily dance with the animation.

While I was lost in thought, I accidentally tripped over my left foot with my right. Seeing that the hand that was swung out was about to hit Kiro, I withdrew it quickly. 

I was hit with an elbow

MC: Ouch!

I squatted down, clutching the area I was hit, and buried my head between my knees.

Kiro: MC? What happened?!

He squatted down worriedly in front of me with his arms open. It looked like he wanted to hug me to comfort me but was worried that it would be bad so he stopped midway.

Kiro: What’s wrong? Is your leg cramping?

MC: Just now, I…

I shook my head, thinking of the silly thing I did just now. My ears and face were beet red. Before I had time to explain, Kiro put one hand behind my back and one hand under my knees and lifted me up.

MC: Wait! I can walk by myself!

He denied my protests and placed me gently on the sofa in a few large strides. He slowly lifted up one of my feet and carefully pressed the tight muscles of my calf with the pad of his finger.

Kiro: Does it hurt? Tell me if it hurts.

I forgot to respond. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, he slowed his movements down again and became more gentle. The sunset shining from the outside hit the top of his head forming a very gentle glow. It gave me the urge to rub it.

MC: Kiro, I’m fine. I didn’t hurt myself by forcing myself... I was just watching you…

The more I talked, the quieter I became. The temperature of my cheeks rose. After all, it would be too embarrassing to explain that I hit myself while dancing!

It was silent for a few seconds and Kiro finally laughed out loud.

Kiro: I didn’t expect my Miss Chips to be so honest. Now, just look at me.

Kiro raised his hand in a squatting position, and I found myself looking into his gentle blue eyes. When the music hit it’s climax, the drum beat gradually grew faster and got closely intertwined into an airtight net as if the soul is enveloped in it. *Wording was a little weird here. I think it’s supposed to be a heartbeat but the kanji for heart (心) isn’t in the original text.* 

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Like my heartbeat right now, it's so strong that it’s about to beat out of my chest. Kiro seemed to see right through me and stood up. He supported the back of the sofa with one hand and held my wrist with the other to prevent me from escaping. When his nose came up to meet mine, he rubbed it.

Kiro: MC, I’m curious…

Looking at my bewildered and embarrassed face, he suddenly gave a sly smile.

Kiro: Is the rhythm of your heartbeat the same as mine right now?

His eyes were full of warmth and gentleness. His words were like a poet writing lyrics, a sorcerer chanting a bewitching spell. 

Kiro: It is the same as mine. Everytime it beats. It only beats for you.

The breath that belonged to him slowly approached, the music continued playing in the background, and the game on screen kept showing “miss”.

The rhythm of our heartbeats has already been in sync with the beat and sweat. *This last part here was a little wonky with the wording*.

[END]

(Here is the link to his "Strawberry Invitation" call after the date!)

[secretshinigami]

routine and soft eyes

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: nearmellomatt, mention of lawlight Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of Mello’s scar  Prompt: Wammy House kids sleepover (A, B, L can be included, can be AU) Author’s notes: I had so much fun with this !!! soft bois…. thank you to anyone who reads it !!

Mello is positively fuming. Someone (who shall not be named, though if you want to know it starts with “N” and ends with “-ate River”) just got on top of Forensic Science and Investigative Skills and History of Crime and the Justice System. Those are Mello’s topics. They’re the best at these and they always have been (in the two years they’ve studied here. But that’s long enough, right ?), so the fact that Mister Nobody just came in and stole their turf… That’s infuriating. To top it all off, the dean did them dirty and assigned someone to the second bed in their room, knowing full well that they need that second bed for Matt. This week is just a pile of flaming shit.

As they swing the door open they are greeted by the beeping sounds usually coming from Matt’s bed, a comforting electronic melody. Matt doesn’t even turn around to raise his middle finger to protest against how loud Mello is, but that’s also common practice around here, so no worries. 

“Heard you got your ass beat,” Matt says a while later, Mello’s hand carding through his strawberry-green hair. “By the newbie no less. How’re you taking it ?”

“Matt, my hand is dangerously close to your eyes and you need those to play on that stupid console. Better not risk it.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me,” Matt grumbles, and the certainty with which he speaks makes their heart pulse just a little faster. Mello is hopelessly in love, aren’t they ?

The rest of the evening is quiet save for that same musical background, a welcome white noise as Mello finishes their essay for Writing Comedy. The teacher seems to have some trouble with their rather macabre humour so they try to tone it down for once - rather unsuccessfully.

“Also heard you’ll have a roommate,” Matt continues a few hours later as they prepare for bed - gotta put some moisturiser on that scar like a damsel doing her skincare routine, the doctor said, “or you’ll experience how actually painful it can be”. Talk about being threatening…

“I heard. I can kick them out.” Mello would do it. Without remorse, even.

“I can sleep in your bed too,” Matt offers. “But only if you promise not to kick me out from under the covers every single night.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, and secondly, why the hell would I want someone else to room with me ? You’re already here. You’ve always been here.”

“And I always will be, Mels. Just… I think it’s time you get out of your shell a little bit, you know ? You can’t keep pretending that talking to me twice every day and ignoring Linda a couple times a week is enough friendly interaction for the little pea inside your coconut.” Mello turns away from the mirror, moisturiser in hand, and sends a glare to Matt who sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try ! Think about it, okay, Mello ?”

They do think about it. The whole night. They don’t sleep - it’s not because Matt snores but that’s the excuse they’ll use. Ever since the accident and the scar, people have usually been too impressed - or scared - by them to even consider starting a casual conversation. Matt was there even before, and he probably always will be, Linda is a weirdo who wants to draw them with a ponytail, and… Well, that’s it. Mello lives for schoolwork, to be the best and hope to right some of the wrongs in this world.

“Yo, Mihael,” the dean says when he sees them in front of his office the following morning. Lawliet is a TA at their university, still haunting the dorms. He has a creepy smile under his stupid raccoon eyes and he keeps using Mello’s birthname, like it makes any more sense to call them with that than to call them “xXx_sexy_blondie_xXx”, or however you pronounce that out loud.

“Lawliet. I saw you assigned me a roommate.”

“I did,” he smiles still, like there’s a joke Mello doesn’t get.

“Why ?” Mello would actually like to know - Lawliet never does anything at random.

“You’ll see when he arrives later today,” is the cryptic answer, and Mello sneers at their stupid fucking dean as they leave for their 8am lecture.

Because yes, multiple things are out to get their skin - though they won’t be deterred.

The day goes by in a flash, Screenwriting and Poetry being two of their most interesting classes, and by the time they’ve finished their Crime Prevision and Prevention homework at the library, the sun is well on its way down. Mello walks slowly to the dorms, enjoying the warm air - it’s still only September and winter hasn’t come yet. The music blasting from their headphones is a perfect background to the chill atmosphere, a few bird silhouettes dark against the wonderfully peach clouds. In a few minutes they’ll kiss Matt and they’ll eat a bite, and they’ll sleep knowing they’re safe now.

When they arrive in front of their room, a few cardboard boxes occupy the entrance. Shit fuck hell, they’d forgotten the roommate arrived today. All they can see from where they’re blocked from entering is a white blob of hair on top of baggy clothes, perched on the desk and looking at whatever Matt is playing.

“Uh, I’m supposed to be able to enter my own room,” Mello kind of yells. Only kind of. “Would you please not be a giant stupid bother before I even get your name ?”

“Sorry,” the snowball says, not looking sorry at all. “I’m Nate River.”

“But you can call him Near ! He plays retro games, which isn’t… let’s say it’s not my strong point, but I’m sure it’ll go well, we’re three whole weirdos with weirdo nicknames !”

Mello blinks. Near is still here. They blink again. Near is still here, looking a little like a frog with his lopsided smile, a hand playing with one of his curls. Mello blinks a third time and doesn’t expect Near to have packed his things and go, but that was a close call.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” they mutter. “Lawliet is gonna get killed.”

“You actually know enough about criminology to not be caught, so go you.” Near is smirking. Mello wants to cry. “But I would advise against it, because he’s dating that twink Light Yagami, the alumni who came last week to give the presentation about the War on Drugs and its consequences. He’s a police lieutenant now.”

“Called it !” Matt raises a fist in victory, taking five years from Mello’s lifespan. “Anyway, now that you’re here, please do help us with the last boxes. We’ve been setting up Near’s compy and it’s revoltingly difficult.”

“I will not- how can you ask me to- I’m gonna commit arson and this time I promise I’ll succeed !”

“Dramatic bitch,” Matt says jovially. “Just come in and drop your stuff, apparently someone from the ADA thing comes tomorrow to make sure the room is accessible with a crutch and to help Near settle in.”

Mello just now notices that Near isn’t fully standing up - he’s propped on the desk, a mechanical knee peeking through the bottom of his shorts. This changes nothing - though Mello feels the both grim and hopeful sense of community that disabled people get when they meet. Their ear still works wonky and their eye ? Not the sharpest either. Without talking about all the skin damage, the phantom pain, the- hell no, they won’t get into “reflective mode” without having eaten dinner first.

Reluctantly, Mello spends the rest of the evening avoiding Near as Matt and them help him settle in, surprised by the small amount of belongings he actually has - most of the boxes he brought are board games and hundreds of little kapla sticks. Is Near planning to recreate the Golden Bridge ? He looks like a nerd, maybe it’ll be the Death Star.

Routines are a persistent thing, and before they know it, Near has managed to get a small space - small, they insist - in Mello’s well-oiled machinery. He eats breakfast with Matt, a meal that Mello forgoes entirely, and he goes on unfortunate walks to his PT appointments, because he’s out of money from whatever government organism gives benefits to disabled people and can’t afford a cab. Mello thinks they should get into it a little more, maybe call their case worker, because ramen tastes worse and worse when you have it for every meal of the week. And then Near and Matt start talking about something or another, especially topics that annoy Mello, or Near gets a little too close to them while they both work on their assignments at their desk, his elbow barely brushing Mello’s side. It makes them shiver, but they will ignore that, thank you very much.

Another routine - bedtime - has gotten a little different. One single bed is enough for “one person and a half”, according to Matt, so the obvious solution to them being three in a two single beds room is to push the beds together.

“And now you have a perfect three people beddery !” Matt triumphantly declared. “Mello, you sleep in the middle.”

“Why am I in the middle ?” they protested. “It’s the least comfortable !”

“Oh well, we can take turns,” Near had snarked, knowing full well that the first one of them to sleep in the middle would have to accept defeat.

Mello does end up in the middle, Matt cuddled against their left side where the burn is, and Near an ever-closer presence against their right arm. It’s not as uncomfortable as they expected. Near doesn’t snore and he smells like minty toothpaste, a strangely comforting scent that lulls Mello to sleep way more easily than the five thousand melatonin pills they take before going to bed.

Oh well, maybe Lawliet can live a little longer. His boyfriend - Matt saw them kissing through the peephole, it’s official now - won’t have any (more) reasons to put Mello behind bars.

Near gets on top of International Law and keeps wearing strangely baggy clothes everywhere - or well, everywhere but in the dorms. Mello has time to get used to that mechanical knee, even asking a few questions about phantom pains on the days Matt is away and the itching gets unmanageable. Near is quiet like snow but they’re nothing alike in warmth, grey eyes like molten metal setting on Mello’s face and crinkling in a smile.

And it works wonders. One time they get a bad mark (for their standards) and they even study with Near for extra credit, a presentation about the death penalty that lasts about three quarters of the two hours class. The teacher gives them both full marks and Matt celebrates by crushing them both against his chest, the smell of motor oil and mint so comforting that Mello closes his eyes, just for a little while.

It’s winter before they have time to think about it, and finals go by in a blur of “no sleep, no food, no distractions”. They even manage to end up at the nurse’s office when they faint during the Criminology Theory exam, forced to drink sugar water until the world stops exploding in a million tiny stars when they move their head.

Mello thinks that surviving their last winter exam session ever - they should be able to find a job with a double Master’s degree in Criminology and Creative writing, right ? - deserves a celebratory nap and they sprawl on the bed as soon as they’re back from the last stupid oral presentation they have to do about stupid Foundations of Criminal Justice. Near is not in the room - which is weird, because he finished five minutes and thirty six seconds before them - and Matt is away for the day to try and get his internship at the garage, so they have the full three-person bed, and they fully intend to enjoy the luxury.

They enjoy it so much that they fall asleep, only noticing that time has passed because before they blinked, it was day, and it is now very much nighttime. Light giggles fill the room along with the muted light from Near’s bedside lamp, and Mello takes the time to relish in the quiet atmosphere. Hushed conversation rises from near the desk, giggles and the smell of hot chocolate both making Mello sit up at last.

“Lookit you ! Sleeping beauty arises. Though I haven’t kissed you yet,” Matt smiles, and he climbs on the bed to press his lips against Mello’s. “Love you,” he whispers as he pulls away and goes back to slump on Near’s shoulder.

At first, Near felt like an intruder each time Matt kissed them, but he’s become so embedded in their life that Mello doesn’t feel any awkwardness anymore - to the point where not including him has become the cause of their inner turmoil.

Because yeah, uh, there’s that. Near in a tank top and booty shorts, prosthetic being painted on by a very enthusiastic Matt, has become the new image they conjure up each time the need to strangle someone arises. And poof, instant peace. Discreet touches, Near sleeping fully cuddled against their right side now, Matt nosing through Near’s hair just after he’s washed it because his strawberry shampoo smells divine, Mello even going as far as ruffling Near’s hair without warning, just to see his little nose scrunch up… All that has become routine too, and suddenly the change is too big to go by unmentioned. 

They’ve managed to hold on to their feelings until then but as Matt starts talking again, Near’s smile is a little too tight - though his eyes sparkle, it’s like… something’s missing. 

“Emergency mee-ee-ting,” they yawn, the skin around their left eye crinkling up painfully. Near notices and doesn’t even ask before grabbing the petroleum jelly tube and throwing it rather inaccurately at their face. See, that’s what they were talking about, Near has just become… there, in the way Matt is there even when he’s asleep in another part of the universe where Mello can only hope to ever go to. “We gotta talk shit out.”

“Are you over your gay crisis yet ?” Matt asks, eyes calm and open, sipping hot chocolate with noisy slurps that Mello doesn’t bother mentioning anymore. His green hair looks more and more red as time passes, which is a strange feat of hair dye conspiracy. “Can we go back to playing ?”

“I haven’t even talked !” Mello protests. “I just really think it’s necessary to mention that…”

They don’t know how to continue that sentence. Near is looking at them with something strangely akin to hope, and Matt still has that infuriating openness about him like he just knows Mello so well he doesn’t need to be told what they feel. 

Near doesn’t, though, and he matters enough to Mello now for them to want to include him in the little bubble as well.

“I just think it’d be cool if we shared the secret chocolate stash with Near,” is what comes out of their mouth.

Well done caporal, please die of shame now.

“Mels, wow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said !” Matt’s voice drips with amusement - devoid of any mean spirit, they should add, because Matt is the one thing Mello knows is good in this world. And well, maybe there’s a second one they’ve stumbled on, and they want Near to know that he means a lot to them too.

“I mean it !” Mello whines. “He’s one of us now. I think we can share.”

“Mello. Please realise that I’ve been flirting with you this entire time,” comes Near’s deadpan answer. “The time I told you I wanted to braid your hair ? The time I made you sleep and finished the presentation alone because you’d gotten the flu and I hate being sneezed on ? The fact that Matt literally sits in my lap half the time, and only half because the other is spent on your lap ?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off with me getting the flu.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” Near looks stubborn, and it’s a good look on him.

When did Mello start to think Near looks good ? “I, uh. I may be slightly romantically obtuse. Has Matt told you the time when-”

“-he kissed you and you thought he wanted to practice smooches for his secret best friend, because of course you wouldn’t be his best friend ?”

Utterly mortified, Mello can feel their cheeks become bright red. “Well, uh. Enough mushiness for tonight. Just pass me the chocolate, Matt, I’m starving.”

Matt giggles and throws a Kinder Egg at their face. Near munches on the leftover shell while Mello assembles the toy, and it’s peaceful - and happy, too, so when Mello raises a hand to their scar they smile still, in spite of their involuntary shiver.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

The Night Comes Down || Brian May x fem!Reader x Roger Taylor

summary || one of the first rules you’d ever made with brian, your friends-with-benefits, eight months ago, was that anyone could back out of the arrangement at any time, for whatever reason, and then everything would go back to normal. back to how it was. and that’s fine. you have no problem with that. you’re fine. you’re so fine. it’s... fine.

rating || no smut, but some implied explicit content. warning: there is a brief scene where reader is being heavily pressured into kissing someone at a party.

word count || 9.7k

author’s notes || all good things must come to an end! so i’ve been working on this series for over a year. how did that even happen?? anyway yes this is the end of the try series. no it’s not a happy ending. i debated back and forth for a long time whether to end the series or not, but it felt too weird not to. and i couldn’t figure out any reasonable ‘happy’ way for it to end. a big big big thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me for this entire journey, or part of this journey, or even if you’re just tuning in now - thank you! and if you’re still somehow invested in this little ’verse after all this time, don’t abandon me just yet 👀 p.s. i think i’ve ironed out most of the timeline issues but don’t look too closely. this series is not my proudest in terms of continuity

masterlist

tag list: @the-huttslayer​ @scorpiogemini @redspecialty​ @supersonicfreddie​ @killer-queen-xo​ @a-night-at-the-0pera​ @rogerscupboard​

     Part of you had known it was inevitable. Another part of you liked to pretend that it wasn’t. But it was.

    It still felt like it had come out of nowhere, though.

    Brian was watching you cautiously, adjusting the grip on his laptop and workbook. “Did you… want to say anything, or…?”

    “Um…” You blinked a couple times, and shook your head. “Uh, no, I’m just… surprised?”

    “I feel like I’ve mentioned her a few times,” Brian said.

    “Once or twice, maybe,” you said. “I didn’t know that you and her…”

    “Yeah.” Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we hooked up, like, two weeks ago, and then again a few nights ago, and we’ve been talking every day, so.”

    “Oh.” It sounded twisted, wonky, but you forced a smile onto your face, wondering why you felt so… uncomfortable hearing about this. “That’s great. And you like her?”

    “Yeah, I really do,” Brian said, and his voice sounded warm, and he had a little smile on his face, and something ugly and strange twisted in your gut. “And I want to take her on an actual date, but obviously, I’d feel a bit weird about it if I still had, y’know. A, uh, side arrangement. But you’re all right?”

    “Of course,” you said brightly. Side arrangement. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? That’s great, Brian, really. I’m – really glad you’ve found someone.”

    “It’s been a while, that’s for sure,” Brian said with a chuckle.

    “Are you going to tell Rog?”

    Brian frowned a little. “Um, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I never had – anything with him. And he’s already met Dani, so.”

    “Oh!” Ah, Christ, that had sounded dreadful, even to your own ears. “Where– Where’d he meet her?”

    “The other day.” Brian gave you a sheepish smile. “The morning after. She ran into him in the kitchen.”

    You pushed a strained laugh out of you. “Oh, right, yeah, great.”

    Brian chuckled as well. “Yeah, it was a little awkward, but what can you do, right?”

    You swallowed, and nodded. Your face hurt from smiling.

    “You’ll love her,” Brian said. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart, and funny, and she’s so pretty. I mean, so pretty. Absolutely beautiful. Completely knocked my socks off when I first saw her. Can’t believe she fancies me.”

    “Great,” you said. You were saying great too much. “She sounds–” Don’t. “–so great.”

    “She is.” Brian beamed. “You’ll have to meet her soon.”

    “I’m sure I will,” you said.

    “Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian said. He sighed happily. “Well, I should head off.”

    “Yeah, course,” you said. “Me too.”

    “I’ll message you,” Brian said. “We can arrange a dinner at the flat or something.”

    “Can’t wait!”

    Brian smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and then said, “All right, see you later.”

    “Bye!” You turned around and hurried away, in the opposite direction you needed to go.

    Hmm. Huh. Right. Okay. So. Brian just. He just.

    You went to the food court and sat down at the first available seat you could find.

    You took out your phone and immediately went to message Veronica.

    Brian just

    Your thumbs paused.

    He just what? He just found someone he wanted to date, and ended his arrangement with you. On paper, not that big of a deal. It was part of the unwritten contract of it all: any person was allowed to end things for whatever reason, and there would be no consequences. A rule you had written yourself, all those months ago.

    Side arrangement. Side piece. Dirty secret. Not as good as the real thing. Not as funny or smart or pretty or wonderful or beautiful as Danielle.

    You froze. Whoa, where had that come from?

    You weren’t jealous. You couldn’t have been jealous. You’d never wanted to date Brian. You still didn’t want to date Brian. You didn’t have a crush on him, and you never had. Brian didn’t break up with you.

    So what the everloving fuck was going on in your head right now?

    You put your phone away. Nope, you couldn’t go crying to Veronica for no damn reason. This had always been bound to happen, and now it had, so you just needed an hour or so to process it, and then things would be fine. You’d go back to normal.

-

    Your idea of ‘normal’ seemed to greatly differ from Brian’s.

     You didn’t hear from him for a week. Whereas before you’d talked every other day, he went almost totally radio silent. Every meme or message you sent was either seen and ignored, or responded to with a vague Haha or a thumbs-up.

    You met up with Roger on your usual catch-up night, but you hadn’t gotten very far into anything before he stopped and said, “You’re not really feeling it, are you?”

    You made a face. “Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” He passed your shirt to you, and he fetched his from the floor and slipped it on. “So… Brian has a date tomorrow night.”

    You frowned. “He does?”

    Roger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t tell you about it?”

    You looked down at your hands. “Um, no. He didn’t. I haven’t heard much from him, actually. After he… ended… things.”

    “Whoa,” Roger said, climbing onto the bed. “Wait, really? With you?”

    You nodded, and suddenly felt your throat close over. But you were not going to fucking cry about it, Jesus Christ. You swallowed it down, and gave Roger a mild look of interest. “Yeah. I didn’t even know he liked Dani, and then I ran into him at uni last week, and he just sort of said, ‘Hey, while I’m here,’ and then that was it. But I didn’t know the date was tomorrow night. He didn’t tell me.”

    “I’m sure he was just distracted,” Roger said. “He gets like that with a girl he likes.” He shook his head. “Damn, he must be serious about her.”

    “Yeah, must be.”

    Roger paused, and then said, “Are you… okay?”

    You shrugged. “Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “I dunno, it’s a pretty big… thing to have ended.”

    “No, I’m fine,” you said lightly, giving him a smile. “We’re still friends. And I’ve still got you, right?”

    “Yeah,” Roger said, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

    “Yeah. So I’m good.” You sighed, willing away all the gross mess of emotions you were feeling. “I’m not really feeling going all the way, but making out sounds good, if you’re down.”

    Luckily, that immediately distracted Roger, and he didn’t ask any further questions. And you poured everything you had into your kisses, hoping it would distract you, too.

-

    You were hoping things would settle down for you, emotionally, over the next two weeks or so.

    But that didn’t happen. Everything grew to be so much worse. Exponentially. You didn’t know whether you hated Brian, or Dani, or hated them as a couple, or if you just hated yourself. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the two of them, and you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Dani. The thought of trying to be friends with her turned your stomach. She wasn’t particularly annoying, and she wasn’t a bad person in any way, but just something about her face and her voice and her fucking presence in your life just infuriated you.

    You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that she looked like a mouse. Or a rat. Small pointy nose, big dark eyes, slight buck teeth. She was curvy, and at least a foot shorter than Brian, although it was hard to tell with the heels and platforms she always wore. Her hair was browny-blonde and long and thick, and she wore it slicked back in a pony, like Ariana Grande. Her ears glittered with delicate piercings. She liked to draw on freckles.

    She was pretty. For a rat.

    You did your best to hide how you felt about her. You thought you should’ve gotten a freaking Oscar for how well you hid it. At least from Brian. On the rare occasion that Dani wasn’t by his side, you let him talk about her, and did your best to seem encouraging.

    There was a part of you – a bigger part than you wanted to admit – that believed they were going to break up soon enough. Then things could go back to normal, and this weird hiccup could be forgotten.

    But they didn’t break up. They stayed together.

    And so you ended up ranting about it all to Veronica. You knew you were really going on about it, and somehow you kept finding things to say about the situation when you knew there was nothing really more to say. Veronica listened, to a degree. But her advice was sensible and responsible and mature and you really didn’t feel like being any of those things. You wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum.

    So you turned to Roger. Thank God for his high sex drive.

    He wasn’t completely clueless. You had an air of desperation about you that you knew he could sense, and knowing that was almost enough to make you draw away from him, too.

    Almost. But he always took such good care of you. It was selfish to keep asking him to meet up, but you felt like you would explode if you didn’t.

    About a month after Brian and Dani had started dating, you and Roger were making out on the couch. It was rough, as sex frequently had been these past few weeks, and Roger’s grip on your waist was bruising as you rocked against him. Things were moments away from moving to the bedroom, when the front door opened unexpectedly.

    You quickly looked up, a deer in headlights, and your stomach dropped.

    “Oh, sorry,” Brian mumbled, ducking his head.

    “No, it’s fine,” you said, and you’d tried to go for nonchalant, but your voice came out too sharp.

    Roger tilted his head back. “Hi.”

    “Hi,” Brian said. You watched as he kicked his shoes off and chucked his keys on the kitchen table.

    “Sorry,” he said again, shooting you a quick glance. “I’ll just, uh…”

    He hurried to his room.

    There you were, looking already thoroughly debauched, on his couch, in Roger’s lap, and Brian had just ducked his head and ran.

    You stared after him, your heart twisting around itself. He hadn’t even… He didn’t…

    Once, he would have taken one look at you and pounced on you. He would’ve begged to kiss you, would’ve torn your clothes off.

    Now, he acted like he’d walked in on Roger having a one-night stand with some girl he’d picked up at a bar. He acted like he’d never even been attracted to you at all.

    Was it really so easy for him to move on? Were you really that forgettable?

    “You all right?” Roger asked, his thumb touching your bottom lip.

    You snapped to look at him. Shit, how much had you let on? “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing important.”

    “You sure?” Roger asked.

    You bit your lip and nodded. “Mm-hm. How about you take me to your room and fuck all those stupid little thoughts out of me?”

    Roger paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but your tongue darted out, lapping at the pad of his thumb, and you kept your eyes on his as you licked his thumb into your mouth. You watched, half excited, half relieved, as his eyes glazed over, his gaze fixated on your lips around his thumb.

     It sickened you to even think about it, but you definitely had a little voice in the back of your head that hoped Brian could hear Roger fucking you.

-

    “We should hang out,” you said to Brian. Just over a month, now. Final exams were breathing down everyone’s necks. It didn’t help your situation. “I feel like I never get to see you anymore. You’re with your girlfriend all the time.”

    You’d run into him at uni. That was almost the only way you got to see him these days. And he no longer hugged you hello or goodbye, just kept a firm, amicable amount of distance between you.

    He didn’t often look you in the eye these days, either. He shifted about whenever you talked, like he wanted to be somewhere else.

    “Mm, yeah, maybe,” he said.

    You swallowed down the hurt. “How about a movie night? Or we could just hang out, just the two of us.”

    “Um.” Brian scratched his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment. Maybe we could do a group thing? That’d be fun. Me and Dani, John and Veronica, you and Rog.”

    You frowned. “Me and Rog?”

    “Yeah.”

    “We’re not together.”

    Brian shrugged. “I just thought– Well, I think it’d be nice. You two suit each other.”

    “We don’t want to be a couple, Brian. What are you on about?”

    “I just think it’d be good for you, that’s all. Being in a relationship is, well, really nice, and I think maybe you and Rog should at least give it a go.”

    You were gobsmacked. You wanted to throw something, yell a stern reminder of, Hey, are you fucking stupid? Do you not remember the past eight months of our lives where you seemed perfectly content to not be in a relationship? Remember how many times the two of us were hounded by our friends about dating? You fucking hypocrite.

    But you didn’t say any of that. There was an unspoken rule that neither of you ever brought up your old arrangement. It was as if it had never existed.

    Most of the time, it seemed like Brian wished it hadn’t. Like it was some embarrassing secret.

    “Well, we don’t want that, so you can mind your own business,” you said. “And where does Freddie fit into your little equation, anyway?”

    Brian shrugged again. “He could bring a date along as well, I don’t know.”

    “We’re not going on a– a quadruple date. Jesus.”

    “Just an idea,” Brian muttered.

    “You can still hang out with friends without your girlfriend, you know.”

    Brian sighed. “Okay. Well.”

    You sighed as well, gathering yourself. You tried again. “What about a party, or something? We haven’t been to a party in forever.”

    Brian hesitated. “Well, one of Dani’s friends is having a party this weekend.”

    Not exactly what you’d meant. “Maybe a little group of us could go?” you suggested. “If Dani’s all right with it? That could be fun.”

    Brian nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he said mildly. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll ask her.”

    “Great,” you said with a smile that you most certainly had to force onto your face. You began making a quick retreat, not waiting for him to formulate an excuse. “Text me, okay?”

    “Yep,” he said, and you could tell he was already forgetting about it completely.

    But, to your surprise, that weekend, you got a text from him. Dani said it’s all right if you and the others want to come along.

    Your lip curled. It hardly sounded like Brian wanted any of you there. great, you replied. pres at yours?

    I’ll actually be having pres at Lachlan’s, Brian sent. He’s one of Dani’s friends. But I’ll send you the details of the party and I’ll see you there.

    But no one else wanted to come.

    “No thanks,” Roger grumbled. “I’ve met some of Dani’s friends. They’re all complete wankers.”

    “But I don’t want to go alone,” you whined.

    “Ask Freddie. He’s always down for a good time.”

-

    I can’t darling, Freddie texted. work early the next day. they said if I turn up hung-over or still drunk one more time they’ll fire me

u don’t have to get that drunk, you replied hopefully. just drink a bit and then go home early

    then what would be the point of going lol?? Freddie sent.

-

    “Sorry,” Veronica said. “Studying.”

    You sulked. “You can’t afford to take a break just for a couple hours?”

    “No. And, honestly, I don’t want to enable whatever thing you’re going through right now. I think getting drunk around Brian would be a bad idea.”

    “I’ll be fine,” you said. “I just want an excuse to hang out as friends, okay? That’s all. It’s not enabling, it’s supporting.”

    Veronica made a sound that told you she disagreed. You huffed and gave up. What did she know, anyway?

-

    “Hey, Dea–”

    “I’m not going to that party tonight,” John cut in smoothly, not even looking up from his textbook.

    “But–”

    “I’d rather sever my own foot.” He glanced up at you, giving you an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. I just can’t stand being around Brian and Dani. They’re insufferable.”

    At least that you could agree with.

-

    everyone else is busy, you texted Brian. You bit your lip, debating whether to ask, but, damn it, fuck it all – can I come to lachlan’s pres and go with u guys?

    It took him two hours to reply. Yeah, sure.

    You felt sick. This was a bad idea.

    It was by far too much trouble for what it was worth to get to Lachlan’s. You were terrified of turning up before Brian and Dani, so you arrived two and a half hours after when you were meant to be there.

    That was better. It was easier to rock up when everyone was already pissed.

    And they were very much pissed. Lachlan answered the door. He was tall and stocky, with brown hair and blue eyes. The sort of guy who looked like he’d played some kind of contact sport in high school, probably football, but now didn’t have a regular training schedule, and so was slowly losing the muscle he’d once had, replacing it with beer and burgers. The sort of guy who’d lose all of his hair by the time he was thirty-five, and get married so he’d have someone to get his beers for him when he was watching the game with the boys. The sort of guy who wanted kids because he liked the thought of telling people he had a couple of boys, rather than actually wanting to be a father.

    Or maybe you were making a snap-judgement.

    You introduced yourself, and he gave you a lopsided, skeezy grin, letting you into his place. “You here all on your own?” he asked.

    Your shoulders tensed. “No,” you said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s. Dani’s new boyfriend.”

    “Oh, yeah, sure, I know that. But you don’t have anyone to bring along with you?”

    “Not tonight,” you said vaguely. “Busy schedules. Finals aren’t too far away, and all that.”

    “Yeah, sick,” Lachlan said, looking you up and down. “Well.” He gestured with his beer to the crowd. “Make yourself at home.” He shot you another grin that made your hands grow clammy. “I’m glad Dani brought you along. Can’t wait to get to know you.”

    You gave him an uneasy smile in return, and frantically looked for Brian and Dani. You found them – Dani was sitting on Brian’s lap, yuck – and fled from Lachlan.

    “Hi,” you said.

    “Oh, hey,” Brian said, and you could tell right off the bat he’d had a bit to drink already. His hand was splayed over Dani’s thigh, holding her to him, and you couldn’t bear to look at it. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

    “I’m just late,” you said. “Hello, Dani.”

    She gave you a polite smile, but didn’t try to engage in conversation.

    Brian didn’t even notice. He squeezed Dani a little bit closer. “Well, you gonna drink?” he said.

    Yes. Yes, you were. You held up your plastic bottle filled with Sprite and too much vodka. “Yep.”

    Brian gave you a thumbs-up.

    Dani turned to him. “Just need to go to the bathroom, baby,” she murmured, tapping his hand.

    “All right, baby,” Brian murmured back, and you only just stopped yourself from making a face. The word baby sounded clunky, uncomfortable coming from Brian. “Be careful.”

    Dani leant in for a kiss, and you turned away, uncapping your bottle and taking a decent swig, grimacing at the burn. 

    Brian didn’t like pet names. You knew he didn’t like pet names. And yet this ‘baby’ thing had sprung out of nowhere, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

    You listened until the sound of Dani’s heels against the floorboards faded before you spoke. “‘Be careful’,” you muttered.

    “What?” Brian said.

    “She’s just walking to the toilet,” you said. “Not like she’s gonna get assaulted on the way.”

    Brian looked mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want her to trip and fall over and hurt herself. She’s a lightweight, and she’s wearing heels. I’m just… trying to be a good boyfriend.”

    You sighed. “Yeah, okay,” you said, not wanting to hear a word of it. You took another hefty swig of your drink. “I think I’ll, um, join the rest of the party.”

    So much for hanging out with Brian. You wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bear it for more than five minutes.

    You knew what it was – you wanted to talk to him how you used to. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Instead you had some weird, watered-down version of the Brian you knew.

    You joined in half-heartedly with a few drinking games, but quickly discovered that you weren’t really in the mood for getting smashed anyway.

    Brian and Dani stayed in their own little corner, giggling and whispering with each other, kissing and cuddling and being generally disgusting.

-

    You didn’t even think they’d bother coming to the actual party. But they did, and the group of fifteen or so people in Lachlan’s sharehouse all staggered along the street for about ten minutes to get to the main event.

    You’d managed to get along well enough with some of the girls, and Lachlan wouldn’t leave you alone, so you had no choice but to socialise. Which was good, in a way, because you lost Dani and Brian as soon as you walked into the party.

    Not that you particularly liked the girls you were talking to. Everyone just had such a weird vibe, like they weren’t sure if they could be bothered to talk to you, but also felt obliged to make you feel welcome. They kept bursting into laughter and you had no idea why, and no one bothered to explain the jokes. But then they complimented your outfit and asked you how your day had been, and they listened with encouraging nods and wide eyes of interest when you answered. Until someone said something that they found more interesting, and then they turned away from you when you were halfway through a sentence. It was off-putting, to say the least; you couldn’t seem to find your footing.

    Lachlan, however, was the icing on the cake. The sour, out-of-date icing on the stale cake. He flirted with you incessantly, either not picking up your clear signals that you weren’t interested, or just ignoring them. The others weren’t helping, either, egging the two of you on. A whole lot of wink-wink-nudge-nudge that you were not enjoying at all.

    You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t know why you didn’t just leave.

    But, for some reason, you stayed. Maybe you hoped that Brian would see your discomfort and come and talk to you – not that you’d seen him for the past hour – or that this strange group of people would want to talk with their friend Dani, and you’d be able to swoop in and catch up with Brian without Dani hanging around awkwardly.

    Whatever it was, it was a stupid reason.

    And then came truth or dare.

    You didn’t want to play, but you were roped into it regardless. There was a rule, you found out, that you were allowed to back out of one truth or dare, and you had to drink if you did so – but only the once, so you had to choose wisely. Someone dared you to show everyone what underwear you were wearing.

    Needless to say, you drank instead.

    You could tell that no one was very impressed with any of the dares or questions you came up with, even though your friendship group loved your questions and dares. This group seemed to like the brainless shit – if it was gross, or sexual, or nasty in any way, they were all over it. Barely anyone chose ‘truth’.

    Then it was Lachlan’s turn, and he turned to you. He grinned, and your stomach sank to the floor. “Dare you to kiss me,” he drawled, and the crowd gasped and ooh’d dramatically.

    You didn’t even hesitate to snatch up your cider, but Lachlan quickly said, “You’ve already drunk, you can’t do it twice.”

    “Well, I’m doing it twice,” you snapped, and took a swig.

    You received jeers and boos for that, and Gina, the girl beside you, took your beer from your hand and said, “You can’t do that!”

    “You gotta kiss me, that’s the rules,” Lachlan said above the sounds of everyone else.

    “I don’t want to,” you said, your voice wavering.

    “You have to,” said Savannah. “You have to, you have to, it’s the rules.”

    “Come on,” said – whatever her fucking name was. “Stop being such a pussy, just get it over with.”

    Lachlan was starting to look a bit pissed off by now. “Fucking hell, just come and kiss me,” he said. “Don’t be a bitch about it.”

    Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to shake. “Jesus – no, all right? I don’t want to,” you snapped.

    The room felt too loud, too stuffy, too overwhelming.

    “Lachlan, just think of something else,” you said.

     “Okay, fine, whatever,” Gina complained. “Just do something else.”

     “No, I gave you a dare already,” Lachlan said sourly. “It’s not even that big of a deal, like, I don’t even know what the problem is.”

     “If she doesn’t want to-”

     “That’s the fucking rules,” Lachlan said, throwing his hands in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. “Is that not the fucking rules? Goddamn.”

     “Okay, then just kiss him already,” said whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was, waving you over. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

     “I’m fucking bored with this shit already,” Savannah said. “Just kiss him or don’t kiss him, whatever. God, this party sucks.”

     “It doesn’t suck, she’s just being a bitch,” Lachlan protested.

     “Don’t call me a bitch,” you said.

     “I’m just teasing,” Lachlan said, crawling over to you. You shrunk away from him, your heart beating like a cantering horse, and he grabbed your wrist. “One kiss, c’mon,” he said, his voice light and friendly, like you were happy to play along.

    But you weren’t happy to play along. You didn’t know if everyone was too drunk to notice your obvious discomfort, or they didn’t care, but this was crossing the goddamn line.

    “Fuck off, Lachlan,” you said, trying to pull your wrist back. You’d wanted your voice to be tough, to be assertive, but it was small and weak, and then Lachlan leant in for a kiss.

    You turned your face away. “Lachlan–”

    “Just fucking kiss me, for God’s sake, woman,” Lachlan growled, and grabbed your face with his other hand.

    You pushed his hand away, and, without thinking, blurted out the one word that your panicked brain told you would stop everything in its tracks: “Nickleback.”

    “What?” Lachlan said, and, good fucking God, of course that wouldn’t work, you were such a fucking idiot, and now you had no back-up plan, nothing else to do, and that word was supposed to stop things, why wasn’t it stopping things–

    But then Lachlan was gone, and you felt a hand grab your other wrist and yank you up from the floor, and you unthinkingly leant into the body the hand belonged to as you were led from the room and into a bedroom, and the noise around you became muffled as the door closed behind you.

    Then Brian was setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you. In an ideal world, he would have wrapped his arms around you and you would’ve been able to breathe again, like in a movie, but instead there was an awkward amount of space between you as he gingerly asked, “Are you all right?”

    You barely even snuck a glance at him. You were humiliated by what had just happened, humiliated by needing him to rescue you, humiliated by your desperate craving for his touch, his comfort. You stared at the floor, curling in on yourself, and you nodded silently. Your hands still shook from adrenaline, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about them. I didn’t know…”

    You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you mumbled.

    Brian said nothing for a while, and then he reached over and patted you on the back. So achingly unfamiliar, and you felt your shoulders grow even more hunched than they already were. You didn’t think he’d ever touched you like that. Like you were a complete stranger.

    You ducked your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

     There was a soft knock on the door, and Brian said, “Yeah?”

    You glanced up to see Dani poke her head in, and you quickly looked away again. “Hey, baby,” she said.

    Your stomach crawled.

    “Is everything okay?”

    “Yeah, it’s fine,” Brian said.

    “All right,” Dani said. You could feel her hovering awkwardly.

    Brian said your name, catching your attention, and then said, “I’ll just… let you have some time to yourself, all right?”

    You said nothing. You did nothing. And Brian stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

    “What happened?” came Dani’s voice from just outside the door.

    “Lachlan was harassing her,” Brian said.

    “They were just playing,” Dani said. “They’re all drunk, it’s just truth or dare.”

    “No, I know, but…”

    “You didn’t have to run in there like there was a fire and pull her out of there like that. Everyone’s going to ask me what that was all about. Where did that come from?”

    Your ears were straining to hear Brian’s response.

    “I… I just knew she needed to get out,” he said eventually.

    “She could have left if she was uncomfortable.”

    “She gets really anxious sometimes, she just freezes.”

    You realised, then, that he must’ve heard you say ‘Nickleback’. He must have heard it and immediately known that something was wrong.

    You groaned quietly to yourself, covering your face with your hands. Your ex-friend-with-benefits had heard you yell out your old safeword in the middle of a party, and had felt obliged to rush in like a knight in shining armour to swoop you to safety. Jesus Christ.

    “She’s an adult, baby,” Dani said. “I’m sure she was fine.” You heard someone sigh. “It’s sweet that you guys are friends, but you don’t have to…”

    “What?”

    “Look out for her that much.”

    “What do you mean? She’s my friend.”

    Dani was silent for a while. “Did you guys used to…?”

    The air was sucked from the room. Your ears strained to hear every word.

    “What?” Brian said, clearly thrown.

    “Did you used to date? It just seems like…”

    “No,” Brian said quickly. “No, we never dated.”

    “You’re not lying to me?”

    “No, baby. I promise you, we never dated.”

    You grimaced.

    Someone sighed again. “Okay,” Dani said. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to be friends with an ex.”

    Brian chuckled. It sounded forced. “Yeah, of course.”

    “I’m glad we agree. Gimme a kissy?”

    You could’ve thrown up right then and there. A kissy?

    You could hear them murmuring to each other, and Dani’s voice had a particular whiny, baby-talk tone to it that made you want to ‘accidentally’ open the door into the both of them. But then they left, and you were even more alone than before, and you lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling sorry for yourself.

    It was time to go home.

-

    By the grace of God himself, Brian offered to wait outside with you, sitting beside you on the kerb, while you called a ride home. Dani stayed inside with her friends.

    “I’m sorry about… what happened,” Brian said, and you went still as a statue.

    “What do you mean?” you said softly.

    “Lachlan, and all of that.”

    You let out a breath. “Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that. It’s fine.”

    Silence. It wriggled under your skin like cockroaches.

    You wanted to touch Brian. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted Roger there, too. You wanted them to want you, like they used to. You wanted to be allowed to want them like they used to love.

    But Roger wasn’t there. And Brian barely was, either.

    “Brian?” Dani called from the front door.

    Brian twisted around. “Yeah, I’m here.”

    “Oh, okay. Just checking everything’s good.”

    “Yeah, we’re fine. Still waiting for the car.”

    “Okay. See you inside.”

    “Yep.”

    “Miss you, baby.”

    Brian chuckled. “Miss you too.”

    You waited until Brian had turned back around to face the road, and then blurted out, “Why do you let her call you that? You hate pet names.”

    Brian frowned, looking to you. “What?”

    “Pet names. You hate them.”

    “I don’t hate them,” he said.

    “You don’t like them, at least.”

    “According to who?”

    “According to you,” you said. “You told me. And you never–” You never called me anything but my name when we were fucking. “You never said you liked them.”

    “Well, I do,” Brian said. “And why do you care, anyway?”

    “I just think it’s weird,” you said, and you were aiming for casual but you knew you sounded brash. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

    “I’ve never had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve known each other,” Brian said. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m in a relationship.”

    “You shouldn’t change who you are when you’re in a relationship,” you said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

    “I’m not changing who I am,” Brian said, his face pinched. “What has gotten into you?”

    “Nothing,” you said harshly. “I just think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t like calling her baby, and you don’t like being called baby, and I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t just say that.”

    “Well, I just think it’s weird you think you have the right to comment on my relationship,” Brian said. “I like calling her baby. And I like it when she calls me baby.”

    “But you don’t,” you insisted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

    “What?” Brian exclaimed. “What the fuck are you on about?”

    “I know you, okay?” you snapped. “I know you far better than she does. And I know you don’t like pet names, but you won’t tell her for some reason.”

    “I won’t tell her because I like them,” Brian said. “And she knows me, too, you know.”

    “She’s known you for, like, two months! Less than!” you said. “That’s nothing.”

    “Why…” Brian floundered. “There isn’t some – time limit on these things. You can’t judge if someone knows someone better just by how long…”

    “I just don’t get it,” you said. “Maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t get how someone can just walk into your life and suddenly they’re the most important person you’ve ever met when you’ve only known them for five minutes.”

    “You’ve clearly never fallen in love,” Brian said snootily.

    “Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed. “You’re not in love with her.”

    “How would you know?”

    “You’ve only been dating a couple weeks! Come on, Brian. You can call each other baby all you like, but I know you.”

    “I like pet names,” Brian said, his voice hard. “I just never called you one because, in case you’ve forgotten, you were never my fucking girlfriend. So, for the love of God, can you stop acting like a jealous ex.”

    It was like a stab to the gut and a twist of the knife all at the same time. All you could do was sit in stunned silence.

    Brian looked at you, almost like he was waiting for a response, and when he never received one, he sighed, stood, and left.

    Your chin wobbled, your vision blurred, and you scrabbled for your phone in your handbag.

-

    Roger opened the door. “Hey–”

    You leapt onto him, kissing him furiously. He stumbled, but kept his balance, one arm curling around your waist and the other groping for the door, pushing it closed. You spun him around and backed him up, pressing him against the door, and ducked your head to suck at his neck, palming at him through his sweatpants.

    Roger jumped. “Oh, God, okay,” he said with a surprised laugh. “You’re really…”

    You nodded, and captured his lips again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I want you so bad,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Daddy, please.”

    You didn’t wait for him to reply, and kissed him. You slipped your hands into his underwear, and he tensed underneath you, surprised again.

    You needed him to fuck you, to bruise you, to bite you. To make you feel wanted, needed. To mark you up, to make you scream, to make it hurt. You needed it so badly that your hands shook.

    Roger put a hand to your collarbones, and you thought he was going to choke you, but instead he pushed you back, just enough to stare into your face.

    “Are you sure you want to call me Daddy?” he asked unsurely. “You seem a little…”

    “What?” you said.

    “Not yourself,” Roger said. “Are you– Have you been drinking?”

    “The fuck does that mean?” you said. “I just really need you to fuck me hard, does that not sound like me?”

    “I don’t–”

    “Roger,” you cut in sharply, and then quickly softened your tone into something whinier, needier, more enticing. “Daddy. I want you. Please.”

    Roger’s frown never disappeared. “I don’t want you to call me Daddy,” he said.

    You blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay,” you said. You could still work with that. “No Daddy.” You went to kiss him again, but he held you away.

    You resisted huffing in frustration. “Roger…”

    “This is about Brian, isn’t it?” he said.

    “What?” you said. “No. Why would it be about Brian? I want you.”

    “You’re drunk and upset and jealous, and you want me to fuck you how he used to fuck you, because you miss it.”

    A slap to the face would’ve hurt less. Your hands fell limp at your sides. “What?”

    “Is that not what’s happening right now?” Roger said, his hands dropping as well. “Is that not why you’re over? You went to that party, got yourself all worked up and upset, and now you want to be fucked how Brian used to fuck you?”

    You blinked. “N– No,” you said, and you meant it, but the more Roger said it, the more you thought that maybe he was right, and you hadn’t even realised.

    “Because it’s what it feels like,” Roger said. “It feels like I’m just an outlet for you. It’s not even about you and me anymore, it’s about you and him.”

    Oh my God. You hated to admit it, but he was right. You covered your mouth with your hands, horrified at yourself. “Fuck, Roger, I…”

    “I’m ending the arrangement between us,” he said simply. “It’s not fun anymore, and it’s definitely not healthy. You need time to… I don’t even know. But you need time, and I don’t really feel like being collateral damage. Especially not with end-of-year exams literally just around the corner.”

    No. No, no, no, fuck, not this, anything but this.

    “No, Rog, please, I’m sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t thinking, I– I can’t–” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “Please. I…”

    Roger sighed, and pulled you into a hug. You clutched onto him, and, finally, cried. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking your hair. “This whole thing has really messed you up, hasn’t it?”

    “I c– can’t lose you t– too,” you sobbed into his shirt.

    “You’re not losing me. We’re still friends. It just… won’t be with the benefits anymore. For now, at least. Maybe forever, I don’t know. See how things go. But I’m never going to stop being friends with you.”

    Your body shook as you cried, and Roger rubbed your back, letting you ruin his shirt.

-

    The Bee Movie played on the TV, but your heart wasn’t in it. You leant against Roger, a cup of tea in your hands, and one in his. You were exhausted from crying, and you almost found yourself nodding off. Normally there was nothing more fun than enjoying the trials and tribulations of Barry B. Benson with Roger, but now not even casual bestiality was enough to cheer you up.

    Roger didn’t say much, either. You had no idea what he was thinking, although you were pretty sure he wasn’t really watching the movie, just staring at the screen.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking a little.

    Roger sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a soft, sad smile. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.”

    “I don’t even understand why,” you said, your bottom lip trembling. Not again. “I never liked him like that, not ever. I know I never liked him like that. I didn’t want to go out on dates with him, or be his girlfriend, or any of that. So I don’t get why it – hurts so much.”

    “Your thing went on for a really long time,” Roger reasoned. “And now it’s gone. I can’t blame you. I…” He bit his lip. “I… kinda miss it too, to be honest.”

    You frowned at him in confusion. “You miss… Brian?”

    “I miss…” Roger took a sip of his tea. “I miss the dynamic, I suppose. We actually got a lot closer because of it. And it was fun, you know? Especially the threesomes, those were really fun.”

    You managed a tired laugh.

    “It was just nice to have… a thing, that was ours,” Roger said. “Us three, I don’t know. This thing that was ours. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

    “No, it does,” you said. You paused, and then said, “You and Brian aren’t as close now?”

    Roger shrugged a shoulder. “Not… really?” he said unsurely. “We haven’t really hung out a lot recently. I mean, we’ve been studying a lot, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone as of late, but, like, for a while, me and Brian hung out a whole lot, just the two of us. Guess you end up feeling closer when you have to talk about your feelings all the time. And when you see each other naked every so often.” He shot you a smile, and you smiled back. “But now it’s sort of in a weird place. I mean, none of us have seen him a lot, he’s just with Dani all day and night. Which makes sense, they’re in their honeymoon phase. But I do miss… that.”

    You nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even feel like he wants to be around me,” you said in a small voice. “Like I’m not even friends with him anymore.”

    “You are,” Roger assured you. “You just… both have to learn how to be… normal friends again.”

    “And us too,” you added.

    Roger blinked, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, us, too.”

    You didn’t want to say it, you knew you shouldn’t say it, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue: “You gonna miss me?”

    Roger’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he took a big breath in and out, shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

    “Sorry, ignore me,” you mumbled. “I’m just being sad and pathetic.”

    “You’re not sad and pathetic,” Roger said. “But I’m not gonna miss you, you’ll still be around.”

    “You know what I mean,” you said.

    “Yeah, I know,” Roger said. He sighed again. “I don’t think… it would be good for either of us if I answered that.”

    You said nothing. It felt like Roger wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

    “But…” You looked to him, and he looked to you. “Can we still be friends like before?” you asked him. “I mean, just – with Brian, he won’t even hug me hello or goodbye, he barely looks at me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I just–” You shook your head. “I couldn’t stand it if you did that, too. Can we at least just be friends?”

    Roger nodded. “Of course,” he said.

    “Yes?”

    “Yes, of course,” he said again. “I promise you, okay? I like hugs just as much as you do.”

    You nodded, reassured. “Thank you.”

    Roger threw his arm around you and gave you a squeeze, then took his arm back.

    A month and a bit ago, he would’ve left his arm there, around your shoulders. You would’ve pressed closer into him. Probably eventually would’ve lifted your head to kiss his neck, or maybe your hands – or his hands – would’ve gone wandering.

    But a squeeze was something, at least, and you were grateful for it. You told yourself you were grateful for it.

-

Three-ish months later

    The air was just starting to cool, and, for the first time in a while, you pulled on a jacket.

    It had been a while since you’d seen your flat. You’d gone home for the summer – not for the whole time, you still had rent to pay and you didn’t want to waste it, but for a few weeks – which had been a welcomed change of scenery.

    After how your previous semester of uni had ended, the last thing you’d wanted was to hang around the flat.

    It had been an uncomfortable summer. The mid-year break, last year, you hadn’t gone home. You’d told your parents it was because of the rent thing, but in reality, it had mostly been about Roger and Brian. A month off uni, and your flatmate Lucy had gone home for the break, meaning you had a free house? That had been a wild couple of weeks.

    You shook your head. Stop, you reprimanded yourself. It did you no good to reminisce. You’d had an entire summer to sort things out for yourself, to reset, and it was a bad idea to let yourself slip. You’d barely spoken to Roger or Brian all summer, just to give yourself some space.

    You’d missed them. A lot. Maybe cried once or twice. Maybe more. But that was only for you to know.

    You doubted that they’d missed you.

    The thought still felt like a stab to the gut, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head at yourself. Stop it. Stop.

    There was a knock on the front door, and you were momentarily surprised – but you knew it was Veronica. You took a moment to get your thoughts together, then hurried to the door to let her in.

    She greeted you with a joyous cry of your name and a warm hug. “It’s been so long!”

    The two of you rocked from foot to foot, and you breathed in her familiar smell. You hadn’t seen her since before Christmas.

    When the hug eventually ended, Veronica sighed happily. “Can’t believe I’ve missed you,” she said, and you laughed, giving her a backhand slap on the arm.

    “Cow,” you said.

    “So you’ve kept the same place?”

    “Yep,” you said.

    “Lucy still your flatmate?”

    “Yeah. It works well, so.”

    “No, no, she’s lovely,” Veronica said with a nod. “Did she want to come to drinks tonight?”

    You glanced towards Lucy’s room instinctively, even though you knew she wasn’t in there. “She’s not coming back until Wednesday, I think.”

    “Ah, well, answers that question.” Veronica gave you a smile. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, and you just stood there, waiting for her to ask it.

    She sighed again, resigned. She knew she’d been sprung. “I wasn’t going to ask. I– I wasn’t sure if I should.”

    “I’m okay,” you said. “I’m fine.”

    Veronica squinted at you unsurely, like she wanted to press you for further information, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “Fine?”

    “It’s been a bit rough, but I’m okay,” you said.

    You’d tell her the truth soon enough. You had no willpower when it came to Veronica. But you weren’t in the mood for a whole conversation right now.

    “So you’re all right for tonight?”

    You rolled your eyes. “Am I capable of getting drinks with my friends? Yes, I think so.”

    “Even though Dani will be there?”

    “Brian and Dani have been dating for, like, five months now – and don’t say it like that. Brian isn’t my ex.”

    “Roger’s dating someone,” Veronica blurted.

    Your heart leapt into your throat. Stop. “Oh?” you said, and it sounded warped and wonky. “Since when? Good for him. Have you met her?”

    “Once,” Veronica said. “Just last week, when I dropped by the flat. Her name is–” She let out a laugh. “Actually, this is really funny. Her name is Freddy.”

    You laughed. “What?” you squawked. “Freddy?”

    “Freddy with a Y,” Veronica said. “Roger made that very clear when I met her. As if that changes anything.”

    “God, I bet that’s confusing in bed,” you said.

    “Yeah, well, I’m guessing the ‘with a Y’ part makes all the difference for Roger.”

    “Freddy,” you mused. “What’s it short for?”

    “No idea. But she’s not as hot as you are.”

    You shot Veronica a mock glare. “Roger isn’t my ex either.”

    “Still,” Veronica said lightly. She hesitated, and then said, “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”

    “No, not really,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “Look, Ron, could we just… table this conversation for later? I’m not really up to it.”

    “Yeah, of course,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my nose out of it. Let’s just go. Are you ready?”

    You took a steadying breath. “So ready,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

-

    Arriving at the local pub felt like coming home. The smell of beer, the roar of conversation, the bundles of people crowded around tables. The floor was sticky, there weren’t enough places to sit, and the prices up on the chalkboard on the wall were far too high.

    You scrunched your nose. Coming home sucked.

    “I forgot how much I hate this place,” you yelled into Veronica’s ear. “We need to find somewhere less popular, Jesus.”

    “I know,” Veronica said. “I’ve mentioned it to John; he thinks the same.”

    “Next time.”

    “Yeah, next time.”

    You said that every time.

    Veronica corroborated her instructional texts from John with the view in front of her in order to find everyone else. They were tucked away in a corner booth, crammed into the space.

    You’d had enough trouble as it was, trying to fit everyone into a booth. You couldn’t even imagine how you were going to make it work with two new people in the group.

    Veronica took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as you neared the table.

    There was John, at the end of the booth, facing you – his eyes lit up when he spotted Veronica, and began shifting over to make room for her beside him. At the end of the table, on a chair, was Freddie. He noticed John’s line of sight, and he turned to you, his smile wide.

    You couldn’t really see the others. Just the back of Brian’s head. But that was hard to miss.

    Freddie stood up to give you a warm hug as Veronica tossed around a few ‘hello’s and slid in next to John. “Darling!” Freddie said. “I haven’t seen you all break.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” you said.

    Freddie waved you off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced towards the other occupants of the booth.

    “Don’t start,” you muttered, and Freddie gave your arm a swift pat.

    “Speaking of which,” he said, turning. “Roger, Brian, you remember our dear friend, I’m sure?”

    You resisted elbowing Freddie in the side, giving Brian and Roger tight smiles.

    At the same time, your eyes landed on Dani and her browny blonde Ariana Grande ponytail and her mouse face and her curvy body pressed into Brian’s side. And beside Roger, tucked under his arm, was a blonde, tanned girl. Blue eyes, like Roger, but hers were light, strikingly so, and a perfect full face of make-up. Her brows were dark and bold, and her lips looked pouty and soft.

    ‘Not as hot as you were’ your arse. This girl looked like she modelled in her spare time.

    Your jaw clenched. You resisted dragging Veronica away by her ear and having a word with her.

    Stop it. Stop it.

    “This is Freddy,” Freddie said.

    “With a Y,” Roger added quickly.

    “Yes, with a Y,” Freddie said dryly. “Roger’s new flame.”

    “Hi,” Freddy said with a smile. Her teeth were very white. She lifted a well-manicured hand to fiddle with the silver chain around her neck.

    You could see the discolouration on her knuckles. Well, at least you knew her tan wasn’t real. That was something. Wasn’t it?

    No. It wasn’t. She looked incredible anyway. Didn’t even matter that she was wearing fake tan. What a stupid thing to think.

    You introduced yourself.

    There was a pause where no one really knew what to say next.

    “Hi, by the way,” John said.

    Relieved, you gave him a smile. “Hi, John, how are you?”

    “Not too bad. Do you want to find a chair?”

    God bless John Deacon. “Let me help you,” Freddie said, and you both began wandering through the crowd together, knowing there was no way in hell you’d be able to find a chair.

    “How are you?” Freddie asked. “Actually, sod the fucking chair, let’s get a drink.”

    “Sounds superb,” you said.

    “Try again,” Freddie said when you’d gotten in line. “How are you?”

    “Fine,” you said. “And you?”

    “Good, fine,” Freddie said. “Lonely. I want a boyfriend. Everyone else is in a godforsaken relationship, so I only think it’s reasonable. Look at me, the token lonely, single homosexual in a group of straight people. Right out of an early 2000s chick flick. I may as well start wearing skinny scarves and a vest and talk about how much I love shopping. Do you think I’m sassy enough?”

    “Stop it,” you said. “If you start wearing skinny scarves, I’ll strangle you with one.”

    “If I start wearing skinny scarves, I’d practically be begging you to,” Freddie muttered.

    “I’m sorry you’re lonely,” you said. “I could be your wingwoman, if you like. We could go out together.”

    Freddie gave you a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. His eyes scanned the chalkboard, as did yours, but it was more habit than anything else. “What did you get up to during the break?”

    “Slept,” you said, and Freddie chuckled, nodding in agreement.

    “Ate too much,” he added.

    “Yep, that too,” you said with a laugh. “Never left the house.”

    “Except to buy more booze.”

    “Or take the bins out.”

    Freddie laughed. “Isn’t summer wonderful.”

    “Oh, it’s just perfect,” you said, and it came out so bitter, with such a sneer in your tone, that Freddie cracked up. A few heads turned, but they usually did, with Freddie.

    “Did you stay here or go home?” you asked.

    “Both,” Freddie said. “Mostly here, though. Just wanted to see the family for a while, but I’m far more comfortable here.”

    You nodded.

    “Did you talk to Brian and Roger much?” Freddie said.

    You shook your head. “No.”

    That was all.

    “Well, shit,” Freddie said. “That’s all just completely fucked, then?”

    “It’s fine,” you said. You reached the front of the line, and went to order. Freddie followed you.

    You ordered a cider, then Freddie ordered a pint. “What do you think of Freddy with a Y?” Freddie asked as the bartender poured your drinks.

    “I’ve barely met her,” you said. “Didn’t know she existed until Ron told me just before we left mine.”

    “Jesus,” Freddie said. “You really haven’t spoken to them.”

    “No,” you said. “And Roger doesn’t post much on social media, either, so. And Brian posts far too much, so I know way too much about him and Dani for my liking, which is wonderful.”

    “I’m sorry,” Freddie said. “God, I’m sorry it’s all gone to shit, I really am. That’s miserable, darling.”

    “It’s fine,” you said. The bartender set your drinks in front of you, and you and Freddie collected them, weaving your way back to the table.

    “Did you… get around to dating much?” Freddie asked.

    “Wasn’t in the mood,” you said.

    Freddie said nothing. Message received.

    You arrived back at the booth. While you’d gotten a drink, you hadn’t solved the seating problem.

    You bunched up next to Veronica. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

    You met Brian’s eyes across the table. He gave you a warm smile. It hurt. You hated that it hurt. “I haven’t said hi yet,” he said, like you hadn’t just gone three months without seeing or speaking to each other. “How you going?”

    “Good, good,” you said, and took a swig of cider. “You?”

    “Yeah, great. Get up to much?”

    “Not really. Did you?”

    “Not too much,” Brian said. “Dani and I took a little trip south. That was nice, wasn’t it, baby?”

    “So nice,” Dani said with a cheeky, knowing little grin at Brian.

    He shook his head at her, and she giggled, then reached up for a quick kiss.

     You knew about the little trip south. Everybody knew about the little trip south. Brian had waxed poetry about it on Instagram for every single day they were away. “So lots of sex, then,” you said.

    Veronica choked on her water, and Roger burst out laughing.

    You hadn’t realised he’d been listening to the conversation.

    Dani’s face was turning tomato-red, and she hid her face behind her hand. Brian managed a good-natured chuckle, albeit a slightly forced one, and you could tell he was rubbing Dani’s knee under the table.

    “What, what was the joke?” Freddie said immediately.

    “Nothing,” you said, and turned to Roger. “So, Freddy, with a Y, how did you and Roger meet?”

    “Bumble,” Freddy said, unabashed. “About a month ago?”

    “Yeah, about that,” Roger said.

    “Yeah, Ron said,” you said. “That’s nice.”

    “So there’s…” Roger licked his bottom lip. “There’s no one you’ve got your eye on, then?”

    “No,” you said, uncomfortable. Why would anyone want you? You were messy, you were too much. You were demanding. You were easily replaced.

    You took a sip of cider. Stop.

    It had been three months, for God’s sake. Three months of no contact, and still you were left with an ugly, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach after everything that had happened.

    None of it had even mattered. You’d always known it had had an expiration date. You were just…

    You hated feeling like this.

    “Hey,” Veronica said suddenly, raising her glass of water. “Let’s make a toast, shall we? To the new year. To– to passing our classes, and to ramen, and to… fresh starts.”

    Everyone raised their glasses, saying something along the lines of cheers, and began clinking their glasses together. You took a moment longer, but joined in.

    Veronica met your eyes to clink her glass to yours. “Fresh starts,” she said with a small smile.

    You couldn’t quite say it back, so you smiled and nodded, then took a sip of your cider.

    You could feel Brian’s and Roger’s eyes on you. You pretended to be interested in something happening across the room.

    God, you couldn’t wait for this chapter of your life to be nothing but a bad dream.

[bunivys]

3- “I love you.” “You shouldn’t.”

Thank you for sending this in! This one hurt, but it was fun! 😢

Fire simmered just beyond the wall, Sabrina ducking behind it and dropping to the floor beside Nick. Outside, the Queen of Hell, Sabrina Morningstar, rained fury down on anything that moved, while Sabrina Spellman hid, waiting it out. Their plan to ambush the lost-to-power Queen hadn’t gone as according to plan, and it had ended with them scattering, retreating for cover.

“You agreed to this, Sabrina,” the Queen called. “You wanted a normal life, and you got it. I wanted to rule, and I got it. What’s the problem? Why have you suddenly changed your mind? You got what you wanted!”

Sabrina pressed her lips together, shutting her eyes for a moment as she resisted yelling back. She knew the Queen only wanted to draw her out, to figure out where they were hiding so that she could shower them with Hellfire. And that would not work if Sabrina wanted to merge the two of them back together. Both of them had to survive, and Sabrina had to see to it, even if her own powers had dwindled while the Queen’s grew.

Sabrina had not gotten what she’d wanted. Yes, she had wanted a normal life, and yes, she had made a selfish mistake, but after the events of the last month, she had come to terms with what had to be done. Time had gone wonky, things had begun to leak through the tender laceration they had created—dark things. Things that would bring upon the end of the world.

Yet again, Sabrina Spellman had to save the world. And yet again, she felt as though she was failing.

Beside her, Nick pressed a palm into the slash at his waist. “So, the other Sabrina is a peach,” he commented a tad sarcastically. 

Sabrina sighed, peeking around the corner for a moment. Her family and her friends were all there, hiding away, blurred by the thick wall of hellfire the Queen had raised around her. She couldn’t let them burn because of her. And Nick, with that awful gash sunk deep into his skin. He wouldn’t last long with it, if she continued to waste time.

Pressing her back into the wall once again, she bit her lip and decided she needed to jump into action.

“I love you,” she said to the warlock beside her.

It hung in the air between for a moment, Nick frozen. She couldn’t look at him, so she stared ahead, watched the shadows of the fire dancing along the wall of the palace.

Carefully, he said, “You shouldn’t.”

She knew what he meant. She had tried to sever her feeling for him via two red candles with a joined wick, had tossed it all aside because she had been hurt. Weeks of firsts, of new love, of yearning for him while was away—all of it, down the drain.

And worse, she had never told Nick. He’d had to walk upon the remnants of the candles himself. Had to see his name carved into one. Had to see Harvey’s there alongside it, confirming his insecurities.

Sabrina closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to cry. “I know I shouldn’t...The candle...but I do, Nick. It didn’t work.”

“No,” Nick said softly like he hadn’t been thinking of the candle at all. “I—you shouldn’t, Sabrina. What good has it gotten you before?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Nick.” She finally turned to face him, offered him a small smile, and said, “I’ve loved you before, and now I love you again, and it doesn’t matter if it’s good for either of us, because it’s the truth. Please, whatever happens, know that I love you, okay? And I’m so sorry that I tried to erase that.”

Nick’s face shifted through several emotions. Shock, first, and then, to a tender, pain-riddled longing. Finally, fear washed it all out once he realized what she was doing.

“No,” Nick said, “No, no, no, Sabrina—” 

 She kissed him once on the cheek and then slipped away from his reach, even as he threw himself painfully onto his knees, then to feet, swaying from the blood loss but refusing to give up. He was desperate as he grabbed for her, but she was quicker.

“Sabrina,” Nick pleaded, his voice thick, “don’t.”

Sabrina didn’t cave, even if it hurt to listen to him, the ache in his voice echoing painfully in her mind. She came out from behind the wall, ran toward the fire. Sliding through it was easy, the fire not burning her, but rather, welcoming her as she came to stand before the Queen. Her mirror. A harsh, sick reminder of what she was deep down, what she feared herself becoming—power-hungry, selfish, a replica of her father.

“We end this here,” Sabrina said. “We merge whether you want it or not.”

[rorynne]

Touch

Pairing: Bucky/Reader

Summary: Request:  a fic where the reader really hates being touched by someone they’re not close with and all the Avengers learn about it. Except they only accept being touched by people they’re close with or someone they like and that’s how one of the Avengers realises the reader likes them. You can do it with whoever, i know it’ll be great anyway!  -Anon

Warnings: None as far as I know, its just Rory Brand Fluff.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: It should not have taken me 8 hours to type up 1.8k words from a notebook. ADHD handed my ass to me tonight

Masterlist

It was no secret that you didn't like to be touched, hated it even. You did everything in your power to avoid it. The only time you would even tolerate it was from friends, and even then it was just that, tolerating. Most people didn't understand it, they usually just wrote you off as being snobby, or maybe just a germaphobe. What they didn't get was just how much unwanted contact hurt. It was easier to manage with friends, but just one small touch from a stranger was enough to make you completely unable to speak for the rest of the day, or worse, have a complete breakdown from the sensation.

The Avengers understood though, or at the very least, they accepted without judgment. They each had their fair share of quirks and needs, and to them, your touch avoidance was no different. It was honestly a blessing to be working for them. You provided them with ground support and helped repair their gear. They provided you with moral support and freedom from unwanted contact. Of course, they weren't perfect, every so often someone might accidentally bump into you, or excitedly clap a hand on your shoulder without asking first. But that was okay, you could tolerate it from them. Especially when they did their best to make you feel included in the team in any way that they could, more than anyone else had done for you in the past.

No doubt that desire to include you was exactly what brought Steve to your workbench in the lab, a long-haired man following close behind, not unlike a confused puppy. You had glanced up from your current project as they approached, Steve radiating his typical golden retriever-like aura, while the man behind him looked none too happy to actually be there. "Y/N! I'm glad I found you. I wanted to introduce Bucky yo everyone he hasn't had the chance to meet yet."

Bucky shifted slightly uncomfortably on his feet as he gave you an awkward smile and held his hand out to you. “Glad to meet you.” You glanced at his hand and grimaced mentally. Steve had spent months talking about Bucky and the progress he was making, Steve was beyond excited to have his best friend back and on the team, but Bucky was still a stranger to you. Your grip tightened around your wrench and you glanced over at Steve.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky.” You said, leaving his hand unshaken, instead, giving him a polite smile. Steve immediately jumped into action, whispering something, likely an explanation, into Bucky’s ear.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his face went red as he dropped his hand. “Sorry.” He mumbled out quickly and something in your heart squeezed.

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured, “You couldn’t have known.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “For what it's worth, I'm not a big fan of touching people either.” Your heart gave another squeeze and you weren’t quite sure why. His aversion to touch made sense, you recalled Steve explaining the things that had happened to him.

"We have something in common then." You said setting your wrench down on the table in front of you. "Luckily everyone here is very understanding about it."

He smiled, and for a moment your brain completely blanked as you saw the was his smile made the skin crinkle adorably around his eyes. He was attractive, there was no denying that, but honestly, something about his smile was special. "I'm glad to hear that," he said softly before pointing at the device on your work table. "What are you working on anyway?"

You blinked before looking down at what he was pointing at. "Oh! This is the Maximum Operational Radius Support Aerobot or MORSA. Tony came up with the name, I like to call him Moe for short. He's like redwing, Sam's drone? But more support focused than combat focused. He's my eyes in the sky, he's great. I wouldn't be able to be nearly as much help without him. Time to wake up Moe." You said, tapping the drone twice. It burst to life, hovering a few inches above the table, albeit as a noticeable angle. You winced at Moe's lopsided hovering, but Bucky seemed enthralled. "He isn't usually so…. Wonky. He got damaged by an explosion a few missions ago and I only just got him flying again. I'm sure Wakanda has things way more advanced but…" you trailed off as Bucky shook his head.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, circling around for a better look. You almost didn’t notice his hand accidentally brushing against your arm as he moved past you, but to your surprise, it didn’t feel unpleasant. “It’s like that car Stark showed off in ‘43. You remember that Stevie?”

Steve seemed almost surprised as he watched Bucky gush over the drone, you would have never been able to guess that he had been begging Steve to not bother introducing him to anyone not even half an hour before. “The one that crashed to the ground?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Listen Punk, don’t even pretend to act like you stuck around long enough to see that.”

You bit your lip to fight the urge to laugh. You would have never expected the Winter Soldier to be a science nerd. “I did base Moe’s propulsion system off Howard Stark’s flying car propulsion designs, though I reworked them to be more efficient and a bit faster. When they’re properly adjusted at least.” You finished by tapping the drone again and it gently lowered onto the table before turning off.

“That’s absolutely amazing,” Bucky said rubbing his jaw. “What else does it do?” You grinned as you began to explain Moe’s functions in detail, Bucky clinging to your every word. Neither of you noticed as Steve quietly slipped away, grinning like a Cheshire cat. It was rare for either of you to take so quickly to someone, and he wasn’t about to do anything to draw your attention to it. He could finish introducing Bucky to everyone tomorrow.

From that day, your friendship with Bucky was easy and fun. You both just seemed to click in a way you had never experienced with someone before. He would spend hours in the lab while you worked, talking to you about anything and everything that he could think of. You wouldn’t shy away from him on the extremely rare times he would accidentally touch or brush against you. Strangely, you actually found yourself liking his touch and, for that matter, him.

Actually, saying you liked Bucky was probably the understatement of the century. You were absolutely head-over-heels for him. You didn’t have a damn clue how you managed to fall so hard for him, especially when it didn’t even feel like falling at all. You could barely even focus if he wasn’t there. You had grown so used to his presence that when he was on missions the entire tower seemed to feel empty.

Which was where you found yourself right now. You tinkered aimlessly on your gadget, there were countless repairs you should be doing, but you just couldn’t motivate yourself to do any of them. Bucky had been on a mission for the last two weeks, the longest he had been away since he joined. You had no idea what to do with yourself as you pulled yourself through the paces of adjusting Moe's propulsion system. You were waiting for FRIDAY to inform you of Bucky's return, just like she always did the moment he came back. You couldn't wait to greet him as he got off the quinjet. At least then you could stop worrying so much and get some work done.

"Y/N, FRIDAY's voice echoed through the lab. Your heart soared as you looked up toward the ceiling at the disembodied voice. "Sergeant Barnes has just landed, he's been rushed to the med bay." And just like that, your heart crashed to the ground. Something fell to the ground with a loud bang as you jumped up, but you didn't care to see what it was as you rushed out of the lab.

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you as you hurried to the med bay. Horror stories played through your head as you pushed through the doors. You paid no mind to the nurses yelling for you to slow down as you searched for Bucky.

Your lungs bere burning when you found him being stitched up by Bruce, talking to Steve. Relief hit you like a tidal wave. He was okay. Bruce had just finished Bucky’s stitches when you threw your arms around Bucky. You hadn’t even thought about the contact, you were just so happy that he was okay. You only realized it when you felt a cool arm wrap around your waist.

“Don’t cry Doll.” He said softly, tightening his arms around you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until he pointed it out. “I’m okay. The bullet only grazed me. I promise I’m okay.” He reassured you, his hand stroking your hair. Being held by him was probably the nicest thing you’ve ever felt.

You took a deep, shaky breath as your tears slowed. You nodded as you pulled away from him, smiling weakly. Bruce and Steve stared in disbelief as they watched you. You had never so much as willingly shook someone's had, let alone hug them, and yet there you were with your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck. Bucky ignored them, pulling you back into him, touching his forehead to yours. You sniffled, “FRIDAY said-”

“I know Doll. It’s okay. Are you?”

You swallowed and nodded again. You had never been so close to him before, but honestly, it felt right, it put your mind at ease in ways you severely needed right now. He was so important to you, and you were so scared you might have lost him. Especially before you could tell him just how important he was. You took a deep breath, filled with a sudden resolve, “I love you.” You finally said, bracing him for his response.

Tears threatened in your eyes again when he laughed. “Doll, I figured that out when you hugged me.” He brushed away a tear welling in your eye with his thumb. “And I love you too.” The breath caught in your throat and you choked out a sobbing laugh. “Want to talk about this over milkshakes?”

“I’d love to.” You smiled with a big sniffle.

“As sweet as this is.” Bruce cut in. “I need to finish bandaging Bucky up before you two try to take off.” You both pulled apart to see Bruce holding up gauze and bandages.

Bucky smiled that smile you had come to love so dearly before kissing your forehead. “Go get ready, Doll. I’ll pick you up in 10.” You nodded, giving him one last hug before leaving. You really could get used that feeling. 

Taglist: 

@part-time-prefect @anxiousamandapanda

[firebrands]

I Second that Emotion

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, skinny Steve & no powers AU, T (swearing), 3k+ words (also on AO3)

thank you to @duckmoles​ for the beta! i appreciate you so much!!!

thanks as well to @stevedanvrs & @burdenedwgloriousmisha​ who helped me out when i was wondering where the hell to go with this prompt! this is for you~

stony bingo fill for “mugging”

*

Steve Rogers’ night is shaping up to be a disaster. He curses to himself as he makes his way through his small apartment for the third time, picking up pillows and strewn about clothes in an attempt to find his mock-ups.

“Fuck!” he shouts, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands, feeling utterly defeated.

Steve looks up at the sound of soft tap-tapping of paws against the wooden floor and Dodger sticks his head right under the crook of Steve’s shoulder to peer up at him.

Steve tries very hard not to cry, but ultimately fails when Dodger dips his head under Steve’s hand, begging for pats. “Oh bud,” Steve buries his face into his dog’s soft, short hair. “You deserve so much more.” He wallows a bit more, thinking about how he’ll probably have to give Dodger up for adoption because he won’t have enough money to feed the both of them. 

Dodger wuffles up to him, resting his head on Steve’s lap. Dogs always know , Steve thinks morosely.

After a while, Steve straightens up and wipes his face with the back of his hand, and looks around for a tissue. Instead, he sees the bright colors of the illustration he’d worked on poking up from under Dodger’s blanket. 

In the back of his mind, Steve was thankful that there was no one else to hear the high-pitched sound coming from his mouth as he dove to the floor, checking to see if those really were his mock-ups. The only thing running through Steve’s mind was please please please please. 

Steve holds the illustrations up to the light and kisses them, then opens up his bag and slides the boards into a hard plastic envelope. He presses a kiss to Dodger’s head before running out of his apartment.

He’s down two flights of stairs (of course today was the day management decided to finally do maintenance on the wonky elevator) before he realizes he didn’t lock the door. Steve bounds back up, pats his pockets for his keys (left on the bowl by the front door), and finally clicks the lock shut before running back downstairs.

Finally, Steve stands on the stoop of his apartment building and stares at the street. He stares some more at the street that is currently glistening under the torrential rain. He briefly considers running back up to get an umbrella, but when the rain gets this bad umbrellas are basically useless, anyway… Steve takes a steadying breath and decides to leg it. They needed his mock-ups before midnight, and the office was only a few blocks away. 

Besides, it’s Steve’s fault in the first place for bringing work home; he very well could’ve stayed in the office and worked on them there. But he’d thought he deserved a bit of rest, and a bit of quiet (advertising agencies could get a bit much, particularly if it was past office hours).

A man sidles up to Steve and asks, “Hey man, where’s the nearest McDonald’s?”

Steve turns, mouth open and ready to tell this guy to buzz off, when he notices the man is holding something in his hand. Before Steve can even register what it is, the man says, “Give me your bag.”

“No,” Steve says gruffly, holding onto his bag strap tighter.

Steve’s friends had always told him that his mouth would get him into trouble. This is exactly what goes through Steve’s mind as the man holds up what was in his hand and oh, that’s a gun .

But I need to give these illustrations to the office , Steve thinks deliriously. What if I just ask him if I can take the illustrations out and he can have everything else?

*

Steve wakes up and flinches away from the man crouched over him. The man raises his hands, placating.

Steve peers up at him and realizes it’s not the same guy, before looking around for his bag. With the way the man’s sitting on his haunches, he’s taking the brunt of the rain, which at least keeps the water from Steve’s eyes as he turns his head to look around.

Seeing that the only thing on the sidewalk are the bits of detritus that New York never seems to run out of, Steve lets his head fall back on the concrete with a soft thud. The man instinctively reaches out in an attempt to catch Steve’s head, but is too slow.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, Steve thinks dully. 

“Hey, do you need help?” the man asks, shifting a bit. “Do you need me to call 911?”

Steve may be crying. Or it might be the rain. One could say it was the rain. Either way, his face is wet and he means it when he says, “Just leave me alone to die.”

The man laughs, high and a little hysterical. “No, I—I can’t have that on my conscience too. Come on, let’s—” the man grunts, and Steve sneaks a glance at this unnecessarily kind stranger. He wants to ask what he means by “too,” but doesn’t. The man turns to face Steve, and their eyes meet. 

“I’m going to stand up now, and then I’m going to haul you up if you won’t get up on your own,” the man says, authority clear in his voice. It stirs something in Steve, despite everything. 

True to his word, the man stands up and offers his hand to Steve. Steve takes the man’s hand and turns his face away as he uselessly tries to wipe away any evidence of tears. The rain continues to batter down upon them.

When Steve turns to look at the man, the man is already smiling down at him. “How about we get out of this rain?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, feeling listless after remembering that he didn’t have a bag, didn’t have a wallet, and didn’t have any hope of getting a paycheck any time soon. 

“Hey, come on.” The man tries his best to make his smile encouraging. “I got you.”

They slip into the first restaurant they come across, which happens to be a greasy looking diner. The man waits for Steve to sit before sliding in the booth across him. It’s an old looking joint, or at least it tries to look that way; the seats are red and white leather, and there are old 60s-looking posters up, and they have a jukebox, too. 

“I’m Tony, by the way,” the man says, and after a few seconds of staring, Steve remembers his manners. 

“Hi, Tony,” he says, sounding shell shocked. He hopes that Tony chalks it up to finding Steve splayed on the sidewalk, and not because Steve is overwhelmed by how handsome he is. “I’m Steve.”

“Hi Steve.” Tony’s smile is wide and cheery. “Do you like pie?”

“I—yes,” Steve can’t draw his eyes away from how stunningly gorgeous Tony is, even with his hair plastered against his scalp. His long lashes have stuck together from the rain, but they still frame his soft brown eyes beautifully.

“Good,” Tony says, his eyes running through the list of items on the menu. The waitress comes soon enough, and Tony orders: “An apple pie and a cherry pie. Oh and two cups of coffee, please. And a bag of ice, too? Only if you could manage it.”

With the order taken, Tony turns back to look at Steve. “You’re sure you don’t need any emergency services, right?” he asks, as if suddenly remembering why they’d made each other’s acquaintance.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says, sagging against the cheap leather of the couch.

“I mean, you got a pretty big shiner there,” Tony says, gesturing to Steve’s face and smiling abashedly.

So maybe Steve was in shock, because only now does the pain finally register. Still, he deserves it; he lost all of his stuff, even his phone, so the agency probably thinks he bailed on them, which means he can expect to never get any projects from them ever again.

“Hey, sorry, I—how can I help?” Tony looks concerned.

“Well I don’t have any money to pay for the pie,” Steve laughs mirthlessly. 

Tony waves him off. “It’s the least I could do,” he says. “What happened back there?”

Steve shrugs. “Oh, you know. Famous hospitality of New York.”

Tony’s lips quirk up in a rueful smile.

“Do you have anyone I can call? Or something?”

“Yeah, if you have the creative director of Ogilvy on you, that’d be great,” Steve says sarcastically, and his mom would probably give him a big talking to if she’d seen how he was acting now but Steve is tired, and done, and he’s mad at everything. 

Tony brightens at this, which confuses Steve.

“Actually, I have them on retainer,” Tony says, reaching into his coat pocket for his phone.

“Oh—no, I was joking, oh my god,” Steve says hurriedly, and reaches over the table to stop Tony’s hand as he’s scrolling through his contact list.

Tony looks at Steve’s hand on top of his, and Steve tightens his fist around Tony’s hand and phone. “Seriously, it’s fine, I don’t want to trouble you any more than—”

Tony’s smile widens into a grin. “Steve, I’d love to have you trouble me more.”

Steve feels his entire face heat up with a blush. “Oh,” he says.

Tony’s smile falters. “I mean, fuck, wow, sorry,” Tony shakes his head and pulls his hand away. “Sorry. My friends always tell me my mouth ‘runneth free.’”

Steve bites his lip, trying to stop a smile from blooming. “I don’t mind,” he mumbles.

Thankfully, the pie finally arrives, along with an unimpressed looking waitress who wordlessly hands Steve a bag of ice.

“Thanks,” Steve says to her, before gingerly placing the bag over his eye.

Tony regards him while taking a sip of his coffee.

Steve tries to figure out how to eat pie with half his face covered with ice, when Tony reaches over and cuts him a bite using the fork. He turns the plate back to Steve.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks, before raising the fork shoving the too-big portion into his mouth.

“Because you needed help,” Tony says simply. “For both the pie and the sidewalk, earlier,” he clarifies.

Steve frowns, and puts down the ice bag on the table. “No one really does that anymore,” he says. Least of all people who have agencies on retainer, or direct lines to big wigs, he thinks.

Tony shrugs. “I can go, if you want.”

“No!” Steve nearly shouts. “That’s not what I meant,” he adds, voice softer. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me, either,” Tony counters. “And yet here we are.”

Steve avoids responding by eating more pie, realizing how hungry he was.

Tony tucks into his pie as well, and makes a face. “This tastes terrible,” he whispers.

“Better than what I have at my place,” Steve grumbles.

“Why, what’s at yours?” Tony asks suggestively, smirking and cocking his head. 

“Nothing,” Steve deadpans, trying to fight down the feeling of a flush rising to his face.

“Seriously, Steve, if you need me to call Erik—”

“ Erik? ” Steve splutters. “You’re on a first name basis with—”

Tony holds his hands up, trying to calm Steve. “Or not! I just want to help?”

“Why?” Steve asks despairingly. “Seriously, why are you being so nice? Don’t you have somewhere important to be or something?”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but it’s 10PM on a Wednesday night.” He smiles again, but a bit tentatively.

Steve doesn’t budge.

“I don’t know,” Tony says, exasperated. “I was in the car and you were all alone on the ground, and I couldn’t just leave you there, you could get sick, or, well, I was thinking you could get mugged but I figure that’s what happened…?” Tony trails off. 

Steve sighs, polishes off the rest of his pie, and pushes it down with the bitter coffee.

Tony looks downcast as he takes small bites of his food, and Steve feels inexplicably sorry for it.

“Thank you,” Steve says, offering an olive branch. “I realize I haven’t said it.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says, smiling up at Steve. “You’re welcome.”

They sit in silence for a while, and keeping in line with the strange miracles of the night, the jukebox in the diner works. A Smokey Robinson song plays over the old speakers: Oh, but if you feel like lovin' me, if you got the notion...

“So you work in Ogilvy?” Tony asks, trying to start the conversation back up again.

It has the opposite effect on Steve, who sags even lower onto the couch.

“Not really, I do projects for them sometimes,” he says. “But I figure I won’t be in their rotation anymore after tonight,” he adds bitterly.

“Do you… write?” Tony hazards a guess.

“No, I illustrate,” Steve says, wanting to move on from the conversation.

“That’s cool,” Tony says. “Never been good at creative stuff.”

“‘Creative stuff,’” Steve scoffs, making air-quotations with his hands.

Tony laughs. “The sass!”

Steve smirks, and drinks the rest of his coffee as Tony motions for the check.

“I’m really sorry for the trouble,” Steve says again, feeling mournful as the waitress hands Tony a piece of paper.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Tony says, digging into his pockets for his wallet. He folds a damp bill in half and uses his coffee mug to pin it to the table.

They stand up and move towards the exit. “Thanks again,” Steve says, turning to Tony.

“If you don’t want me to call Erik, then at least let me bring you home,” Tony says easily, as he pushes the diner door open. The rain continues beating steadily onto the pavement.

“No, you’ve already been too kind,” Steve says, embarrassed.

“I don’t want you to walk in the rain again,” Tony says, and places a hand lightly on the small of Steve’s back as he steers them down the sidewalk.

“Tony, seriously,” Steve feels his face flush at the contact, and he turns to face Tony to show him that he’s serious , but movement means Tony’s hand is pressed against his stomach. Steve swallows. 

Tony raises a hand and clicks on a remote, and the headlights of the Audi beside them flash as it unlocks.

“Too late, here’s my car,” Tony grins.

Steve raises his eyes to heaven in silent prayer. But even he doesn’t know if it’s a prayer for help or one of thanks.

Tony opens the passenger side door, absolutely soaking the interior with rain as he does, and Steve climbs in. He tries to make himself as small as possible, horrified that he’s probably ruining the leather of the seat just by existing.

“Where to?” Tony asks, running a hand through his wet hair and divesting his jacket. The rain has caused his shirt to stick to his skin, and Steve stares at the way his muscles move and shift as he starts the car and puts it into gear.

“Steve?” Tony asks, smiling slightly.

“Oh,” Steve says, licking his lips. “It’s two blocks down from here,” he says, a bit mortified at how near his apartment is, and also at how Tony obviously caught him staring.

They drive in silence, and Steve continues to sneak glances at Tony.

“Here,” Steve says softly, and Tony stops the car in front of Steve’s sad, old apartment building. Steve wonders if he should ask Tony for his number, but pushes away the thought—Tony obviously had more important, more attractive, people in his rolodex of contacts.

Steve turns to Tony to say thank you, but is struck by the strange, shy look on Tony’s face. Could that mean…?

“Do you want to come up for a cup of coffee?” Steve asks, then immediately covers his face with his hand when he realizes that they just had coffee. “Sorry, nevermind, thank you, goodbye,” he says, words rushing out of him as he fumbles for the door handle.

“I’d love to come up for coffee,” Tony says, laughing a little. He unlocks the door and Steve stumbles out of the car.

“The elevator isn’t working, so feel free to change your mind,” Steve says, wiping rain out of his eyes as he fumbles for his key.

Tony has his hands crossed behind his back as he looks around, completely unaffected. Steve stares at him for a moment, the way he looks in the rain, hair wet, white button-down nearly translucent. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, as if he finds this block charming, as if, despite the rain, he's happy.

Tony glances down at Steve, and Steve is jolted away from his thoughts. 

“Come in,” Steve says, pushing the door open and motioning Tony over. They’re quiet as they walk up the stairs.

Steve opens the door to his apartment and is greeted enthusiastically by Dodger. Dodger, a large pitbull, easily overpowers Steve, and pushes him back against Tony.

“Oof,” Tony says, hands rising to Steve’s arms to steady them both.

“Sorry. This is Dodger,” Steve says, moving away from Tony and pushing Dodger down with his hand. “I hope you’re not allergic to dogs,” he adds, just as Tony bends down to pat Dodger’s head.

“Hey little buddy,” Tony coos , and Steve balls his hands into fists because he feels it now, more than ever, that oh no feeling that signals he’s going to fall in love with this person, if he hasn’t already.

Steve quickly rearranges some things while Tony is distracted, and then runs to the closet to grab towels and shirts.

“Here,” he says, handing Tony one of each.

“Thanks,” Tony says, straightening back up. Dodger bumps his head against Tony’s leg affectionately as Tony dries off his hair.

“I’m not sure if the shirt will fit you,” Steve says. “But the bathroom’s over there.” He points over for Tony to see.

Tony hums in response, bending down to pet Dodger again.

Steve feels a chill run through his body from the cold, and peels off his shirt, wiping himself down before putting another one on. He’s not even thinking about it, doesn’t aim for seduction, which is why he startles when Tony whistles.

“Here I was thinking I was invited up for coffee.” Tony grins suggestively. 

Steve blushes. “I could still make you a pot, if you want,” he says, feeling a bit brave as he moves toward Tony.

Tony shrugs. “Plenty of other ways to keep me up,” he says.

Steve smiles, and contemplates the strange karmic forces at work as he inches closer to Tony.

Tony smiles down at him, and Steve wants to draw that smile, the way the sides of his eyes crinkle up, the dusting of stubble around his well shaved beard, the swell of his lower lip. He reaches slowly up to rest his hand right where Tony’s jaw meets his neck, and Tony lets out a soft breath. Steve looks up at Tony, and pulls him in for a kiss.

[thewolfisawake]

Critical Role

Favorite character:

In CR1, Percy and Scanlan. And gonna sound so hipster but I did legitimately like Percy prior to the Briarwood arc. I liked his place as the more subdued person that didn’t need fanfare for his support. And then I was scared and intrigued when he was more...forthcoming in that arc since he was quieter before (I think I read this was also because Taliesin was bit shy starting out but got comfortable). And Scanlan, was the man I shed tears for because I kept crying ‘oh god, someone please notice. Someone HELP HIM.’ They both had some serious gut punches and their stories did shift the dynamics (of the story and the party respectively) permanently. They are also great support and yet also had some amazing solos. 

In CR2, Caleb and Fjord. I just like me some sad boys apparently. I think Caleb’s bumbling and trying to do right but struggling with doing what’s good for you so painfully relatable. As of writing this, I haven’t caught up yet but I’ve seen him make such leaps and bounds in terms of letting people in and being a support to others. I also think mechanically he’s a show of how the drawbacks like his fear can make for good moments. As for Fjord, he’s just in general how I think a moral compass or herder character can be done without irritating both the player and viewer. I mean morals of this cast is more wonky but in general Fjord seems to put forward a general ‘we all get through this’ and respect towards the team. 

Least Favorite character:

In CR1, Keyleth. And no, it’s got nothing to do with Marisha. She’s cool. I honestly felt bad for her because Keyleth had to pick up the moral slack whenever Pike wasn’t there, which was often. Some of her best moments were when she had to draw the hard line. But it was far outweighed with having this moral high horse for some reason even though they promptly do something just as low down as the ones she looked down on. Also, I feel it’s hard to do a character that is naive but also very likable so again, sorry for Marisha. 

In CR2, I like so many but I’ll go with Mollymauk. And it was a bit of a shame because he was like the one person I heard so much about. I did like that he was the one that tended to push into some of the best shenanigans I’ve listened to. However, he was just fine. There wasn’t much to push him into love him so much nor much to say I dislike him. I’m a little disappointed of not being able to know what his deal was I guess was what I would choose if I have to say what made him least favorite. 

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Vax’limore - Their interactions just oozed banter and playfulness. There was no intro to how that this happened, it just jumps into their flirtations. And it was that cute banter and the real ‘I’d do anything for you, my friend’ that ended up hurting seeing Gilmore have his heart strings pulled as they did. Like if you love him, let him go. For real. Don’t dangle it in front of him like that. 

Pike/Percy - Weird thought but I thought it was pretty clear that Pike liked Percy. Everyone sees her as a stalwart beacon but she still has wants and falls off from time to time. But she tries. And she saw something within Percy that was dark and I don’t think it was necessarily ‘I want to fix him’ but ‘I want to save him.’ And Percy find a light in Pike like many do but also seeing her as just Pike.  

Perc’ahlia - I mean, it’s canon. Thing is that I can’t pinpoint a moment when it began. Just that it happened and that felt okay. I think they’re both maniacs in their own right and it’s kind of cute how they indulge each other’s passion/excitement. Gifts feels like Percy’s love language and he shows it so much in how he tinkers for Vex and her glee in what new way she can fuck shit up is enough for him. And also it’s really delicious the parallel with them and the Briarwoods and Laura has stated that if Percy had died died, that it was possible Vex end up the same kind of menace Delilah was. 

Vex/Zahra - In some other life, they would have been the femme fatale couple. All of their interactions were enjoyable and they so clearly enjoy each other. Just looking over and it’s the eyes with them.

Widobrave - Partners in crime. I think that their dynamic isn’t simple and that’s what’s so interesting. They see each other as someone to protect and don’t exactly see how the other views them as the one to be protected. And they have ‘without question’ sort of trust in each other and are genuinely awed and so happy when they witness one do something great. It gets sad with more of their backstory. And it gets me that both immediately felt guilty for keeping it a secret from them. Not the entire party, their partner. They both have seen past appearances and see the strength, the zaniness and the brilliance the other possesses and I can’t wait to get to more of their moments. 

Character I find most attractive:

CR1: Gilmore. My god he was gorgeous. Vax why did you just walk away from that? Raishan. Look, she was hot and smart and even if she fell eventually, she made the most of when she was there. 

CR2: Cali is so frickin’ adorable. Like she’s so cute and hey, if not for the whole cult chasing her thing, it’d be nice to stick around and sightsee. I am also a ‘Jester is really cute’ person.

Character I would marry:

I don’t really think there’s anyone I’d actually--well, I think maybe Pike because stronk lady that can get into mischief with but at the same time just be able to be content with.

No one in this campaign so far. 

Character I would be best friends with:

I would LIKE to be friends with Cassandra because everyone continues to ignore how this woman has been tormented and then thrust into very important position. All while harboring guilt for what she had to do to survive. The girl needs a break and I’m here with a blanket and some tea.

I would like to be friends with Nott actually. She’s really cool and I think it’s fun to let her be her zany self. 

a random thought:

So who is really credited as the inventor of firearms, Percy, who did technically make it, or Ripley, who is the one that sold the schematics to make them mass-produced? 

Is there just an abundance of mysterious magic ladies in Wildemount or what? 

An unpopular opinion:

Scanlan deserved his anger and feelings of being unappreciated. Even if he was brought back, it does not lessen that there was uncertainty nor the lack of respect towards his body. Vox Machina had gotten cocky and it drove one of their members away. Vex and Vax were the only ones that took Scanlan’s frustration to heart and did not mess up with Tary for that reason. Also Tary was a parallel of the worst of the party, which is why most of them couldn’t stand him. 

The small races are not fucking children. I don’t get why they get called children or thought of like that. They’re just short, goddammit!

My Canon OTP:

CR1: Perc’ahlia for above reasons.

CR2: None to be seen so far?

My Non-canon OTP:

CR1: Because I’m hella fucked up, I am enamored by the thought that Percy had a crush on Ripley. Because she paid attention to him, one of the younger and less interesting of his family. And to him she was brilliant and she took advantage of that, which is how he survived or why they got in. And Percy never forgot or forgave her. 

CR2: “And they were roommates” “oh god they were roommates.” * whispers * I kind of liked Fjord and Molly. They felt like foils that were amicable with each other aaaaannndddd actually had nice interactions? 

Most Badass Character:

CR1: NO MERCY PERCY

CR2: Shakaste is pretty awesome and Khary Payton is awesome. 

Most Epic Villain:

CR1: Raishan. Like I wish she could’ve been a bigger villain but alas the dice were not on her side. I think her arc was the most interesting as she was the true threat in the party’s eyes despite there being a dragon terraforming their home. 

CR2: At this point? There hasn’t been a major villain for the party.  

Pairing I am not a fan of:

I don’t really have anything I can’t ship in this one.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Can’t really say anyone ‘screwed up’ since this is a lot of improv and all that. So I guess miss chances I think would only really be Molly since y’know, he’s dead. 

Favourite Friendship:

CR1: Pike & Grog - They’re Best Buddies, y’all. I can’t get over how much they just pal around like that’s just the usual for them. And technically it is. They can go get wasted together and then kick ass after. It’s just the casualness of their relationships and how much respect and lack of reverence that I like. Pike is just Pike to Grog so he finds no reason to hold back or hold her as a light unlike the rest of the party. But he does want to do good by her because she’s his friend and he doesn’t want to disappoint her. And Pike never insults Grog’s intellect and actively works to help him improve and deflects the party’s remarks of how he is. 

CR2: Empire Kids - They’ve come a long way from their seats of mistrust and standoff-ishness. I think there was a post that put it best that they’re ‘learning how to human.’ And because they both are at the same point of it, they are struggling together. As a result they’ve come to lean on each other to keep themselves from going to far. They’re not perfect but they’re trying to keep this found family of theirs together. 

Character I most identify with:

CR1: Keyleth. Being the one to try to keep people together or on the straight on narrow isn’t easy. It sucks and I’m not usually the person that should do it but here I am.

CR2: Caleb. I am very off-beat and odd but I do want to have friends and the like....just not stellar at showing that...

Character I wish I could be:

I mean, this is D&D where awesome shit goes on all the time. So anyone I guess?

[kylo-v]

Under the Big Top: Chapter 1

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Minor Sexism

Synopsis: Reader gets her first murder case

*******************************************************

One week later.

It was your first case in a few months. The last one had been such a bust and word got around that it stifled your work for weeks. Thankfully Morrison had been kind enough to let you float by on some of his earnings, but that was wearing thin. Your stomach growled loudly as you approached the mildly extravagant mansion. It's even bricks and elegantly cared for shrubbery intimidated you slightly. You barely had a concept of this amount of money being a single working woman with sparse money making opportunities. All you had eaten in the last few days were a few cups of coffee, stale bread, and a handful of potatoes and carrots. God you were sick of potatoes. God you hoped your stomach would embarrass you during the meeting. Maybe he would even feed you. You made a note to yourself to not devour anything like an animal if offered to you.

You straightened the lapelles of your jacket and pressed down the wild strands of your long, long hair. Morrison had thrown you a bone with this case, not like it was much of his choice. The client had specified that he wanted a woman’s touch when it came to this one. You wondered what that meant… You knew it was a murder case, and pretty brutal as you had seen the pictures of the body, but nothing that shocked you to your core. Shaking the thoughts away and calming your anxiety, you reached for the lion headed door knocker and knocked three times. Still the anxiety crept back up your spine as you waited for an answer. You pulled a thread off your sleeve and refixed your cufflinks. You grimaced as you looked down and noticed your shoe was untied, but before you could bend over to tie it a penguin of a man opened the door. His nose was held higher than any other part of his body as he looked down his glasses at you with slight distaste. You were used to this at this point, men didn’t appreciate seeing a woman wearing men’s clothing.

“I’m Private Investigator (Y/N) Caulfield. I have a meeting with Dr. Thompson this afternoon,” you say with confidence. You had rehearsed this at least twelve times in the mirror this morning and internally patted yourself on the back when you didn’t stumble over a single word.

“I know who you are. Right this way,” the man said with slight disdain as he moved himself to the side to allow you to step into the mansion. 

The mansion might not have looked lavish on the outside, but the inside was a different story. The walls were papered with purple and red patterns that reached to the tops of the high ceilings. The furniture was all made of heavy, polished mahogany and decorated with accents of gold. You were directed to a grand staircase and greeted by a cinnamon colored cocker spaniel. She approached you cautiously and barked in response when you attempted to reach down and pet her. 

“She bites,” the man, who you now assumed was Dr. Thompson’s butler, barked in the same tone as the dog. 

“Now, now, Abraham,” a voice broke the awkwardness. At the top of the stairs was a sloppily put together man, “Is this anyway to treat our guest?” He was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and beard and tired, aged blue eyes.

“My apologies, Dr. Thompson,” the butler replied, straightening himself but unable to hide the weariness in his tone. You glanced at Dr. Thompson and noticed his misbuttoned jacket and uncombed hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days but given the nature of this case, you understood his disheveled appearance. 

“Let’s talk in my office, Mrs. Caulfield. Come on, Maggie,” he beckoned the cocker spaniel who followed him obediently. 

“It’s Miss Caulfield, Dr. Thompson. I’m not married,” you huffed slightly. This was something that always annoyed you but couldn’t be helped, you supposed. 

“Oh, my apologies, Miss Caulfield. I was under the impression that Morrison was your husband,” he replied as he held the door open to his office, allowing you inside. Maggie cut you off first and darted in to hop into her dog bed seated by the desk.

“Yes, that is usually everyone’s first impression…” you sighed slightly while you take a seat directly across from Dr. Thompson’s chair. You took a quick glance around the room. Fine, leather bound books and scattered items collected on the bookshelves around you and paper files were stacked neatly on the desk in front of you. The walls were littered with diplomas, awards, and a few pieces of unremarkable artwork of landscapes. Hanging at the opposite wall of the desk is a taxidermied boar’s head with wonky eyes and you have to control an outburst of laughter at the state of this poor creature, whose one eye is looking to China and the other to Antarctica. 

“My first big kill. I used a Wincester ‘94 to clock the bastard in the skull,” Dr. Thompson said with confidence when he caught you staring at the boar’s head for far too long.

“I don’t know much about animal hunting, Dr. Thompson,” you said politely, not looking to engage in any more small talk.

“Right, right…” Dr. Thompson gaped for a minute but cleared his throat as he took a seat in the large armchair on the other side of his desk. 

“Onto business,” you say as you pull out a hand notebook and a pen from the breast pocket of your jacket.

“Are you aware of the nature of this case, Miss Caulfield?” Dr. Thompson asked cautiously as he reached down to pat Maggie on her little sleeping head.

“I am. These types of cases have not stopped me before. Murder, 23 year old female found in the woods, mutilated and dismembered. Police investigate and rule it murder by hitchhiker but the culprit is never found.”

“Good, Morrison updated you well.”

“Thank you, I did all the research myself,” you retorted casually without looking up from your notes. Dr. Thompson couldn't help but smile slightly.

“Do you know why I asked you to get involved, Miss Caulfield?” 

“No, sir,” you said as your stomach growled with slight persistence, though you ignored it.

“I requested you because this case is...sensitive,” Dr. Thompson pursed his lips nervously. He reached down and opened a drawer in his desk, after a moment of shuffling around he pulled out a file folder. He laid the folder on the desk and retrieved two small, black and white pictures from it and handed them to you. Each photo was of a blurry portrait of a man, who at first glance could have been mistaken for one person but closer inspection proved otherwise. Both men had the same brisk white grey hair though in one picture one had it slicked back as opposed to down in the other. As you examined closer you realized these men were brothers, not just brothers but twin brothers. You could tell by the face structure, but the one with long hair had a stronger jaw and a small twisted mustache. He was smirking cockily in the photo, while the other man had a piercing and serious gaze. It sent shivers down your spine in an uncomfortable way.

“These men are called Dante and Vergil Sparda. They run a circus by the name of Devil May Cry. The body was found not even a mile from the circus grounds though police could make no connection between them and the murder. Many of the eye witnesses claimed that they saw a man wandering around the campgrounds that they didn’t recognize. The police wanted to wrap the case up quickly and just pinned it on this supposed "interloper". Appearantly they have other things to worry about than the murder of a "whore",” Dr. Thompson said spitefully. You glanced up at him through your lashes and could see his hands clenched into fists on the top of the desk.

“She meant something to you…” you said in a calm tone while you carefully slide the two photos back to him. His fists unclenched and he visibly intended his shoulders. He sighed and nodded his head regretfully.

“She was my lover…” Dr. Thompson paused, “I...I tried to get her out of that lifestyle and bring her here but the man she worked for wouldn’t let her and we would have to meet in secret. I loved Marie, I truly did...” His voice cracked slightly and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Your eyes softened with sympathy and you bit your lip gingerly. This was the shit that really got to you…

“And you think these men are involved somehow?” You point to the pictures lying untouched on the desk. Dr. Thompson inhaled deeply to compose himself and nodded. 

“The night before Marie was murdered, she told me that she would be gone for a few days while she and three other girls entertained here,” he opened the file folder from earlier and handed you a flyer from the circus. It depicted a black lion roaring with the words Devil May Cry circus coming out of its mouth. Scrawled across the bottom is the location of the grounds and dates. It seemed that they would only be stationed in their current location for 2 more weeks, and there was no telling where they would go after that.

“Marie wasn’t murdered by an interloper, she was murdered by someone or something on these grounds,” Dr. Thompson said deadly seriously, “It’ll be dangerous, so make allies. Are you still up for this? I’ll pay you anything, please.”

You pondered for a moment. The stakes in this case were much higher in this case than any other one you had had before, but the paycheck was nice and something seemed to...pull you in. Your stared at the picture of the black lion for an extended period of time. It’s shadowy fur seemed to glisten with purple and it’s fierce eyes drew you in with its amethyst intensity. For a moment, you had to remind yourself it was just a drawing. 

“Why me?” You asked as you gathered the flyer and pictures into the file folder to take with you. Dr. Thompson smiled sadly at your quiet acceptance.

“I just wanted someone who would care…” he said solemnly. 

After half a payment in advance and a few signed contracts, the case was yours. The gold in your pocket weighed heavy in your trousers and tugged your suspenders tight against your shoulders. You didn’t care. You had enough money to buy ten pairs of suspenders if you wanted! You laughed gleefully and marched proudly towards the end of the driveway where Morrison was waiting for you in his car.

“Seems things went well,” Morrison smiled cockily, the smoke from his cigarette swirling the inside of the car.

“You betcha! First case in months and it’s something worth my time,” you said as you climb into the passenger seat of the clunky old Model T. You splayed the file folder in your lap and scanned over the notes once again. It contained police reports, eyewitness testimonies, and a few extra photos of the workers. You picked up a photo shoved between a bundle of papers clipped together. It showed a dark haired man with plush lips and calm eyes. The picture was a full body and showed off his neck and arms that were covered in intricate tattoos. Sat atop his shoulder was a mighty bird with a piercing gaze and at his feet was the same black lion from the flyer. Again you felt that same pull you felt earlier when staring at the drawing of the lion. You flipped the photo over and written on the back was just a simple letter. 

V… 

What was this pull? You didn’t know, but you were determined to suppress it.

[pellicano-sanguino]

Still October, more vampire posts.

I have a bad habit of being unreasonably bitter about the fact that back in my days as a young vampire lover, vampire fiction wasn’t as popular as it is today. I know I shouldn’t be such a whinelord about it and be just happy that I get to enjoy the abundance of vampiric goodies now, better late than never. But every now and then I bump into a new book/movie/series/thing and my immediate reaction is “Little Pellicano would have loved this, man I missed out!”

I’ve complained about the scarcity of vampire fiction in my teens, but the pickings weren’t very great for vampire stuff for kids either. There were some vampire characters written for a child audience but most of them were vampires in name only, being really watered down and tamed “kid friendly” versions of the creatures of the night (I tip my hat at Angela Sommer-Bodenburg, she had the guts to have her vampires actually drink blood), and they were drawn as ugly, “cute” caricatyres.

However, the vampires in my imagination weren’t some cutesy, cartoony gremlins that drink tomato juice. They were graceful and regal and mysterious, clad in ornate old timey costumes and silently sneaking around the candle-lit corridors of old, haunted castles. 

To make this image of beautiful and dangerous noble vampires, I had to make them myself. One way to do this was to take colouring book pictures of princes and princesses and draw fangs on them and leave their skin uncoloured to give it the pale, bloodless look.

(my childhood colouring books were thrown away, this pic is from a book I coloured as a teen, to demonstrate how I turned princes and princesses into vampires.)

This was how it had to be done, because there weren’t any colouring books with vampires in them. But...   guess what I bumped into when looking for vampire books?

A vampire-themed colouring book full of vampires of the Graceful Mysterious Creature of the Night type that I had to resort to recolouring princesses to get to. Where was this when I was little?!? I’ve been robbed!

Let’s not judge the book by its covers, thought. The cover looks promising but the art could still be awful. So, let’s have a look at some of the pages.

Moping in the woods while showered in moonlight / crying for your donor. That’s a recurring theme in this book btw, vampires crying while embracing their donors. His (I think it’s a he, based on the eyebrows, though what do I know, it could be a vampiric Frida Kahlo) donor looks really bored, though. Like she wants to say “Food time now, angsting about the parasitic nature of vampirism later.”

Oh hi, Bela Lugosi! Long time, no see and such. Still got your trademark hand thing going on, I noticed. But there’s something...   kinda wonky about your hands, sorry to say. I don’t think that’s how your fingers are supposed to look like.

Ok, this one I genuinely like a lot. It’s beautiful and I adore the Mucha-like noodly hair.

Wolfman spies on a vampire lady spying on Skeletor. Layers within layers. Crystalballception.

Hello, Edward! Like your gloves. But what the hell did Bella drink and/or smoke, she looks drunk as a lord.

Speaking of drunk, the artist really shouldn’t draw faces looking directly at the viewer, because they often end up looking like, well, this. This is not regal, this is a drunken lady asking for a dance at the club while leaning on you to stay on her feet.

I know the scale-like pattern is probably just part of the altar-thingy behind her, but it kinda looks like it could come from under her dress and therefore make her a keatsian lamia. I coined the term “keatsian lamia” to differ the stupid sexy snake ladies from the lamias found in bestiaries (where they are four-legged scaly sphinx-like creatures), because I think Keats is to blame for people depicting lamias as serpent monsters (since the original myths about lamias don’t depict their monstrous body in detail, it’s been up to interpretations). I personally prefer bestiary lamias over keatsian ones, but I still like to imagine the vampire in this picture has a serpent tail, allowing us to have some variety by including a much rarer vampiric monster in the book.

I laid down over a brick wall among the blackberries and stared at people awkwardly while two birds of prey played with my jewelry. What did you do last weekend?

Wow. What a masterpiece. I can’t decide which detail I love most: the heraldic bats springing to life and escaping the boundaries of their coat-of-arms-prison or the donor tiptoeing like a freaking ballerina. I thought no blood drinking pose could top the awkward floaty blood drinking scene from Meg Tilly’s Carmilla, but this one? Even less functional.

Well, I’ll end this with another piece that I actually like. Very pretty couple. I told you, the vampires crying over their donors was going to be a thing.

Some of the art is a bit silly, but I would have loved a colouring book like this when I was younger. But you know what, who says colouring books are just for kids? I may end up colouring some of these cool blood drinkers and their lovely donors.

[strawclette]

Sorrow of the Arrogant

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Characters: Pride (Selim Bradley), Mrs. Bradley, Wrath (King Bradley)

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,122

Summary: When Pride grieves over the death of his sister, his mother comes as a wonderful source of comfort.

AN: So this is the first time I’ve ever written a fanfic, so it might be a little wonky. Tell me what you think (I’d appreciate constructive criticism, not just rude comments). It’s not beta’d so there might be a few grammar/spelling mistakes in there. If you find anything, just tell me so I may fix it. Also I had no idea what the title should be, haha. 

She’s dead.

Sitting up in bed, Pride stared blankly at the wall across from him. There was a decently sized bookshelf with an unusual variety of children’s novels, alchemical texts, and other assorted non-fiction books. Next to the shelf was a wooden desk where he kept journals full of random drawings of alchemic circles and his favorite alchemist Edward Elric. Absently, he remembered he’d need to buy a new journal since the one he currently used was almost full.

How?

The Flame Alchemist. A young Colonel, the hero of Ishval and a growing thorn in their side. A possible human sacrifice, according to Wrath. He was of use to them, as irritating as he was, and with the number of allies he kept close, it would be stupidly easy to manipulate him into doing whatever he wanted. Letting him walk away was the right choice. He could be of use to Father. That was all that mattered. Wrath did the right thing. But, why…

Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you let her die? You were there, you could have done something, so why didn’t you? You could have taken control of the situation, sent the Colonel and his mutt and the armor boy away. She didn’t have to die.

Lust.

His shadows shivered inside of his container, trembling with… something. He was not angry. He could not be angry. Grabbing onto the feeling, Pride tried searching for what it was. He couldn’t stand this feeling. Maybe if he could figure it out, it would just go away. No. Pride wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was, what it had to be, but acknowledging it was impossible because if he did he might… he might…

Hiccuping a sob, the oldest homunculus quickly covered his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut tight to hold back the tears threatening to fall. He couldn’t cry, he just couldn’t. He was Pride the Arrogant, the first homunculus created by Father, he was much too old to be crying like some weak human child. But it soon became clear that trying to choke it down would be a wasted effort as he found his body wracked with grief. An immense sorrow forced tears from his eyes and shook his body with continuous sobs. It was such a disgusting feeling. The thought of any of his siblings seeing him in such a pitiful state had his shadows curling in shame inside of his container.

Perhaps it wasn’t just shame. They writhed beneath his skin, shaking his container in times with the sobs that escaped him. Grabbing a pillow, he buried his face to try to muffle his crying. What would Wrath think if he saw his eldest brother in this state, while he had just finished so calmly informing him of their only sister’s death? After what he did, or what he didn’t do, being pitied by Wrath would be disgraceful.

In this state, Pride failed to hear a quiet knock at his door, neither did he notice the concerned older woman who entered. She had heard him crying, or perhaps it was a motherly instinct that had compelled her to come here. The reason didn’t really matter.

“Selim?”

Pride startled, quickly looking up from his pillow towards the door. Illuminated from the hallway lights, his mother’s silhouette stood cautiously in the doorway, her brow puckered and a worried frown on her face. There was a hint of confusion, but it seemed that why he was crying was less important than her intense need to comfort him, at least for the moment. Stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind her, she briskly walked over to his side, turning on his bedside lamp before sitting down beside him. Pride struggled to keep his composure, but it was a losing battle. As soon as her eyes met his, he broke down again.

Scooting closer, she scooped his small body into her arms, running her fingers through his soft raven hair as she gently shushed him.

“My dearest, what’s wrong? What’s gotten you so upset?” she asked, pulling him tighter against her.

His head resting on her breast, Pride focused desperately on the steady, if slightly quickened, beat of her heart. After gulping down a few shaky breaths, he managed to stutter out the only excuse he could think of for his confusing behavior, “I-I ha-had a bad-a bad dr-dream.”

“Oh, oh you poor dear,” she cooed, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. As he continued to shake with violent sobs, she began to hum softly to him, an old song she remembered her own mother singing to her whenever she got upset when she herself was just a child.

Mrs. Bradley grew more concerned the longer he cried. What kind of awful dream could he have had to be this upset? Selim never cried, not even when he got hurt. It was bizarre. But she would stay and sing as long as he needed. It was a good twenty or so minutes before he even began to calm down, but somehow she knew he wasn’t feeling much better. At least now she could try to figure out the details of this dream.

“It must have been an awful dream,” she began, stating what she thought was rather obvious, “whatever was it about?”

“I-” Pride began. He hesitated for a long time. It wasn’t like he could tell her the truth, and if he was being completely honest with himself he was far too exhausted to even attempt to create some story. Perhaps it would be easier to just pretend like he didn’t want to talk about it. She would understand, and it would give him a chance to come up with something convincing for the inevitable moment when she would ask him again tomorrow. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled pathetically.

Unsurprisingly, she seemed unsatisfied with that answer, but he knew she wouldn’t pry anymore. He had cried enough for one night.

“Alright,” she relented. After giving him another tight squeeze, she brushed back the hair on his forehead, compelling him to look up at her face. Her wrinkles looked even more defined as she frowned, but she quickly hid her worry with a gentle, calming smile. “It’s okay, dear, it was just a dream, after all. It’s alright.”

Letting out a hiccup, he pushed his face against her shoulder, nuzzling the soft fabric of her shawl. She gave his back a soothing scratch.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall back asleep?” she asked.

Pride hesitated. He did want her to stay, but then Wrath would get suspicious. He might come by to see where his wife had gone, and if he saw Pride like this…

“No,” he finally answers. “I’m… I’m okay.”

His mother looked unconvinced, but she nodded. Pulling away, she leaned down to give him one last kiss before wiping the still drying tears from his eyes. “Well, you know you can always come find me if you change your mind,” she told him.

Pride smiled gently. “I know, mother. I will,” he said quietly.

Nodding again, Mrs. Bradley stood up from his bed. Walking back over to his door, she gave him one final look before stepping out and shutting it with a quiet click. As Pride slipped back into his sheets and closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but admit that he did feel a little bit better. Just a little. Pushing away any more thoughts of Lust, he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

“There you are,” Wrath said as his wife stepped into the room. Her face was lined with worry, and the homunculus thought with a hint of anger that Pride had something to do with it. Why did his eldest brother always feel the need to worry her? Perhaps he hoped to send her to an early grave.

“Yes, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, love,” she smiled. Oh, how her smile made all the anger melt away. He couldn’t help but return it as she walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. “It was Selim, he said he had a bad dream.”

“A bad dream?” he asked, curious and once again angry.

“Mhm, he was so upset that he was crying. I must have held him for at least half an hour before he calmed down. The poor thing,” she sighed. She brought one hand up to her cheek, gazing at the floor and no doubt thinking of her precious son.

Wrath grit his teeth, but forced himself to calm down. Wait, did she just say he was crying? That was… odd. “He was crying?”

“Oh, he was. Absolutely inconsolable. I can’t even imagine what kind of dream would have caused him to behave that way,” she fretted.

That was really odd. In fact, it was downright disturbing. The image of his older brother sobbing like a baby might have made him laugh if his wife wasn’t so worried over him. Because of that, it just made him angry. Wrath considered marching into his brother’s room to confront him when another thought occurred to the youngest homunculus. Envy and Gluttony had also been rather upset by the news of their sister’s death. The shapeshifter may not have been crying, but he had clearly been upset. It was almost hypocritical, demanding revenge on the Flame Colonel when Mustang was so much more useful to them alive. Envy almost sounded like those irrational, pitiful humans he claimed he so despised. Not that Wrath would ever say that to his face.

Was it possible that Pride was crying over the death of his sister? It was strange to imagine his brother having any kind of emotions at all, given his constant need to insist that he didn’t have any.

The thought that Pride might actually be feeling grief over this left Wrath feeling a bit conflicted. He didn’t feel particularly bad about letting Lust die, no, that wasn’t the problem. He had always imagined his eldest brother as nothing but cold and ruthless. Was it possible that he actually cared? And if that was the case, then was it possible he could care about…

Turning his head he looked at his wife’s profile. She still looked worried, but that wasn’t surprising. No doubt she would lose sleep over this incident, but in the morning all would be well when Pride would bounce around the dining room as though his so-called dream never happened. She might pry, but it would be forgotten quickly.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Wrath put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about,” he told her.

The reassured smile she gave him told him he had said exactly what she wanted to hear.

Just as Wrath predicted, Pride was back to his usual self. He ate breakfast with a smile on his face, and when Wrath stood up to leave for work he wrapped his arms around him and made him promise to try to get back from work as soon as possible.

Mrs. Bradley smiled happily at her son. She was glad he was feeling better. It had been hard falling asleep last night, and she had woken up several times in the night. A few times she had even walked over to peek into her son’s room, just to make sure he hadn’t woken up from another nightmare.

After finishing breakfast, they both retired to the family room. Since it was a Saturday, Selim got a break from his lessons. His tutor was a strict woman but was kind enough not to load her student with too much homework. It meant he could spend a lot more time with his mother. Plucking a book from the shelf, she sat down on the couch next to her son. He leaned against her as she read.

As his mother spoke, Pride didn’t bother listening to her words. His mind was too preoccupied. That morning it had occurred to him that there was no reason to grieve over his sister’s death because she wasn’t gone forever. Once Father finally achieved his goal and became a god, he would certainly bring her back. They could be a family again.

Smiling at the thought, he glanced up at his mother, beaming at her. Maybe Father could make another exception, for Wrath’s sake of course. When she finally noticed him looking at her, she paused in her reading to give him a bright smile.

[avadahallows]

Free as a Paper Crane

This is a run on that accidentally happened whilst I was in the middle of writing my last post! Oops

He hadn’t meant to become obsessed.

He found the tutorial book in the bottom of a chest he had shoved in his closet when he had turned eleven. That’s when he had decided that his childhood was over.

Inside the chest were piles of toys, books and games. It was a chest of his childhood.

It was a night when the screams in the manor seemed a little louder than usual and Nagini seemed to be around every corner. Draco had needed a break, as he often did. So, he went through his usual routine:

Closing his blinds

Casting several locking charms

Casting a muffliato and a silencio

Getting out of his horribly stiff suit and putting on his muggle sweatpants

Putting on a soft acoustic record

Lighting some candles

Sitting on his bed and breathing

After that point he would usually take a bath, read, draw.

Today though, he decided to let himself have a little self-pity and feel appropriately sad for what he’d become and the situation he’d found himself in. So, he walked over to his closet and took out the old chest, examining the objects of his most innocent years.

He uncovered several toys and games, and mourned his years as a child without responsibilities. Mourned the years when death was only something he knew to happen to old, distant relatives. Soon, he came across a pile of books. He sorted through them carefully until he was holding an origami tutorial book. It had been a present he’d received but never ended up using. As he flipped through the pages, he became increasingly interested. He found a page with a beautiful paper crane and he knew he had to try it.

So, he found some parchment and went about recreating the crane. The first one he made looked a little wonky, it’s neck and bit too long and it’s head far to small. The second one had one wing twice the size of the other. But after that, he began to create little cranes that looked half-alright while wrapped up in the vanilla scent of his room when it smelt like blood outside and the soft guitar strumming instead of the screams.

He had made twenty cranes that night, a relaxing activity that gave his mind something simple, easy, manageable to focus on.

He hid them all in his closet and the next day he made twenty more before also hiding those in his closet.

It became a bit of an obsession, one of the only things that kept Draco sane (well, sane might be a bit hopeful considering most people did not make hundreds of paper cranes only to shove them into their closet) in the midst of a war that partly took place in his own home, a war that he was on the wrong side of.

When he ran out of room in his closet, he began to worry. Should he start filling up his bathroom? Should he start shoving them under his bed? Should he stop?

Then, he remembered that in the book there was a spell to make the paper cranes fly. So, his new obsession became charming all these cranes. A task harder than expected because as soon as he charmed even ten of them, it was impossible to keep them all in the closet.

But soon enough, he found a method and managed to charm every single one. Well, except one. He was charming the last one when there was a knock on his door, demanding and sharp.

He shakily shoved the still crane into his closet. He turned off his record, blew out his candles, struggled quickly out of his sweatpants and threw on a robe.

He opened the door to see Lucius.

“It’s time.” There was a maniac smile on his face.

Draco’s stomach churned. Something was happening and he immediately knew it wasn’t good.

“For what?” Draco asked in as stable a voice as he could.

“The final battle. Potter’s at Hogwarts. It’s time,” he laughed. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes and apparating into Hogsmeade.”

Draco nodded and closed his door.

He ran to his bathroom, heaved up his dinner, and then promptly got dressed in another stiff suit.

There was blood, so much blood. He was battling the people he stood with before the sorting ceremony, when they were all eleven and didn’t know what was coming. He was battling the girl he did a charms project with in fifth year and the Hufflepuff boy he had admired many times during dinner but never bothered actually speaking to. He was battling the people he grew up with. Maybe he wasn’t the one throwing the killing curse around like a lumos but he was on their side. It was terrifying.

His true home, Hogwarts, turned into a war-zone around him and Potter, Harry, please win, Draco thought to himself as Potter jumped out of Hagrid’s arms. Please, not for Draco but for the children Draco had seen crying in the corners of Hogwarts as he ran through the corridors, dodging curses and for the muggleborns he saw be tortured and killed in front of his very eyes.

And, that’s exactly what Potter did; he won.

A few days later brought Draco back to the Manor. The Ministry hadn’t bothered to collect him yet as his trial wasn’t for countless homicides like many people currently on the run around England. Besides, the Ministry was not exactly a secure establishment with a strong auror force at the minute.

He walked to his room, collecting his essentials so he could leave this Hell and go back to the familial cottage he was staying in.

Then, he remembered the cranes.

He dropped his box of things on his bed before stepping carefully up to the wooden doors. He ran his hands down the mahogany, feeling the dips in the carving reverently before clasping the handles tight.

He opened it with flourish and hundreds of cranes flew around him. It was beautiful. He ran over to his windows, opening them one by one and watching as the cranes escaped the prison Draco had himself been trapped in for the past few months, years. He watched as they flew away and into the country-side and felt like this moment was too symbolic to ignore.

He felt that even more so when he went back to his closet and found the single crane on the floor that hadn't been charmed yet. He suddenly remembered a vague moment from third year, something to do with paper cranes and Potter. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten that after spending hours with hundreds of paper cranes.

Draco knew immediately what he wanted to do.

He grabbed a quill and a scrap piece of parchment.

“I’m sorry.

- Draco”,

he wrote before folding the note delicately and placing it securely into one of the crane’s wings.

He charmed it to fly before adding something else, a charm to take the crane right to Potter, wherever he was because now that Draco himself could fly out of this Hell, establishing the new Draco Malfoy, a free Draco Malfoy, had to start somewhere.