#like he just stands there with his hands by his sides while kendall digs his fingers in his face and does nothing to stop him until kendall

[bitchthefuck1]

I never noticed this before, but in Austerlitz when Logan runs at Kendall like he might hit him, Roman tries to reach out and stop him.

The only other time we see Roman actually try to fight back or intervene is when Kendall tries to grab Shiv in the finale.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 6

a/n: *pukes cutely on floor*

sorry guys I’ve literally been dead

I’ll make it up to you with an extra long chapter next time; I’m sorry for the disappointment that this one is :,)

Word Count: 2.163k

To your dismay, you’re nudged awake in the wee hours of the morning.

“What?” you grit out. You know it’s him without having to look.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off, Roman.”

“Let me explain,” he urges.

“I don’t want to hear it. You promised, you didn’t show, it’s whatever.”

“It’s clearly not whatever, Y/N.”

You roll over so you can glare at him. “I don’t get it, Roman. There’s no need to butter me up and pretend like you like me. I have to help you.”

“What are you even talking about? I do like you.”

“You don’t really act like it anymore.”

”We got caught up in something. I didn’t want to leave you waiting like that. It’s the last thing I wanted, really.”

“And what happened to you that took so fucking long?”

“I can’t say.”

”Yeah. Exactly. Good night, Roman.” You roll back over, keeping your back to him.

There’s a strained moment of silence.

“It was Dad.” His voice comes out barely a whisper. “He landed, and Marcia called me. Said he’d been hospitalized the minute they touched down.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… he said not to tell you. Or my siblings, or anyone. He says that if the press catches on that he’s incapacitated, along with him being removed as CEO, he’s done. You can’t tell anyone, Y/N. You can’t.”

“He trusts you, all of a sudden?”

“I’m the one who didn’t try voting him out.”

You take a moment. Roman not participating in the vote just opened several new doors for you.

You feel bad for acting up. “You should’ve started with that,” you mutter. “I feel like a dick now.”

“I mean, you have the right to. I didn’t text, or call. It’s my fault. I should’ve told him to fuck off and gone straight to you.”

“What’s wrong…?”

“Osteoarthritis in his knees. It’s progressing so fast he can’t bring himself to walk.” He rubs a hand over his eyes.

“Roman, I feel horrible. It’s your dad. You shouldn’t have even been thinking of me.”

“That’s what I told myself, yet here we are.” He lies down next to you. “I was standing there, talking to Marcia, and all I could think of was how I was blowing you off.”

“Ignore what I said earlier. That doesn’t matter.” You shift to face him. “But you should’ve called. Told me, you weren’t coming, at least.”

“Yeah. I should’ve.”

You find it strange that he’s never made a move to kiss you. You want to bring it up, you want to be mad at him about it, but you feel like that’s a conversation for another time.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, really.”

You both sit there in silence for a moment. “Will you make it up to me?”

”How do you want me to do that?”

“I want you to figure it out.”

You end up dozing off on your side, this time facing Roman.

The next few days, the strain between you and him slowly dissipates. He brings you breakfast every morning, making sure you never have to lift a finger. You and Kendall lounge around one of those days, telling work nightmare stories. While he’s the most reserved of the four, you two get along well. You’re both comfortable around the other, and despite his warning the day you met him, you trust him.

Speaking of trust, Greg finally made it. Roman eyes him as he pulls you aside one afternoon while everyone congregates after lunch.

“Enjoying Norway?” you ask, stifling a laugh.

“It’s beautiful. I think I’ll have a great time here.” He throws a cautionary glance over at Roman. “Um, you’ll make sure he doesn’t kill me, right?”

You actually laugh this time. “You’ll be fine, Greg.”

“Anyway.. I’ve had my discussions, and we’re starting to dig. We have a few leads on Logan, and something very promising on Marcia. Thank you for asking me to help. As much as it scares me, I’m having fun.”

“I’m glad you’re at least enjoying yourself. You’re a good person to have on my side, Greg.”

He gives you a small smile. “Oh, and about Connor,” he says suddenly, lowering his voice. “I started making inquiries at a bunch of firms, and, um…” He fiddles with his sweater sleeve. “More than one firm responded when I asked about the progress of ‘Mr. Connor Roy’s lawsuit’.”

Your stomach twists. Along with the jade bracelet, the pieces are starting to come together. “Hey, I hate to keep asking you of things…”

Greg shakes his head. “No, no, go ahead.”

“Is there any chance you have the ability to look into Connor’s finances? Say, last five years?”

“Might take a bit, but that sounds doable.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Greg.” You give his arm a squeeze before rejoining the rest of the family. Everyone’s chatting among themselves, save for Roman, who beckons you over to sit with him on a settee. “Jealous again?”

He makes a face. “Absolutely not.” You know he’s lying.

“You should be. Greg’s great.”

“Moving swiftly on.” He stretches out his arms, looping one around you after you sit. “Like my watch?”

You glance sideways at it, the watch sitting on the wrist he has draped over your shoulder. “Is that…?”

“Yes, ma’am. Connor said I can borrow it.”

“He let you borrow something?”

“That’s our problem here?”

“The worst one, yeah.” You get to your feet, peeling his arm from you. “That and you haven’t done nearly enough groveling to be all touchy feely with me.”

“Y/N,” he whines, catching the hem of your shirt before you can go. “Come on.”

“You have to work for it, Roman,” you chide. “Besides, I have to get ready for Shiv’s dinner.”

“We have to get ready.” He gets up after you as the others make their way upstairs. “We should match,” he mutters to you as he rummages through his suitcases.

You drape a pale mauve dress over your arm, watching him hunt for a dress shirt. “Wear purple, then. You have dark purple somewhere in there.”

You head into the bathroom and change. You try reaching around to lace yourself up, but you can’t quite do it right. “Roman?”

A disgruntled “Huh?” sounds from the bedroom.

“Come help.”

He appears with the dark purple shirt you were talking about tossed over his shoulder, and you quickly register the fact that he’s shirtless. Not that you mind, anyway.

You gesture at the lace up back to your dress.

“Why are these things so complicated?” he mutters, tightening the corset top of your dress. He experiments around with the strings, trying to figure something out. His fingers brush over the bare skin of your back as he ties you into the dress. He manages to finish his handiwork with a cute bow. The dress sits prettily on your body, flattering you and accentuating everything that needs to be accentuated. He sets his hands on your hips and his head on your shoulder, staring at you in the mirror. “Fucking hot.”

“Think about that next time you try to blow me off,” you say lightly. He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Let it go,” he complains.

“Only when I feel like it.”

He presses a barely-there kiss to your shoulder. “Is this progress?”

“Maybe.” You smile at him in the mirror.

“Asshat.” He pulls away, smiling back, and shrugs on the dress shirt. “Oh, darn, I forgot how buttons work. I so desperately need your help.” You huff halfheartedly, pulling him close by his collar. You start systematically buttoning up his shirt, making sure to keep it smoothed out as you go.

The fabric clings to him, his carved abdomen. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t admiring him.

“Like it?” he asks, catching your gaze and grinning stupidly. Your palms glide over his abs.

“You’re decent,” you say, a smile playing at your lips.

“Just decent?” He groans. “Work with me at least. You’re so difficult.”

“Are you going to put in the work, or not?” You’ve both drifted out into the hall, pulling on coats.

“I will,” he says, quieting as Connor and Willa join you in the hall. Greg’s already here, scrolling through his phone, leaning against the wall. You give Willa a friendly wave, and she returns it with a smile. “Con, it’s fucking dinner. You don’t need cuff links ,” Roman says, gently pinching the small of your back. Your eyes flit to Connor’s sleeves. The exact same ones he’d claimed had been stolen.

“It’s important to be elegantly dressed and well presented at all times,” he says hotly. You and Roman exchange a look before Shiv and Kendall finally appear. They’re quietly bickering over something and walk past the lot of you.

You have to applaud Shiv for being able to find this patio. Under the stars, on the beach- you can’t think of anything more beautiful. The air is cool and crisp, and you’re at peace just breathing it in, staring up at the strung fairy lights. Roman idles beside you, watching you more than the scenery.

“Something on my face?”

“No. I just like looking at you.” He elbows you lightly in the side.

“You’re awfully eager.”

“I thought you wanted that.”

“I do.” You fall easily back into your usual banter. You feel bad that you’re still harping on his ghosting you, but for some reason you can’t completely let it go.

Everyone seems to be getting along. Connor hasn’t said anything aggravating, and Roman was in a calm headspace, behaving himself. You, Shiv, and Willa find yourself giggling over yourselves as the night goes on. The food is good, the company is even better, and for a moment you don’t even realize Logan had arrived hunched over a walker.

Silence blankets the patio. Roman sidles up to you, subtly lacing his fingers with yours and gripping hard.

“Dad,” Kendall says stiffly. Logan ignores him, sitting down as soon as he can. You and Shiv exchange a look. “Not feeling well?” Kendall asks carefully.

“Peachy,” Logan rasps.

“Clearly not,” Shiv retorts, her voice ringing. “How nice of you to join us the day before the party.”

He waves her off, then looks to Marcia as she brings him a plate of food. Roman gives the fabric of your dress a tug and uses his head to gesture to the beach. He nudges Shiv, gives her the same look, and drags Kendall with him as he steps off the patio and onto the sand. You and Shiv follow after kicking off your heels.

The sand is cool, and it feels nice on your feet. The four of you walk a little ways away from the patio before Roman turns and says confidently, “Connor’s piss poor.”

“Like, he has no money,” Shiv clarifies. “We went to get coffee one day and his express card declined.”

“Well, that’s not how I know that. But yikes.” Roman hooks his thumbs through his belt loops. “He told me something about blowing all of his money, then we realized he’s filing like seven lawsuits at once…”

“What could he be spending so much money on that he blew his entire inheritance?” Kendall asks. You’d caught him up on your findings on his brother, asking him to keep an eye on him a few days before.

“I asked Greg to look into that. I’m not sure if it’s really going to help, though.”

Roman shrugs. “It’s blackmail.”

“We shouldn’t bleed our hand,” Shiv says. “Y/N was right to propose we leave Connor be and bait dad with it. If he covered real property fraud, I don’t doubt he’ll do the same here.” She glances over her shoulder, catching her father’s gaze. “We should probably go back,” she mutters to Kendall. He gives you an awkward clap on the back before following Shiv back onto the patio.

“I have no idea why he’s out of the hospital,” Roman supplies as soon as his siblings are out of earshot. “He’s up to something.”

“He’s probably just saving face, Rome. Calm down.”

“He didn’t have to come to this dinner. He just had to show up to the engagement party for it to seem normal.” You cross your arms over yourself, shielding yourself from the sudden gust of wind. “And we said we wouldn’t think about this here.”

“Get out of your head, Roman.”

He sighs, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around you. “Let’s just go back.”

You step onto the patio barefooted. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hell, you want to- it’s so damn suffocating. Logan, surprisingly, has his gaze centered on Connor. At least it’s not you. You pull Roman’s jacket tighter around you, watching Connor shuffle uncomfortably while talking to Willa.

“Connor.” Logan’s voice has a haggard quality to it. It wheezes, rasps. “You know you can always come to me for help, right?”

“Yeah. I know, Dad. Right.”

[jarofstyles]

Fan Club V

A/N: We’re sorry in advance for the tears shed whilst reading this part. It hurts. But it ends on a good note 🥺 - n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: ANGST!!!, fluff ✨

word count: 8.5k

Damn. Kendall was stunning in real life, more elegant than Y/N was. But then again, Y/N was the one who got dicked down last night so she walked over to the door with confidence and wrapped her arms around Harry from behind. 

“Everything alright, baby?” She asked, looking up at Kendall with the deadliest stare. She hurt him. A lot. How dare she show up unannounced and uninvited? Knowing full well Y/N was his girlfriend?

Harry wished that he could keep Y/N. He really did because she came to him at a time of rescue. Also, she was very cute when she was angry at someone else. He didn’t look forward to potentially being the reason for that anger after this. 

“Hi, Kiska.” He murmured, kissing the top of her head. Kendall has shown up unannounced as she always did when she heard he was with someone else. After it was confirmed. She didn’t want Harry, but she didn’t want anyone else with him. It was a selfish and manipulative thing but he learned to expect no less. It was embarrassing to think he used to heavily adore her. He was such a good boyfriend to her, and she had laughed in his face. But now it seems she can’t handle the thought. If Kendall really cared about him, her feelings would be crushed right now. It was obvious the both of them had had a wild night of sex. Lipstick was still in his neck and his chest, and her hair was a mess. They both had hickies and she was wearing one of his shirts. More than obvious. “I was trying to figure that out. Kendall decided to stop by even though she knows she shouldn’t be here.”

Y/N looked Kendall up and down, her arms still firmly wrapped around Harry’s waist. She usually wasn’t one for confrontation, but Kendall made Harry uncomfortable and she wasn’t welcome so Y/N would do her best in asking her to leave as politely as possible whilst also telling her to fuck off. 

“Oh? Sorry, I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Y/N, Harry’s girlfriend.” She said, pulling her arms away from him for a moment to shake her hand. “I’m sorry you had to make a trip all this way out here, but now really isn’t a good time.” Y/N spoke as a matter of factly, “tip for next time though, it’s invitation only.” Y/N didn’t mean to be such a snarky bitch, but she felt like she had to be to get the point across. She was the one that showed up to Harry’s door uninvited knowing he’s been seeing someone for four solid months. Y/N felt like she had the right to stick up for Harry, even if he wasn’t her real boyfriend.

Harry was thoroughly surprised with Y/N’s attitude. By god, it was hot as hell. Staking claim on territory, coming down in one of his shirts and covered in his marks. Their swollen lips also clued in to their very rated R results of the night prior. 

“We haven’t met...” Kendall said a little surprised, a bit taken aback with her attitude. 

Not many people gave the princess of reality tv attitude and it was refreshing for Harry to hear. Plus.. not many people stood up for Harry. And Y/N was doing so very easily. It said a ton about her character— which is why what would happen later would suck so fucking much. 

“I just came by to catch up with Harry.” Kendall said, turning to Harry. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, Harry. I just wanted to talk. I know things ended bad...” She gave him a slight puppy face. 

Y/N furrowed her brows at Kendall’s answer. Catch up with Harry huh? What was there to catch up about? She really thought she could stroll in here and win Harry over? Some nerve. What made it worse was that she had no regard for the fact that Y/N was standing right there, asking for another chance from him as if she was better than her. It technically wasn’t Y/N’s business at all, she shouldn’t really be commenting on what did and didn’t happen with Kendall and Harry, but she could tell Harry didn’t want her there and Y/N wanted to do her best to support Harry.

So she stayed quite, watching the interaction unfold before her eyes. Rubbing Harry’s side to show that she was there for him, maybe it would keep his feelings at bay.

“You can’t be serious, Kendall. My girlfriend is right here.” Harry said incredulously. The girl had some goddamn nerve, and Harry wasn’t here for it. “This is really inappropriate. I told you I didn’t want to talk. We have to see each other for things, but I’m not interested in a friendship. Let alone another chance at a relationship. Y/N respects me. Wouldn’t cheat.” A dig.

Kendall cheated on him? That was something  Y/N and many of the fans didn’t know. She couldn’t believe it. Why would anyone ever cheat on Harry? Y/N had just had probably what was the best night of her life last night and Kendall had that at her disposal and just threw it away like that? Talk about a spoiled brat.

“Harry... come on, you know I’m sorry about that.” Kendall groaned. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. You need to get over it. It was a mistake.” It was like she was tired of apologizing but it couldn’t cross Harry's mind. “Listen. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this. I know that you say you’re happy but... are you? It was a mistake. I was bored because you were being boring. The whole thing was fun for a while but I had a little time of being bored so I stepped out and explored. But now I’m ready to try again.”

Harry was thrown over the edge. How dare she? How fucking dare she? His rage was boiling over. He was more so angry that he was doing this in front of Y/N. What if they’d been dating for real? And in Kendall’s kind, they were. 

“I want you to stay away from me, Kendall. Stay away from both myself and Y/N. If I hear you talking about either of us I will sick my lawyers on you in mere seconds.” He was deadly serious. “I’d never cheat on anyone for being bored. You’re a spoiled brat, so out of touch with this world that it’s ridiculous.” His accent got thicker as he spoke to her, anger making it come out. “You wait until I’m with someone and you come to try and take me away. Don’t want me but can’t let anyone else have a chance. You're the worst type of person.”

Y/N couldn’t believe it, she really had just said she cheated because she was bored. What on earth kind of an excuse is that. Y/N wanted to speak, but Harry spoke first, his voice booming. She had always been scared of making him mad and this was why.  Kendall was just a spoiled brat who had way too much time on her hands and had no regard for anyone’s feelings except her own. She did what she needed to do for herself and continued to do so. Even if it means coming all the way to England to make a point. Y/N stood back, still keeping her hand on Harry’s waist to keep him calm. She sensed that Kendall was about to say something else and Y/N cut her off, taking a step in front of Harry. 

“I think it’s time you leave.” Y/N said bluntly and sternly. No way was she going to ruin her perfect lazy off day.

“I flew out here! I—” 

“That’s too damn bad now, isn’t it? Say sorry to the earth for using that fucking jet and messing up the atmosphere.” Harry growled, stepping back with Y/N and closing the door harshly. He gently removed her hand, walking into the kitchen to grab his phone. He could feel Y/N behind him, but he didn’t look her way as he picked up the phone and spoke into it. “You need to make sure Kendall gets it through her head that we aren’t together and we never will be. I want her blacklisted from my shit.” He was so worked up and angry. 

Y/N followed behind him, still keeping a distance because she wanted to make sure she respected his space. She didn’t know how he was when he was angry and if she knew anything about Aquarian’s it was best to leave them alone. She set her hand on him as he spoke on the phone, trying to gauge whether he wanted her there or not but didn’t get a clear response. 

Fuck. This wasn’t a good situation. He had wanted to calmly talk to Y/N and explain to her that this wouldn’t work as more than just distant friends. Because what if he let her in like he had with Kendall? What if she got bored too? What if she was just excited with his life and the parties for now and then got tired? The fears came running to the forefront of his mind. He felt her hand on him again and turned to her, hanging up the phone. His face was still upset, and he desperately wanted to just hide his face in her chest and never leave. She stroked his hair rather nicely last night. 

“I think I need to be alone for a while.” He spoke and it was hollow. And fuck, he was such a bastard because he saw her face fall with confusion as he stepped away from her trying to reach him again. “Listen I... last night was fun. But it can’t happen again. It shouldn’t. We need to stay as we were. You know? It’s just... I’m not good for you, Y/N. I’ve got a lot of issues and you don’t. You’ve got this great life and I’m here with everyone’s head up my ass and I don’t need that.” He swallowed thickly. He rested his hands on the kitchen island, looking down at his feet so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “I know that makes me a bastard. Maybe I am. It was good, but we can’t do anything else. You’re too nice. Too innocent for someone like me. You can’t handle this type of shit, and you shouldn’t have to.” He wasn’t aware that he was essentially making all the decisions for her. He was just terrified and needed her away. Even if it hurt him. “Who knows. You’ll probably get bored of all the glitz and glamor and get bored and want out too. Everyone fucking does. I’m just not it. You need someone calmer.” He huffed. “So yeah. It was fun but, I need to be alone for a little bit. I can see you when we do the bakery and other things, but we need to keep it to that.”

Y/N’s heart fell to her stomach. She felt heavy all of a sudden, like weights had been put on her shoulders and chest. Of course. Of course she couldn’t have it her way? Why would it ever go the way she wanted it to? No matter what she did. She poured her whole heart and soul into last night, meaning every word she said, and every action was intentional. And he just wrote it off as a bit of fun? It was then that she realized that Harry was no different from any man that she had ‘dated’, that he in fact fit in perfectly. It was the same lines every time, ‘you’re too innocent, you’re too nice, you deserve better than me’. It was like a record that just kept repeating in her life. To say the least it shattered her. It was her own fault to, assuming that just because of one incredible night that she could change him.... this wasn’t a fucking fanfic. 

“Right. I understand.” Y/N spoke, her tone having changed significantly. She felt empty, numb. Being used by men was never fun. She stood there in shock for a while, surprised that he was that blunt with her after what had just happened with Kendall. As if he didn’t just experience the same hurt all over again. He had minimized her feelings, essentially made every choice for her as if she was a child who was incapable. Assumed that she would get bored, that she would leave. Presumed that she needed a specific type of someone because, fuck what she wants right? “You should really stop assuming things, Harry. Doesn’t do you any good.” She spoke, looking at him with an expression that was used to hide her hurt. Y/N was heart broken. 

Y/N went back upstairs to find her dress and pack it into a bag, calling the cab service that Jeff said to use whenever she was at Harry’s house, for safety reasons. She was trying her hardest to hold back her tears, trying to make herself look like she wasn’t doing the most tragic walk of shame ever. Harry had prepared a bag of his clothes to take with her for PR purposes, and she found a pair of old gray trackies to put on as well. She rushed down stairs with all her things, barefoot even just so she could get in the car and leave. She had to go.

“Y/N...” Harry’s voice softened as he watched her run down the stairs. She ignored him though— and that’s what hurt. Suppose it served him well. Looking at her face, he could tell she was upset but she seemed more angry right now. Her tone of voice had had him a little shocked. He had expected some reaction, but this was a new side to her. He hated himself for bringing it like this but it was the better option for the long run. She would get tired of him just like Kendall did, or run out of reasons to keep seeing him like Camille. He was protecting the both of them. 

Of course he didn’t see it as using her. He was a man, and even a man like Harry Styles was a bit stupid at times. He was genuinely thinking he was doing the best, but that tiny bit of him was crying out in agony as he watched her leave. She didn’t respond to his call of her name and it stung because, usually Y/N gave him these incredible smiles that had his stomach fluttering and making him weak knees, but instead she had a cold and angry look on her face as she walked out the door. After she left, he sat at his kitchen counter and stared at his phone. He was so conflicted. He couldn’t stop wondering if she was okay. If she was upset with him because she had feelings or because she wouldn’t get more out of him. He had a feeling that her actual emotions for him were just as much as his were but, he was still paralyzed by fear. 

‘Home okay? H.’

read.

------

For the sake of Harry’s career and the contract, Y/N left his house smiling. 

An actress she was. Just in case anyone had spotted her, she wanted people to think that they were okay. Even the driver that so kindly drove her home, but she was shattered. Her heart split into a million pieces and she really didn’t think she could bounce back from this. This hurt most of all. She stormed into her apartment, slamming the door behind her and once again rushed to her room the way she did the first time she ever met Harry and cried herself to sleep. This time however, Y/N didn’t debate on taking down all of her Harry and one direction merchandise down from her walls and drawers. 

She found an empty box of hers, tears streaming down her face as she pulled off every single poster from her wall and folded it haphazardly. All her ticket stubs she had hanging on the walls, all the lanyards, the albums she had displayed. Even the bloody Harry Polaroid book. Everything went into that box. 

Hearing him say those things hit hard. Harder than if those words came from any other boy, because for Y/N it was never acting. Y/N had been enamored by Harry for nearly a decade. Every look, every smile, every word, every touch, and every kiss… she meant it. Harry was the one that helped her grow her confidence as a young woman, the one who gave her comfort whenever a guy broke her heart. Harry was the beacon of hope in her life and always had been. Someone that represented everything that was good. She poured every ounce of love into him, everything she could muster, put herself on the line for four whole months. Hell, she didn’t even take the money they were meant to be giving her because she didn’t want it till the contract was over to ensure that she wasn’t doing this just for the money. Y/N loved him with every fiber of her being in a way that wasn’t romantic at all. And that rejection hurt more than anything else in the world. 

She shoved the box to the side in her room, stripping out of the clothes she was in and showered to wash herself of the memories of last night. She didn’t want his cum on her body, didn’t want anything to do with him right now. But she did change into one of his sweaters and a fresh pair of panties, getting a fresh roll of toilet paper to accompany her as she cuddled into her sheets and let the tears flow fully free.

----

When Harry got a call from Jeff saying that this week’s events for the bakery and their planned date were cancelled, he knew he fucked up big time. Y/N had been so dedicated to it, he had originally thought it was because she wanted them to believe it. But now he was not so sure. 

He had texted her a few times now and was extremely worried and upset because she hadn’t answered a single one. She had had her read receipts on at first, but turned them off— or she kept deleting them. 

They’d been apologies. Begging her to talk to him. Asking if he could come and talk to her but she wasn’t damn answering and he was upset and infuriated. Harry hated not being able to know if she’s okay. Jeff was irritated at him because obviously he hurt her. He had given him the disappointed talk and told him to fix what he had done because she had been obviously upset on the phone. 

‘Y/N... I’m sorry.’

‘Y/N, please talk to me. I really want to talk.”

‘Kiska, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.’

‘I didn’t mean to be.’

‘I just don’t want you to end up having your heart broken by me. I’m not worth it. I just want to talk to you in person. Or even here.’ 

‘I’m worried... are you okay?’

‘Y/N...’

----

It was hard for Y/N to get up in the mornings to work in the bakery and act like she hadn’t had her heart completely shattered. She tried to focus all her energy into making baked goods instead of the texts she was getting from Harry what seemed to be everyday since. She didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to hear what he had to say because she knew how Aquarian’s were. Knew that he would only dig himself into a deeper hole, effectively rubbing salt into the already existing wound. She needed time to heal, time to get over it. 

The texts she had received today alone really struck a chord. She didn’t know why he kept apologizing as if it was his fault that he didn’t like her the way she had wanted him to. It was just sexual chemistry and any hopes of romance were all very much one sided. For a songwriter he was terrible with words. 

Thursday night she locked up and headed home after a very long day. She felt sick to her stomach. She really hadn’t stopped crying since it happened. Tomorrow, she would have a day off to wallow, but for now she needed to get comfy and get some sleep. So that’s what she did. She pulled on one of his most iconic T—shirts, The Rolling Stones one, and cried herself to sleep.

----

Harry had decided after 5 days of her ignoring him, that he needed to go and see her. Luckily he had a key for her place. 

He was losing sleep. Harry hadn't been affected like this before by anyone else. Y/N’s absence felt like a hollow cavity in his chest. All he wanted was that night back. When she was curled up into his body and he was kissing her every so often. It was more than just sexual. He realized then that he liked her a lot. A lot more than he had liked other girls and that's part of why he pushed her away. Even when he was  being cold, he had observed how kind and soft she was. Generous to anyone, calming, talented. Even with flour on her eyebrows from the cookies and when she got his black trousers messy with icing he didn’t notice on her apron. He loved it. He loved how free he felt around her, even with the restraints of the fear he had. 

Jeff has told him to pull his pants on and apologize but it had been hard when she didn’t answer him. He wanted to just go to her and tell her that he was pulling his head out of his ass. Needed to explain the fears to her that he had and trust in her. She hadn’t done anything, hadn't asked for a single thing, hadn't asked him for shout outs or to post her on Instagram without it being prompted by Jeff. 

So that’s how he found himself at her apartment. He had knocked and she didn’t answer— and it was dealt by quiet, besides the low buzz of a tv. He knew from before that she did sleep with a tv on to drown out other noises— she did that when she napped at his house. 

“Y/N?” He called, opening the door with his key, putting it on the entry table. “Angel?” He couldn’t see her in the kitchen or living area, so he took a step towards her room. Harry had never been in her apartment before, he had only ever been outside the building waiting in a car that came to pick her up. 

Part of the reason Y/N kept him from coming over was how small her apartment was, but also because she had tons of things that she simply couldn’t hide. Y/N’s entire flat looked like the flat of a fan. It was a cute Pinterest looking flat, decorated nicely and sprinkled with little things only fans would recognize among other things she was interested in. Harry would surely notice though, so they often went to his house. Her room looked lived in, not messy, but definitely lived in. She had some things scattered on the floor and on top of drawers out of place. Her closet doors were open, exposing some merch as well as a box full of One Direction and Harry Styles paraphernalia.

Harry found her lying in bed, curled up in a little ball. The worst part was that she was wearing his Rolling Stones shirt. Tear tracks down her face. He was completely and utterly upset just by seeing that. Who knew how many days she had cried? It made his stomach unsettled. However something in her closet caught his eye. It was a pink jumper. He swore his stomach dropped. There was something on the sleeve and he tried to convince himself that it was just random, a different jumper that happened to have embroidered sleeve. But as he got closer his stomach fell further as he saw that it had ‘treat people with kindness’ embroidered one the sleeve. His name in a bold font on the breast front. 

Panicking slightly, he moved the next one which was black— only to feel a little sick. It was his rainbow treat people with kindness one. Stepping closer, he kicked a box accidentally— but his body went cold as he looked down. Falling down to his knees, he began to ramble through it. On top was not one, but two tour tee shirts of his. One for New York, one for London. She had gone to two of his shows. But the real kicker was her One Direction shirts. That made him tear up. They looked worn. Not new. She didn’t just buy these. 

Fuck. Y/N was a fan. A real one. One that had gone to multiple shows. And finding the ticket stubs just about broke him in half. It only worsened when he found a little notebook with his name scribbled all over it in hearts. That, that is what got him to let his tears fall. He had treated her like shit. And obviously, she was a fan. He hadn’t known. He had no clue that Y/N was a fan of him, but it didn’t negate the fact he had been awful. No, it made it even worse. She had gone to his shows, and telling by the photos printed up she had gotten floor seats. Paid money to see him multiple times.

Y/N was in fact a big fan. In her nearly 10 years of following Harry and One Direction, she had never stalked them, had never tweeted hate at them or anyone involved in that world. Y/N had had her fan accounts for a long long time, racking up about 25k tweets and 51k reblogs and that didn’t even include her writing. There was only so much Y/N could do to show her support, but she made sure she did everything she could. When Jeff reached out to her with this deal, Y/N took it because she knew if not her, it would be someone else and she wouldn’t trust anyone else. Y/N knew she was fit for the job, she knew the fans inside and out, she knew how to keep a level mind and not lash out whenever she was hurt. She knew she would be helping so many fans see that they too were capable of living their dreams. Y/N had projected a lot of her insecurities onto being a fan of Harry. It was a little escape where she could insert herself into a story or a dream and suddenly feel loved and appreciated for who she really was. Meeting Harry in real life only amplified those feelings. Y/N knew she couldn’t be upset with him if he didn’t end up being the way she imagined him to be because he was human, the only thing she ever really wanted from Harry was for him to see her for who she was and accept her.

Harry was aching. How hadn’t he known she was a fan? If he had, it would have changed everything. He would have gone into it perhaps with a better mindset. This wasn’t someone out to hurt him. It was someone who had spent money and loved him enough to write his name on old notebooks and wear his fucking face around. She wasn’t out to get him. It was all his fault, too. He hadn’t read the contract. He was sure it had to have mentioned it, but he didn’t know. He knew that Y/N was very happy to be doing what they were, but he didn’t know why. And now he did, and he felt like a complete and utter jackass. So much that he felt like he was going to be sick. 

He spent a good half an hour looking at things. Ticket stubs and notebooks, the drafts of letters she wrote to him but never got to give him, the books they put out, all the perfume bottles, the damn one direction keychain from 2011. She even had his doll. And his heart felt like it was stomped all over and shattered. He never could have imagined how she felt.

Standing up, he sniffled and came to sit next to her. At the edge of the bed, he moved his hand and stroked over the side of her face, cursing himself for the tear stains.

You would have thought all the rustling through the things would have woken Y/N up, but she was out like a light. She was so tired both physically and emotionally that she legitimately knocked out. She was also quite the heavy sleeper anyway, usually ignoring sounds and just going back to sleep. Touches however, were a different story. Y/N stirred a bit when she felt someone touching her face, her brows furrowed in confusion. At first she thought it might have been Katya, but it felt too familiar and too warm. Her eyes fluttered open, sleepily looking over Harry’s expression. 

He was crying? Why was he crying? Was everything okay?

“Harry?” She asked, her voice thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?” Her mind immediately going to the worst possible scenario. She thought maybe something happened, maybe he needed someone to support him so he came to her.

“Y/N... why didn’t you tell me?” Harry’s voice was raspy. Harry’s eyes turned brighter green when he cried, but he felt like his whole world was crashing down. He hated the idea that he could have possibly hurt a fan, and he had hurt her deeply. “I just... you never mentioned anything that let me know. I was... fuck, I don’t even know what to say. I feel sick that I hurt you like that.” He looked at her, and it was made even worse when she had immediately asked him what was wrong with such concern. Y/N was too good, but he wanted to be good enough for her. 

Y/N’s brows furrowed with confusion, sitting up properly with him. “Told you what I don't—” Y/N trailed off, having noticed her closet was open wider and the box of memorabilia had been taken out. So he knew now. Did that change anything? Certainly didn’t take away how hurt she felt. 

“God. I feel like an idiot. I didn’t know you were a fan. Let alone that long— I’m sick to my stomach. I can’t believe I was like that to you. I can’t even formulate sentences to tell you how bad I feel about it. You’re just... you’ve been a fan for how long?”

Y/N listened as he rambled on, her brows still furrowed in confusion because it was really quite simple why she didn’t tell him. In her mind it made complete sense. She had met him and saw how apprehensive he was, how he didn’t really want to speak with her and made the decision that she’d keep that a secret. He didn’t even give her a chance to tell him anyway. 

“9 years next week..” Y/N told him, knowing the exact date she had become a fan. How could she ever forget? It changed her whole life. Harry seemed so hurt by this, hurt that he treated her the way he did because she was a fan. Though she understood where he was coming from, he should feel this kind of remorse treating anyone like that. After all, he always preached about treating people with kindness and though he had been kind to her at times, he ultimately broke her heart.

9 fucking years. 9 years that Y/N had liked him and he had treated her this badly. “Fuck. Fuck me, I can’t…” Harry felt his bottom lip tremble, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, you’ve got to understand that I thought I was doing the right thing. But I can’t... I knew I made a mistake as soon as you looked at me.” He felt his throat clench and he had to swallow again to keep himself from choking on his words. “I’m scared.” He whispered. “I owe you an apology, and an explanation. Because I never, ever intended to make you feel so badly. When we first met to now. It’s all rooted in my stupid fear and it isn’t an excuse nor a reason you should forgive me but...” He sighed heavily as he shifted to face her again. 

“I am used to people using me. The last 2 times I did this, both of them faked liking me even out of the time we were supposed to be out and about. Camille and Kendall. Camille had no interest but liked to play hours with me. Liked my gifts, but at the end of the contract, she grabbed her shit and said that it wasn’t ever real and she was method acting, that I was a bit annoying and needy and needed to stop. And then Kendall... She acted like we were together. Would stay over and stuff, planned stuff for later. Liked to show off with me. And then she cheated and got annoyed when I didn’t want to go out every single night. I was crushed because I had really learned to like a side of her that was completely fake and it was awful.” It had hit him hard and he knew that. “I didn’t read the contract because I had decided beforehand I’d just do it and keep a distance. And then you came along and fucking charmed the pants off of me and made me want you so badly all the time. I had such a hard time keeping my distance.”

Y/N heard the pain in his voice, her face softening into a more gentle and sad expression. Tears were forming in Y/N’s eyes as he explained, hating that he had ever even for a second thought she would be that cruel. 

“So Y-you genuinely thought I could do that to you?” She wondered feeling like she was about to cry all over again. “Harry, you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you, you just—” Y/N croaked, a sob ripping through her causing her to shake her head and turn away from him slightly because she didn’t want him to see her ugly cry. “I-I spent four whole months trying to get you to let me in... just a little bit so that maybe— maybe you’d trust me and like me enough to be my f-friend.” Y/N struggled to speak when she cried but she was trying her damn best, “and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but then we went out I had the most incredible night of my life... t-thought maybe you had too, thought that maybe you’d finally let me in and t-that we could start over and you just—” Another sob escaped her, she really couldn’t stop.

Harry hadn’t thought he could hurt worse. But then Y/N started to sob and he felt his own body shrivel you and want to die. He had done this. It was his fault and there was almost nothing he could do to fix it. 

“Baby... please, I’m so sorry.” He nearly whimpered, gathering her into his lap and holding her tight. “I’m a dick. I just... I liked you a lot. And I was scared that you’d be such a good person and then turn into one of them and I couldn’t handle that from you. I’ve cared about you a lot more and I couldn’t figure out why. You just were so good to me and I didn’t think I deserved that so it must have been fake.” He didn’t deserve her anyways. “It was one of the best nights of my life too. I slept all night. Do you know how rare that is? You had me comfortable enough to sleep and I... I can’t even explain to you.” He hiccuped slightly, definitely crying too. “It’s been so scary for me. But I can’t imagine how much it hurt you and I want to be sick thinking about how you’ve just been trying to be my friend and be kind to me and I just... started falling and freaked out.”

Y/N cuddled into his chest, her hands latching on to his shirt and gripping it tight. She hoped he understood what he had done, hoped that she had done enough to explain just how terrible he made her feel. She knew there wasn’t much he could do to fix it now that the deed has been done, so he’d have to make it up to her in time. She pulled back from his chest when he told her he had actually slept that night, looking at him with big eyes. 

“Y-you did?” Y/N asked in a hushed tone, not yet trusting her voice. He was crying yet again, her heart aching at the sight. Her hands lifted up to wipe the tears off his cheeks, gently petting some of his hair back to soothe him. Y/N didn’t say much for a while, there was sort of just this unspoken understanding that she was trying to calm him and he was trying to calm her. She moved her arms to hug him properly and rubbed his back.

“Yeah. I have a lot of problems sleeping. F-Falling asleep and staying asleep.” He admitted. He lifted his own hand too, cautious with his touch for her. His Y/N deserved more than this. He would do anything he possibly could if it meant making it up to her. “Y/N... I don’t deserve your forgiveness okay? I don’t. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I met Stevie at first and she just... was as cold as me.” He felt another surge of the sick feeling. “And then you tried so hard to be my friend and I kept letting all my fear get in the way and make me keep away from you.” She has been such a trooper too. “I don’t know how you even let me kiss you at all. I’ve been such a dick, even though I’ve been feeling bad about it doesn’t excuse it. I like you so much and it’s so terrifying for me. Any type of relationship is terrifying.” He licked his hips, fixing her sleepy hair. 

“You make me want to be a better person so I do deserve you, Y/N. I want to be good.”

As much as Y/N didn’t want to admit it right now, she was feeling better now that he was here. Y/N could tell he was remorseful, that he genuinely felt awful for hurting her the way he did and it eased her pain a little bit knowing that he didn’t mean to. Might have been stupid but at least he was empathetic. 

“I let you kiss me because you’re an exceptionally beautiful man.” Y/N sniffling, trying to lift the mood a little bit. She didn’t want to wallow anymore, she’d been wallowing for days. There was one part of his little statement she had to clarify. Just for good measure. “Wait... so you, um. Like me, like me?” She asked, blushing a bit at the fact that she had to ask. It was important to note because for all she knows maybe he just likes her a lot as a person and the sex was just an added bonus because she was hot. She knew men were weird like that and in denial. “Don’t be scared. We can start over, okay?”

She was an angel and again— Harry couldn’t get over the amount that he did not deserve her at all. Y/N was exactly what a man like him should keep away from as he could possibly make her even more upset but she welcomed him and that had him confused and happy all at the same time. This was a blessing he knew he’d probably never have again in a million years, so he was praying that she didn’t regret this. He sighed a breath of relief, nodding his head at her. How could he ever thank her? He was positive that it would be next to impossible.

“Really, really like you. So much.” That was the easy part, admitting his affection for the girl was so easy he was almost surprised at himself. Normally he would psych himself out but Y/N had him comfortable in that aspect. “Not just because of the sex. I’ve liked you for a while before it. But I think I let myself really feel that night... and then she showed up, and I panicked and made you leave. I knew and still do know you aren’t like that. But it had me nervous and overwhelmed and I should have just cooled down and talked to you.”

It wouldn’t be fair if Y/N didn’t forgive him. She was positive she’d fucked up like this before and of course she liked to follow the golden rule. Treating people the way you want to be treated. That stuck with her when she was younger which was part of the reason Harry’s treat people with kindness campaign was so special to her. And for the first time that week Y/N smiled a proper smile. She brought a finger up to his mouth and shushed him, moving her hand to his cheek like she had done before. 

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Y/N told him honestly. “We can spend whole lives living in the past and worried about things reoccurring, but that’s no way to live. If you’re constantly worried about things that could happen you’ll be stuck with a bunch of what if’s... heartbreak is the worst pain in the world and I understand wanting to prevent it. But you have to give people chances to prove you wrong too. Prove that they aren’t like the others.” Y/N explained, her thumb gliding over his cheek. “And you know what? We’re all learning, all getting through our own baggage and it’s important to support and respect each other. To try and be empathetic whenever you can and treat people with kindness.” She smiled wider. “A really cool guy taught me that.”

Harry turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand a few times, sighing. He still felt like shit. Probably would for a while too, because Y/N was pure and forgiving and he knew that ultimately he would be the one that was going to remember this and the and prove that issue wrong every day. 

“Sounds like a cool dude. Hope you get to meet him.” His smirk was playful, but fell a little bit after. God. He knew that it would take time but he also didn’t like that he couldn’t just take it back. Y/N was pulled towards him and he hugged her for a bit, turning to kiss her cheek a few times. 

“Me too.” Y/N joked, scrunching her nose as she looked at Harry. Her arms wrapped back around his shoulders as they hugged, face nuzzled into his neck and breathed in. He had been through it emotionally and she could tell he was worn out, not as worn as she was, but still worn. 

“Just wanna be with you. For real. And be happy.” Harry hadn’t been truly happy in a long time. “And I know it’s gonna take time to have you truly forgive me but I’m sorry that it even happened to begin with. I like you a lot. I felt like none of what I did was fake. I loved holding you and kissing on you and having you close. None of it was fake to me.”

“None of it was fake. Not from my side either.” Y/N mumbled against his skin, ignoring the first part of his statement because it was too good to be true. He didn’t want her to actually be his girlfriend did he? Something about that just didn’t add up in her mind even though it would make perfect sense to anyone else. “You know my secret now. How do you feel?” Y/N asked, her face still hidden because well... she didn’t want to see his reaction. God she felt embarrassed, she had never intended on him seeing all of it. Maybe some bits, but god he really went through absolutely everything. She was terrified for him to find her socials. 

“I feel both good and bad.” Harry said. “M’happy you’re a fan. But I feel awful because I know that I think about me meeting someone I love so much and for their reaction to be like that... it would wreck me. You’re much stronger than I am.” And that was the truth. Y/N has handled far more than she should have. He didn’t like it, but he commended her for the strength. “I really just want to lay with you for a little bit.” Y/N was so adorable when she was sleepy. He had thought so even before when she had fallen asleep on his couch. But he wanted to let her sleep and be happy in his arms for once. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you. But I want to.” Harry wasn’t going to let it go. He had a feeling Y/N knew that too because she sighed, hiding her face back in his neck with a grumble. “Are you huffin’ at me, little girl?” It was a bit more lighthearted. She was after all, in his shirt and on his lap.

“I told you to stop thinking about it.” Y/N whined, “we’ve both cried enough for tonight.” She sighed and closed her eyes comfortably. She was rather tired, only having slept for an hour when Harry had come over. “but thank you, I try my best to be... cause if you aren’t strong then you can’t carry on.” It was true. Being strong meant moving on full force and taking life by the balls and living it the way you wanted to live it. It didn’t matter how sad you were or how frustrated you were, you took things day by day and figured it out. No point in giving up, you’d just be miserable. “Can you stay the night?” She asked softly, moving her head from her neck to look at him properly. She just wanted a proper cuddle, she’d sleep better knowing he was with her. She huffed when he didn’t take her hint. “You can start making it up to me by letting go and getting cozy. No shoes or jeans allowed when sleeping in my bed.” Y/N told him in a stern yet playful tone.

“God, I’ll do anything you ask me, baby.” At this point Harry would roll over like a good boy if it meant Y/N would giggle. Gently placing her down, he stood and did as asked, stripping the jeans and shoes off before climbing on top of her. It was a playful thing, as he hovered over her kissing all over her face. “Kiss attack.” He whispered before doing it all over again. Y/N was a giggling mess under him and he was thoroughly enjoying making her laugh rather than cry. He places noisy kisses to her cheeks and forehead and nose, avoiding the mouth just in case she wasn’t wanting that yet. It felt a lot better to be with her like this. Allowing himself to be vulnerable, letting her be someone he liked. That was the good thing about it. Y/N had him now. She may not know it completely but she had him by the throat. “Silly girl. No more tears for tonight. You’re so tired, hm baby?” He questioned her quietly, seeing how exhausted she looked.

“Mhm..” Y/N hummed, “I have a day off tomorrow though so if you want to stay up and talk we can.” She said though she yawned a little at the end of it. “Come.” She tugged on his shirt to pull him down some more, tapping the left side of the bed for him to sleep on. “You can take this off too, if you think you’ll get hot.” Men really were like furnaces, always sweating or feeling too hot in the middle of the night while she was usually freezing. She remembered Harry being significantly warm. Y/N knew she’d be warm sleeping next to him, especially if he was holding her all night.

“Trying to get me naked? Come now. Little Y/N... naughty.” Harry laughed, sitting up on the side of her bed and tossing the shirt to the side of the room. He could care less. All the man wanted to do was hold her in his arms and keep her there for hours upon hours. “I was promised cuddling.” He sniffed as he slid back under the covers. Immediately Harry was gifted with armfuls of Y/N, her leg going back over his hip and face smushed in his neck. There was nothing like this. All the money in the world couldn’t buy genuine affection like this. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “get in you goof.” She chuckled and switched off the light. Her tv still illuminated the room, that 70s show playing on loop on Netflix. She returned to her regular position, leg draped over his hips, arm over his waist, face pressed into his neck. 

“Want you to sleep for a while, baby. You’re so tired. My poor girl.” He frowned, petting her hair and smoothing then hand down her back to rub circles on it. “When you wake up we can talk more. I don’t have anything tomorrow either... so we can just be together.” What they’d both wanted all along.

Y/N pecked a few soft kisses to his neck, humming as he petted her hair. She was very sleepy and was thankful that he was letting her do so. “You can watch whatever you want if you don’t want to sleep just yet, I don’t mind the tv being on.” She mumbled against his neck. “Night night, Harry.” She drifted off fairly quickly afterwards, feeling extremely comfortable and cozy. Y/N was excited to be able to spend tomorrow doing nothing with him. She felt like it’s what they both wanted and needed, they’d properly bond tomorrow. Get to know the real side of them.

-----------------------------------

[part 6]

A/N: We sobbed while writing this and while editing this. It just HITS. But they’re together now for real 🥺🥺🥺 2 more parts left! - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[masterofmunson]

all i ask of you (3)

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader Broadway AU

Summary: You’re forced to work with your famous ex boyfriend on Broadway.

Word Count: 4.3k+

Warnings: language

Author’s Note: Yay a longer chapter than the two previous ones! Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You stare at Harry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. His face is void of any emotion. He climbs out of bed silently and you follow suit. You reach for his hand but he recoils from your touch.  

“Harry?” you say his name softly. You’re too scared to speak. You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to be so quiet at your happy news. 

He turns to face you. His eyes no longer hold the admiration and excitement they once held when you told him the news just moments earlier. Now they’re dark and cold. 

“How long have you known?” Harry asks you. 

“About a week. I leave at the end of summer, so we still have plenty of time together—”

“No.”

Your brows crease in confusion. You take a step back. You hadn’t expected him to be so cold and callous towards you. 

“No? What do you mean no? This is my dream! Would it kill you to be happy for me, Harry?”

Harry glares at you. He crosses his arms over his chest. He rolls his eyes and laughs bitterly at you. It sends a chill down your spine. 

“So you’re leaving me? Leaving us?”

You blink in disbelief. You can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. Where is the man you’re falling in love with? “I’m moving for a job, Harry. I figured that we could still be together since you travel for your job. We can work this out.”

He laughs again. “Are you joking? You want us to do long distance? Absolutely not. It’s me or New York. Your choice.”

You gasp in response. Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s making you choose. Harry of all people should understand. He’s done everything in his power to be as successful as he is. He’s made sacrifices too. Why can’t you do the same? Is it because he’s famous and you’re not? 

“Are you joking, Harry? Why are you doing this? I still want to be with you! You would never do this to someone like Taylor or Kendall!” you shout, throwing his ex girlfriends into the fight. If Harry can be petty so can you. 

“They’re different! They’re famous and—”

“I’m not,” you interrupt bitterly with a stiff nod. “What’d you expect, Harry? That I would just wait for you and jump at the chance to go on tour with you if you asked me to? I have a career I’m chasing after and now that I have it you’re giving me an ultimatum. Do you realize how selfish and cruel you’re being?”

“Choose!” Harry shouts. His hair is wild and unruly. The eyes you love so dearly are cruel and cold. 

Now it’s your turn to laugh bitterly. You shake your head and quickly gather your things off the bedroom floor. You’re rendered speechless and you run out of his bedroom. 

You don’t say goodbye. You don’t need to. Harry already did that himself. 

… 

Something changes between you and Harry after your night at Glass House. He doesn’t intrude on your space. He doesn’t speak to you outside of rehearsals and you don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. 

Frank doesn’t notice and you’re relieved. Your job is no longer on the line and you and Harry are professional towards one another. It’s the best the both of you can do considering the circumstances. 

However, you’re positively glowing now that Harry is on the receiving end of Frank’s short temper. Now that you’re days away from Harry’s Broadway debut, you’re working with him on blocking. He can’t seem to get the steps right in the relatively short dance sequence he’s in or where he needs to stand and walk as he sings. 

“Harry, my god, don’t act like you’re so repulsed by Y/n. Raoul and Christine are now engaged. They’re all over each other. They can’t stand to be away from each other. You need to hold her close,” Frank directs, grabbing Harry and dragging him to you. 

You’re chest to chest with Harry and you can hear his hard breaths. You carefully move your hands to the base of his neck. His hands find purchase on your waist. His eyes meet yours and you nod in approval. 

“Relax, Harry,” you whisper under your breath at him. “That’s the only way you’re going to get Frank off your case. It’s okay for you to touch me.”

He nods silently and you start the scene over again. You follow Harry’s lead and move swiftly and effortlessly across the stage. You cling to him like you’re supposed to and Harry’s fingers dig into your waist, briefly lifting you off the ground before setting you back down again. 

Your foreheads touch and Harry twirls you sweetly, perfectly portraying Raoul. You step apart when Frank shouts behind you. 

“Better. You definitely need more practice, but it’s better. Let’s work on the blocking for All I Ask of You.” 

You nod and so does Harry. You walk towards Harry and he hesitantly wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his shoulder and squeeze him tightly. His hand gently caresses your head as he sings. 

You pull away and Harry brushes his finger against your cheek as you sing to him. You squeeze his hand and he holds your hands gently to his chest. You move slowly across the stage, following Harry’s lead. You pull away completely and walk to the front of the stage. You turn your head to look back at him and he walks to meet you at the front. You let him take your hands again and as the lyric approaches, you take a deep breath. 

Harry’s eyes soften as he looks at you and you meet his gaze. You lean to kiss him and one of his hands holds the side of your face. The kiss seems to last an eternity. You pull away and finish the song. 

You take another deep breath. You have to kiss Harry again. Your eyes are trained on his mouth and you force a smile onto your face. You’re Christine. Harry is Raoul. You’re a professional. 

You lean in to kiss him again. Harry grins and holds your face tenderly. He kisses you, smiling against your mouth. Your eyes close and Harry gently lifts you off the ground, spinning the two of you across the stage before the scene ends. 

Harry sets you down and you step away from him. Your skin feels hot to the touch and you feel incredibly flustered. You bury the weird feeling deep inside your chest. 

You scratch at your arm and your eyes follow Frank’s. Your ears are ringing and you feel the blood drain from your face. 

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Frank before running off to the closest bathroom. 

You practically throw the door open and you stand in front of the bathroom sink. You lean your hands on the sink and breathe heavily. Your body starts to shake and you let out a labored breath. 

You turn the sink on and splash water on your face. You sigh and stare at yourself in the mirror. 

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” you whisper to yourself. “Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid!”

You splash more water on to your face before turning off the sink. You straighten out your back and open the door. 

“Hey,” Harry mutters, pushing himself off the wall. 

You stop at the doorway and look over at him. 

“Are you okay?”

You nod silently. “Yeah. I think it’s the tuna salad I had for lunch,” you lie, letting the door shut behind you. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. What did Frank say?”

“He said it was a good start, but I need to relax more. He said you were perfect,” Harry answers as the two of you walk side by side back to the stage. 

You nod. “It’s just me, Harry. Despite all the shit that’s happened between us, we still have to work together. I know it's been difficult for the both of us, but I think it’s best if we start over, for the sake of the show. I’ve nearly sabotaged my job because I’ve been unprofessional towards you. It’s been four years and it’s not like we were serious anyways.”

Harry stops in the middle of the hallway and you turn your head to look at him. His brows are creased as hurt crosses over his face. It makes your stomach drop. 

Shit. You shouldn’t have said that out loud. 

You’ve convinced yourself that what you had with Harry wasn’t serious in order to avoid acknowledging your hurt and heartbreak. Acknowledging it meant you were weak and allowed Harry control over you even though you weren’t together anymore. You lied straight through your teeth in order to convince yourself that you were completely fine after the break up, even though it destroyed you. 

“You didn’t think we were serious?” Harry asks you. His eyes are cold as he looks at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. You’re instantly reminded of when you broke up. 

You scratch at your arm and look away from him. You swallow hard and rock back on your heels. “We were together for five months, Harry. We were better off as friends,” you reasoned. “Maybe we wouldn’t have such a fucked up relationship if we didn’t do anything before.”

Harry takes a step away from you. You hadn’t expected such a negative reaction. It’s like you wounded him. 

“I told you I loved you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. You shake your head at him. “And then a week later you made me choose between you and my career, and I broke up with you. If you really did love me like you say you did, you would’ve never made me choose,” you snapped angrily. You resist the urge to punch in his perfect teeth.

He still doesn’t get it. Nothing’s changed in the four years you’ve been apart. You still can’t look at him without the hurt resurfacing. 

His love meant nothing the moment he made you choose. His selfishness couldn’t be ignored. You’re better off now than you were before. The love you had for him disappeared the second you left his house that day. Instead, bitterness and anger took its place. 

“You were my best friend before we dated and while we were dating. As my boyfriend and best friend, you should’ve supported me, but you didn’t.”

“What happened to starting over?” Harry snaps back, glaring at you. “For the sake of the show?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I forgive you, Harry,” you tell him. You sigh tiredly, pinching the spot between your eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’ll forget. I’m not afraid to tell you that you broke my heart.”

Harry noticeably flinches at your admission and you turn your back to him. You walk quickly back to the stage. Harry follows behind you and you stand beside Jane near the front of the group. 

“Everything okay?” Jane whispers to you. Her eyes move from you to Harry. 

You nod. “Everything’s fine, Janie. I’m okay.”

You can tell she doesn’t buy it, but she lets it go. 

“To promote the show with Harry as the newest addition to the cast, I’ve arranged for a handful of you to go to popular restaurants to sing to the guests as entertainment tonight. As for Harry and Y/n, I’ve arranged something for tomorrow morning. I contacted the Today Show and they’ll be coming to interview the two of you before rehearsals start tomorrow,” Frank states excitedly. He smiles eagerly. 

You momentarily forget how to breathe. Your stomach drops and Jane slips her hand into yours. She squeezes your hand in silent support. How could Frank do this so last minute? He has no idea what Harry’s fans are like. They’ll try to link you to him almost immediately. You were lucky they never caught on to your relationship when you were together. 

“Did you get the okay from Harry’s precious manager?” Jane asks sarcastically. You nudge her and Harry glares at her from across the stage. 

Frank ignores her question. “I want the two of you to be here no later than 6:30.”

You nod silently and Frank goes back to going over what needs to be done before the scheduled dress rehearsal two days from now. 

The rest of rehearsal goes by pretty smoothly. Harry’s working well with Aaron and getting better at remembering what he needs to do on stage and where he needs to walk in each scene and during each song. 

You don’t do much out of the ordinary. You help lead Harry where he needs to be on stage despite what happened earlier. 

He avoids you as much as he can the rest of the day. You know he’s angry with you and you’re tired of having to explain yourself to him. You told him what you needed to. You admitted and acknowledged the hurt he put you through despite not wanting to. Now everything’s gone and done with. Now it’s up to him. 

You wonder if admitting the hurt he caused you to his face changes things between the two of you. It was the closure you wanted ever since you broke up four years ago. He knows now and you can let it go. You can leave Harry in your past now that it’s done weighing on your chest. It doesn’t matter that you still have to work with him for the next six weeks. You’re done hurting. You let it go. You let him go. 

“Are you coming with us to Stardust or are you heading home?” Aaron asks you after rehearsals are done for the night. 

You shrug. You know you should go home. You have an early day tomorrow and you should go to bed early, but you know you’d have fun if you joined them at Stardust prompting the show. 

“You don’t have to,” Jane tells you with a gentle smile. You know she can tell how tired you are. “We’ll give you the rundown tomorrow.” 

You laugh, nodding at your best friend. “Thanks for giving me permission to go home,” you tease. 

You step into your dressing room and Aaron walks down the hall into his own room. You ignore Harry sitting on the couch tucked in the corner of the room. You almost miss the two people that sit beside him on the couch. It makes your heart drop inside your chest. 

“Glenne?” you gasp, standing frozen at the door. Her eyes meet yours. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles brightly at you. She stands up from her spot on the couch and nearly tackles you into a hug. You laugh and wrap your arms around her. She squeezes you tightly and kisses your cheek. 

“You suck at keeping in touch,” Glenne teases, leaning back to get a better look at you. 

You roll your eyes and laugh at her. “Is being a Broadway Star a valid excuse yet?” you ask her. 

She scoffs at you and nudges you playfully. “I see you’re still a smart-ass.”

“Hey, I’m your pseudo sister, of course I’m a smart-ass!” you reason with a giggle. 

“Well, Jeff and I are here for the next week, so you better tell me everything! We were just about to head out for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

It’s like Glenne forgot what happened between you and Harry. It was one of the reasons why you struggled reaching out to her after you moved to New York. Your fears always got the better of you. 

What if she told Harry how you were truly feeling? God, what if she told Jeff? You wouldn’t know what to do or say if either of them knew the amount of emotional distress you were going through when you and Harry broke up. It was one of the reasons why you distanced yourself from Glenne. She was so close with Harry that you feared she might let some things slip that you didn’t want Harry to know. 

You sigh, scratching at your arm. You know you shouldn’t, especially after what happened between you and Harry earlier today. He’s pissed at you and wants nothing to do with you. 

“I dunno, Glenne. I don’t want to intrude. You came for Harry,” you tell her, avoiding the look of disappointment on her face. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’m sure Harry won’t mind. Right, H?” Glenne asks, turning her head to look at him. He sits up and shrugs. He avoids looking at you. 

“You can come. I don’t care,” he responds, standing up from his spot on the couch. You nod awkwardly and grab your jacket from your chair. Slipping your arms through, you grab your bag and Jane looks at you in disbelief. She can’t believe you’re choosing to go out with old friends you lost touch with as a result of your break up with Harry four years earlier. 

You shake her off and she rolls her eyes at you before disappearing down the hall into Aaron’s dressing room. You swallow hard and shake off your nerves before trailing behind Harry, Jeff, and Glenne as you leave the back of the theater. 

You walk to the garage closest to the theater and wordlessly climb into the back of Harry’s car. Glenne joins you in the back seat and you rub your hands on the top of your thighs. You shouldn’t have said yes to dinner. You should be at home drinking wine by yourself, eating dinner, and watching reruns of your favorite TV show. 

Harry drives with music playing softly in the background. He drives away from the theater district towards the Upper East Side. It makes your stomach drop and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You may be on Broadway, but there’s no way you can afford to eat wherever Harry’s driving to. You have three roommates and live comfortably and within your means. You never go out of your way to eat at upscale celebrity restaurants or shop at upscale boutiques either. 

You cough uncomfortably. “Actually, do you mind dropping me off at my place?” 

Harry looks at you through the mirror and Glenne turns her head to look at you. “What? Why?” Glenne asks you. 

“Glenne, come on. Harry’s driving towards the Upper East Side. I can’t afford wherever you’re eating dinner. Just take me home,” you answer. Embarrassment and shame wash over you and you hate it. You feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” Harry tells you, pulling his eyes away from the mirror and back on the road. 

“Harry—”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “I know you don’t like it when I pay for things. You can buy me dinner another time.”

You close your mouth and stare down at your lap. Heat pricks at your cheeks and spreads to the tips of your ears. You feel so inadequate compared to Harry, Glenne, and Jeff. It doesn’t matter that you’re successful in your own right, but you’ll never make enough money to just make a trip to the Upper East Side without it being a special occasion. 

You stare out the window as Harry pulls up to the restaurant. You climb out and everyone else does the same. Harry gives his keys to the valet and you walk inside. 

The hostess seats you almost immediately. She’s clearly unfazed that Harry is just feet away from her. 

You take the seat next to Glenne and you grab at your menu. You hide your face from Harry and another wave of embarrassment washes over you. You’re incredibly under dressed. You planned on just taking the bus home and enjoying the house to yourself in your comfiest pair of joggers and an old college sweatshirt. 

Your server comes by to take your drink order and you almost order a glass of Pinot Grigio. You decide against it when you realize Harry’s footing the bill and just ask for water. 

“So, how’s New York been for you? How many shows have you been in?” Jeff asks you when you set your menu back on the table. 

“I love it here. I know it’s another city but it’s so different from LA. I’ve really found my place here and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. This is my home,” you smile at him. It’s the first genuine smile that graces your features. You’re starting to relax and breathe a bit better than when you were in the car. “I’ve been in five shows since I’ve been here. Phantom is my first big lead, though.”

“We’re glad you’re happy,” Glenne smiles at you. “You should be so proud of all that you’ve done!”

Your eyes meet Harry’s briefly and you nudge your childhood friend. You laugh. “Trust me, I am. It’s definitely been hard sometimes, but I have Janie to lean on. She’s my rock. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s my best friend.”

“And you’re in a show together! It must be awesome to work alongside your best friend every day.”

You nod as your server returns with your drinks. He takes down your meals before disappearing again. You anxiously tap your foot underneath the table and you fumble with your fingers. 

“How have you been?” you ask Jeff in order to avoid another awkward silence. 

Jeff starts talking but it falls on deaf ears. You lose interest and your eyes wander around the restaurant. You can tell the patrons are struggling to keep their eyes away from your table. You don’t blame them. You were like that with Harry when you first met all those years ago. 

“Excuse me?” a timid voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look to your left. A girl with gorgeous auburn hair stands at the foot of the table. If you had to guess, she’s at least 16. You smile gently and you quickly look over at Harry. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Hi,” you greet her with a soft smile.  

Her shoulders immediately relax and she beams at you. You hadn’t expected that. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Y/n, but I’m a big fan. You’re an amazing actor and I love your voice. I’m hoping to go to school for musical theater like you did when I’m 18. Can I have your autograph and maybe a photo?” the girl asks you, rocking on the back of her heels. 

Your eyes widen at the teenage girl in front of you. You’ve never been approached for autographs or photos outside the theater. It shocks you, and you know Glenne, Harry, and Jeff notice. 

You nod, laughing softly. You slip out of the booth. “Yes, of course! What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Rachel,” she answers as she hands you a worn Playbill of The Phantom of the Opera. She hands you a pen and you address it to her before signing your name underneath. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Rachel. I’ll have my friend Glenne take the photo for us.”

Rachel hands over her phone to Glenne and you gently wrap an arm around Rachel’s torso. She does the same to you and you grin as Glenne takes plenty of photos for Rachel to look through. 

“Thank you so much! It was so night to meet you, Y/n. Have a good dinner,” Rachel says her goodbyes before hurrying back over to her table. 

You slide back into your seat and let out a soft laugh. You smile, shaking your head. Glenne and Jeff laugh too as the server comes back with your meals. 

“I can’t believe that just happened. I’ve never been stopped in public before,” you say in disbelief. 

“You just made that girl’s year,” Glenne grins, cutting into her food. 

You hum and dig into your food. You ignore the soft smile on Harry’s face as his eyes linger on you. 

After dinner, you leave the restaurant and wait patiently for Harry’s car to pull up from the valet. 

“Our hotel isn’t too far from here, so we’re going to walk back,” Glenne says, hugging you and Harry before they start walking down the street. 

Harry’s car is parked briefly in front of the restaurant and you open the door to the passenger side before climbing inside. You anxiously rub your hands together as Harry climbs inside and drives off. 

You don’t talk unless you’re directing him towards your house. It’s awkward and you’re visibly uncomfortable. Your hands run along the tops of your thighs as he pulls up to your home. He parks on the side of the road and you turn to look at him. 

“Thanks for dinner and driving me home. You didn’t have to invite me to dinner with Jeff and Glenne, but you did anyway. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmur quietly, reaching for your bag and opening the car door. 

Harry reaches for your hand and you turn to look at him. You don’t pull away and Harry awkwardly lets your hand go. Something twists inside your chest. 

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Y/n,” he says softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You climb out of the car and shut the door behind you. You practically run up the small porch steps of your home. Your hands are shaking as you unlock the door. You step inside and nearly slam the door shut behind you. You rest your back against the door and shake your head.

Locking the door, you peek through the small window as Harry drives off now that you’re in the safety of your own home. 

Your stomach twists and your hands are hot and clammy. You kick off your shoes and run up to the bathroom. Maybe a shower will fix how you’re feeling. 

It doesn’t, and you fall asleep thinking of Harry. 

[fbdo1986]

Everything I've Ever Let Go of Has Claw Marks on It - A Succession Fic

a/n: Admittedly, this isn’t the usual thing I write about! But Succession has thoroughly corrupted my brain and now I care hopelessly about these siblings, so I just have to express my feelings about them. I have to give credit where credit is due, though! I was inspired by @successionsideblog’s post talking about headcanons about Kendall and Connor’s relationship growing up, specifically about Kendall as a little kid and how he would react to Connor leaving for school after they established a really strong bond, so I decided to write something exploring that! (Also, the title is a quote from David Foster Wallace). 

Warnings: Implications of parental neglect and nightmares

Word Count: 2,178

The morning after Connor’s going away dinner—he laughs to himself, somewhere, because he and celebration aren’t usually linked—he wakes with a strange culmination of feelings twisting inside himself. It’s early. Of course, there’d be no savoring his last morning at home, no gradual waking with comfort underneath the softness of blankets. Instead: lengthy, conflicting feelings left to settle in a still room. The house is completely silent, and he’s left to sit quietly. It’s a bit uncomfortable, so he turns to open a window and is met with the calming whispers of a morning still yet to unfold. Of one indicative of the rest of his life, or rather, a dive headfirst into uncertainty; a moment waiting to determine how he could turn out, without the stern, watchful eyes of his father. He wants it to be good. He doesn’t want to admit that this freedom is unlike any type he’s ever felt; he doesn’t want to recognize that he’s afraid, afraid that when he returns, he might not suit the only image he’s ever had for himself, in the second shadowy place beside a man who stands like a mountain range. 

Not far away is the bed of his younger brother, Kendall, who he hasn’t stirred from his sleep. Of all the conflicted feelings, the ones involving his brother burn fiercest in his mind. There’s the push and pull—the escape, finally, the taste of freedom wrestling with the knowledge that Kendall will inevitably be inflicted with the things he faced while he was an only child, and no one deserves to feel that alone. Sure, there’s Shiv, their sister, but she’s just a baby. Kendall will become the eldest son, the darling boy, bearing the strain. 

He tiptoes out of their bedroom, wanting to make a silent goodbye before things burst with life when everyone wakes, when the place will bustle and he’ll get caught in the whirlwind of preparation. The floor is cold underneath him everywhere. In his own room, in the hallway where Shiv’s room sits a few doors down, in hers too. Maybe he’ll remember the cold, even when he’s gone. Something tells him that he will. It’s oddly characteristic of home. 

His little sister’s room is in much the same formation as his own, a wide space with large windows, but with splashes of color—yellow and pink—that are absent on his white walls. He meanders towards her crib. She’s also still sleeping, but he wants to bid her goodbye all the same. He doesn’t see it yet, the physical resemblance to any of the members of the family. Except maybe the blue eyes, the ones Logan gave him too. And he’s not sure if he’s thankful for that—she being so starkly different from all of them. But in time, he’ll find little pieces that tie them together. The same shoulders that stiffen when she’s annoyed are the ones found on Roman, the unintentional copycat. Her downcast gaze when she’s hurt and finds it difficult to speak is just like Ken’s. 

“See you, Pinky.” He smiles as his heart softens. It aches momentarily, since he knows how much he will miss her as she grows, but he’s reminded that she will have Kendall, and if Connor’s taught him anything, it’s the value of protection.

The morning is mundane, all things considered. Mainly because the culmination of sending him off to college peaked the night prior, with all preparations made wordlessly, never by his own family. There are things to be finished, but that’s mainly stowing away what he has packed and getting a car. It’s the normal amount of silence, but knowing that this is how he has to leave it—with everything, including himself, glazed over with a mere fleeting look, shrouded in sealed silence as it’s checked over one last time—sits uncomfortably within him. So he retreats back to his younger brother, and he ensures that he won’t make it an early goodbye. They can pretend, for a little while, that there’s no time ticking until he goes away.

Ken is back in their room, fiddling languidly with a stuffed animal in his arms. It’s a teddy bear that usually sits on top of his bed. He must have grabbed it for comfort. Just another thing to not let dig into him. It’s already hard enough. So when he realizes that his side of the room is so much more sparse than Kendall’s, he pretends not to notice it. For both of their sakes.

“Hey buddy. You look so bored here. Do you wanna do something with me? We could go outside, throw a baseball around. Or I could try to teach you how to play chess again.” He flashes a smile with fondness at his little brother.

“It’s gonna take too long.” Kendall says, his gaze still fixated on the toy in his hands.

They’ve still got a few hours before the afternoon sets in. They’ll make time.

“We’ve got time. Don’t worry about it.”

Kendall’s eyes trace the table in the middle of the room, which holds a chessboard and all the strewn pieces as remnants of their last attempt.

“I almost fell asleep last time.” He hides a smile as he remembers it.

“No, you definitely did.” Connor chuckles, recalling the piece that got tucked under Kendall’s cheek as he slumped forward in his dozing. The knight left an imprint in his skin that he tried to wipe away, but by morning—spent in his bed, not half on a chessboard—it was nearly gone. “But it was nighttime then. Promise you won’t? I’ll promise it’ll be fun, okay?”

“Okay.”

So they start fresh, putting the pieces back where they belong. They line up their respective kingdoms. Once he’s finished with the rules, Connor continues to explain as they attempt to play a game. Yet that takes much more effort than expected, since Connor will occasionally prod Kendall with silly questions, just to take his mind off of things.

“Do you think Shiv is gonna like chess?” Connor asks suddenly.

“I don’t know.” Kendall shrugs it off, he’s mid-move.

“Because I think she’ll hate it. Either that, or she’ll beat the both of us with her eyes closed.”

It makes Kendall laugh to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Already, a grin spreads on the eldest son’s face.

Kendall looks back up at him. “Shiv’s just a baby. I can only think of her now. I’m just thinking of a baby playing chess.”

“You think you could beat a baby?” Connor leans forward, challenging him.

“It’s not my fault you’re not a good teacher.” Kendall jokes. 

- 

When Connor emerges from the house to leave, finally, the sky is a very distinct blue. Airy clouds hang in the sky along with effortless sunshine that reminds him of summers before this. Ones with boats out on a lake, with white curtains swept up in a passing breeze, with the haze of heat in the air and light so blinding that it made him squint, the tennis courts that burned when you hit them if you fell after a missed swing. 

As he looks back up at this house, around the entirety of this place that sprawls before them he can’t decide if he’ll miss it.

He’s broken in his contemplation by the sound that fills the silence. The same sound that acts as an alarm, that jumpstarts his instincts the way nothing else can. He turns sharply and looks down to find his younger brother approaching him.

“Please, please. Don’t go.” Kendall’s brown eyes peer into his heart. At once, as Connor moves his shoulders—maybe, maybe to turn away—he feels the sudden pressure of small but desperate hands grabbing at his leg, grasping for fabric, shoelaces, anything.

Connor’s heart sinks heavily into his stomach as Kendall latches onto him, and he forces himself to look away. Instantly he’s seeing the child he used to be, and the truly small boy that Kendall is. His face is red and blotchy, and his eyes pool with tears that don’t hesitate to run down his cheeks. It hurts. He’s terrified, stricken with grief. Connor’s whole body wrenches with guilt.

“Get up, Ken.” Logan barks. “You’re a grown boy.” But Logan doesn’t pull Kendall up to his feet, so Connor breathes a fleeting sigh of relief.

“Connie…” He pleads. “You can’t go! You can’t!” He feels how Kendall’s hands ache to hold on. It should baffle him, since Kendall’s rarely the type to fight anything kicking and screaming, but he understands.

So Connor stays put. He takes a seat on the steps where they stand and places his hands on his brother’s shoulders gently. “You have to be brave, okay Kenny?”

“I don’t want to be.” He huffs, shaking his head.

“You’ve got to, alright? I believe in you.” He steadies his gaze, looking him in the eyes. “I believe in you. You can. Can you do that for me?”

Kendall nods, shuddering in a breath.

“Good. Cause you’re the big brother now. You have to look after little Shiv, just like I looked after you.” His blue eyes spark with fondness and pride. “Come here.” He pulls Kendall into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tight.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Kendall’s voice is small, so he just pulls him closer. As Kendall tucks himself into Connor’s shoulder, he’s reminded of the nights when Ken would wake up, thrashing and sobbing, and how he offered the same shoulder to cry into, to gain stability from.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna miss you, too. But I’ll come home on holidays, I promise. And you can call and write to me. I’m always gonna be around, in some way. Okay? I’ve always got you. Always.” With one final squeeze he holds Kendall in his arms, then getting up apprehensively to face his father.

“I’ll see you, son.” His father’s eyes shine coldly. Not with pride for his own son, he doesn’t think, but with complacency. The gesture’s sincere, but even as his hands clasp Connor’s face—which is infinitely small in this moment—it’s nearly absent of fondness. It’s barely warm. All the same, he softens, because something is better than nothing. He nods solidly, acknowledging the weight of these hands that ache to be filled, and wonders if he can even come close to fitting that space. 

He turns to Kendall again, giving him a smile. “Remember what we talked about, okay bud? I love you. And remember to tell Shivy you love her too, alright? I’ll miss you.” He sees the whole picture now, his father standing stoically with Kendall at his side. Nobody brought Shiv out to say goodbye—despite his morning ritual he wishes someone did. His family, so achingly small, so disjointed, without his mother. Even as his family will expand upon later returns, they will continue on the path of inheriting the strain, the burden that being a Roy child requires. Even Shiv, when grown, will battle the same leaden shoulders, the same shaky, tormented breath so signature of pretending, and a toughness that only seems to soften in his embrace.

He’s reminded of how young he and Kendall are. Even with ten years between them, and for drastically different reasons. But regardless, they’re still kids thrust into the world with no gentle caress to soothe them. He shouldn’t have to do the job his father can’t. Kendall shouldn’t have to be tormented even in dreams, and shouldn’t have to face the world’s truths at eight years old. But Connor shoves it back, because right now he can’t be plagued with this knowing that he has no choice but to let these cards play out. There’s nothing he can do to stop it: time from moving on, Kendall being subjected to his place, all of it. Instead he has to step away, even as his eyes become glossy with tears. It’s not home, not really, but a sudden force inside of him that stirs once he turns away—into the vastness beyond this place, the world with open arms—tells him that the echoing house, with walls so blinding white, that it’s all he’s ever known. He wishes he had a slice of bravery. Because he wants to be a little kid, he wants to be protected from the unknown, even if it might mean a sense of freedom. If nothing else, he wants to stop it. Just to wrap his arms around all the things that deserve to never find out what the world has in store—claws and all, the things that make you grow up too fast—even though he can’t. Even though the moment’s passed. He can’t even help it. But he’ll swear, swear with every tear that runs down his face—that’s now concealed as he has his back to them—that he’ll try to stretch his arms wide enough to make someone, anyone, proud. Or that he’ll make himself fierce enough that nothing can sink its teeth into what he’s spent his whole life trying to guard. He’s gonna make it good, or lose it all trying. 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Chess Not Checkers

Summary: King Liam and Queen Kendall finally have a meeting with Bradshaw and Isabella to discuss the betrothal treaty.

A/N: The final part of this Fracture trilogy, and probably my favorite one to write. Who knows what the writers have planned for Auvernal’s hostile takeover of Cordonia, but I’m not letting that shit fly not another damn second. As always, thanks for reading and enjoy!

Catch Up Here

Tags: @senseofduties @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @badchoicesposts @drakewalker04 @canknot @sirbeepsalot @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @eadanga @the-unconquered-queen @flyawayboo @aestheticartwriting @ao719 @zaffrenotes @kingliam2019 @aworldoffandoms 

~v~

“Do not wear a blue tie!” Liam hears his wife yell from their walk-in closet.

Liam drops the tie in his hand and steps away from it, suddenly suspicious. “Why not? Is something wrong with them?

Moments pass and Kendall walks back into their bedroom, slipping on a pair of heels. “Nothing is wrong with your ties. But the color blue brings out your eyes, and we aren’t going for a warm and friendly aura. Wear red. You’ll look bold and commanding.”

Today is the day for their meeting with Bradshaw and Isabella. For the past week, he, Kendall and their group of close friends have been talking and going over plans to get Eleanor out of her betrothal to Bradshaw and Isabella’s son. While Olivia wanted to ambush them and have them killed as soon as they stepped foot in Cordonia, Kendall wanted to be as quick and civil as possible. While she isn’t above starting an international war, she doesn’t want that to be her first option.

Liam decided to step back on this and let Kendall take the lead when it came to dealing with Auvernal. He’s willing to intervene if the need arose, but for now, he is perfectly content with just silently supporting his queen. She has a solid plan of attack, and he’s excited to see everything play out.

“Red it is.”

Kendall finishes putting on her lipstick and drops the tube onto her nightstand, as Liam puts on a deep red tie. He slips on his jacket to complete the look, checking the pockets a few times, and the couple walks out of their private quarters, headed to Liam’s study, a guard a few steps behind, watching from a safe distance. Kendall demanded that they get better security, so they are currently in the process of testing out a few ex-military men and women.

Bastien greets them at the door to the study with a quick bow. “Your Majesties.”

“Hello Bastien. I take it our guests have settled in?” Liam asks.

“Yes, they’ve been in here for about 10 minutes.”

“And they haven’t caused any trouble right?”

Bastien shrugs. “They’re about as well behaved as we can expect them to be. No red flags, sir.”

“Very well.” Liam squeezes his wife’s hand, and she squeezes back. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Bastien steps aside and lets them in. Bradshaw and Isabella are there, Isabella checking her nails, a bored expression on her face, Bradshaw standing at the bar cart, sipping on a glass of scotch. Liam bites down on his tongue in order to prevent himself from berating Bradshaw and calling him a tacky piece of shit for taking it upon himself to get a drink.

Kendall squeezes his hand once more before dropping it. “Bradshaw, Isabella! How was your flight here?”

“Nice. Thanks for sending your jet to get us.”

“No problem.”

“I will say your security detail is extremely...thorough,” Bradshaw continues. “They took all of my wife’s jewelry, all of our electronics. I couldn’t even keep my lucky handkerchief.”

“It’s a new security protocol,��� Liam says. “This palace has been through...trying times recently, so we decided to take the necessary precautions. Surely you two understand.”

“Of course!” Isabella says brightly, trying to keep things as light as possible. She looks Kendall up and down, silently appraising the new mother. Kendall looks good, with her dewy skin, long brown hair drawn into a low ponytail and simple black dress. “Kendall, you look amazing! I could barely get out of bed for the first month after having my twins and I looked like a whale, but you’re glowing.”

“Thank you, Queen Isabella.”

“Yeah, you’d think after such a...traumatic birthing experience, you’d be lying low,” Bradshaw adds. “You must be made of steel.”

If the mention of her labor brought up any sort of emotion, Kendall refuses to show it. Liam studies her, and she remains absolutely calm, as if she didn’t hear Bradshaw at all.

“I’m from New York,” Kendall says with a shrug. “We’re tough people. Resilient.”

“I can see.”

“Why don’t we all have a seat?” Liam suggests. “There’s a lot that we have to talk about.”

“First and foremost, congrats on the little bundle of joy!” Isabella says excitedly. “Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Liam confirms. “Named Eleanor after my late mother.” Isabella coos.

“A little princess! A future queen.” Bradshaw nods approvingly. “Congratulations.”

“Where is the princess?” Isabella asks. “We’d love to officially meet her.”

“She’s with her grandmother right now,” Kendall says. “And she’s only two weeks old, so she’s not accepting visitors at the moment.”

Isabella falters a bit but she quickly recovers. Kendall can tell she wasn’t expecting that as a response. “Very well. I guess we’ll have to meet her at another time.”

“When the rest of the world meets her at her anointing ceremony,” Kendall says, her tone short. “And not a moment sooner.”

“Now, now, Queen Kendall, simmer down,” Bradshaw starts. “You’re mighty tense for someone who’s practically family at this point.”

Kendall reels back, mostly in shock that Bradshaw had the audacity to get so familiar with her. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“The condescending orders may work for you and your marriage, King Bradshaw, but please never again make the foolish mistake of telling my wife what to do, especially in our home,” Liam warns, his jaw getting tense. “And thank you for bringing up this marriage alliance, because it’s the perfect segue.”

“When should we make the announcement?” Isabella asks. “I was thinking we could host a small gathering first, just so the kids get acquainted with each other first. I’m sure Isaac and Lyra will absolutely adore Eleanor.”

“That won’t be happening,” Kendall says with a shake of her head. “But speaking of Isaac and Lyra, I found out some wonderful information not too long ago.” Kendall sits back in her seat, beaming. “You two are married in name only.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear, and it’s a pretty straightforward concept to grasp. Bradshaw needed a wife, Isabella was a gold digger and just cunning enough to get what she wanted. Match made in Hell if you ask me. You guys both have people on the side, and you live separate lives.”

Bradshaw is visibly flustered, but after a few tense seconds, he chuckles. “With all due respect, our marriage is none of your concern. And that had nothing to do with our children.”

“Oh, but it is and it does,” Kendall says. “Bradshaw, you don’t appreciate the art of storytelling. I’m building to my point. You guys are married on paper only. Which is fine, live how you want to live. But on my maternity leave, I’ve been doing a lot of reading. And I’ve been particularly fond of Auvernese history and inheritance laws.”

“What about it?”

“Six hundred years ago, your ancestor, King Marshall, married a woman named Catherine. He was still the Crown Prince at the time, they were young and in love. Sounds simple enough, but Catherine had been previously married, and that marriage produced a son, Harold. This was quite a scandal, for multiple reasons. But Marshall and Catherine wanted to be married. Marshall’s parents were against it, no way the heir could marry a divorcee, with a child. But Marshall persisted. After a long standoff, the then king Erik relented, but on one condition. He put it in writing that under no circumstances could a non-blood relative receive land or titles through royalty, and heirs were only legitimate if they were conceived within the marriage. The monarchy was to flow solely through the bloodline, come Hell or high water. Marshall accepted, and the amendment was added to your country’s Constitution, a document that can only be added to, never taken away from. It’s a harsh, strict law, and many people have fought it, but your country’s Supreme Court has never overturned it, nor has the European Court of Human Rights. Anyway, Marshall married Catherine, and they lived happily ever after, having 3 children of their own.”

“Now that I’m done with my history lesson, I’m sure you’re wondering what my point is,” Kendall continues. Her eyes flicker over to Isabella, who’s glaring daggers at her. “You want to tell him, or should I?”

Bradshaw looks between the two women, “Tell me what?”

“That your treaty mandates that the Crown Prince or Princess of Cordonia, child to King Liam and Queen Kendall, is to marry Prince Isaac, or Princess Lyra of Aurvernal, child of King Bradshaw and Queen Isabella, thereby uniting the two countries. Those are the exact words, your words. But Bradshaw, the problem with that is, you don’t have any children.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bradshaw, don’t listen to a word this woman says,” Isabella orders.

Kendall rolls her eyes at the demand. “Bella over here, was very reckless and wasn’t cautious of her ovulation cycle or taking precautions, because she didn’t get pregnant with your children. The twins belong to someone else. I did a little digging, and voila!” Kendall moves her arms dramatically, the boisterous New Yorker coming out. “I found the truth.”

The silence in the office is so thick, it threatens to stifle everyone.

“I don’t believe you,” Bradshaw says.

“I don’t care. Notice how your wife hasn’t jumped in to defend herself or deny my allegations.”

Bradshaw turns to Isabella, his glare so cold, it could’ve frozen her on the spot. “She’s lying, right?” She doesn’t say anything in response and he bangs his fist on the table in front of him, making her jump. “RIGHT?!”

“Bradshaw, I’m sorry. They’re still yours in–”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you!” It’s one thing to cheat. Bradshaw doesn’t care about that. But his wife’s recklessness could crumble the monarchy.

“She could’ve gotten away with it, because those children are a spitting image of their mother, it’s almost scary. No one would bat an eyelash or ask questions.” Kendall thinks back to the spy mission Olivia completed last week, a trip to the hospital the twins were born at. This information came about after she knocked out a few guards and scoured the family’s medical records records. “But it’s simple biology. A woman with type A blood, and a man with type AB blood cannot produce two children with type O. Now, as for the true, biological father, that is something I don’t know, but Isabella is currently sleeping with her personal bodyguard so it may be him.”

Liam waits on bated breath as he watches the exchange. Bradshaw’s face is beet red, and Liam is on guard, defensive just in case the other king decides to do something stupid. 

“So you see, Eleanor isn’t going to be marrying your son, ever. Or your daughter.”

Bradshaw dismisses Kendall’s words with a hand wave. He’s not letting go so easily. “I signed their birth certificate, I am their father. Your husband signed a treaty, whether you like it or not. And the fact that you just admitted to breaking countless laws with your little espionage scheme is grounds enough to get you into a lot of trouble.”

“Prove it,” Kendall challenges. “Prove that I had someone access those records, and that I’ve been collecting intel. I’m already done so you didn’t catch me red handed, and there’s no proof of my admission. The two of you were thoroughly searched and stripped of any cell phones, recorders, and cameras. Our guards have 24/7 security footage in this office, so on the off chance you were able to get in here with any of the aforementioned items, you would’ve been caught planting them before this meeting began. And besides, you push this issue any further, I will demand a paternity test on the world stage, and then all eyes will be on us. You’d rather die than publicly admit your wife cheated on you and someone else fathered those children.”

“I’ll have children with Bradshaw, easily,” Isabella says quickly. “Problem solved.”

Kendall grimaces sarcastically. “You specifically named Isaac and Lyra in the treaty. Had you not done that, your plan could’ve worked. Nice try though, and kudos for the quick thinking.”

Bradshaw glares at Kendall and then stands. Clenching his fist, he tries to breathe, to calm down. “You insolent, little girl. You think because you’ve read a few history books that you’re so smart and you can play politics? You think you can blackmail or extort me?” He scoffs before turning to Liam. “I know she gets your dick wet every once in a while, but you’re letting your commoner wife dictate you and shape international diplomacy?”

Liam’s nostrils flare but before he can reach across the table to attack Bradshaw, Kendall’s places a comforting hand on his shoulder, signaling for him to remain seated. There’s no need for violence when they clearly have the upper hand.

“I don’t think I’m smart. My bachelors degree from Brown in Policy Analysis and my Master’s from Columbia speak volumes all by themselves. There’s no need for vulgarity and petty insults because you aren’t intelligent or mature enough to comport yourself professionally.”

“I figured you wouldn’t back down after the whole paternity fiasco, and that’s fine.” Kendall shrugs with nonchalance. “We can involve the United Nations and the International Law Commission, and have them review that treaty if that’s what you want. But when I get in front of an audience and turn on the waterworks, crying about how my unborn daughter and I nearly died in the middle of a hostage situation, and instead of helping though you had the means to do so, you strong-armed my husband into signing a sham treaty, I don’t think that’ll go over too well for you.”

“It’s politics,” Bradshaw snarls. “You got bested.”

“No, it was a shitty coercion attempt. And a direct violation of Article 51 of the Vienna Convention Treaty, something your ancestors signed.”

“You don’t want to go down this road with me, with Auvernal,” Bradshaw continues, his eyes getting black as coal. “We want to be adults about this alliance, but please don’t force my hand. We can either be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy.”

“You’ve been not-so-subtly hinting at war or a hostile occupation of Cordonia for over a year, and we’re not afraid of it. Like I’ve told my husband, I am not afraid of war. In this case, I’d welcome it gladly..”

“Ooh, such big fighting words.”

“Bradshaw, stop it!” Isabella hisses. He was always one for threats and brute force, when it wasn’t necessary.

“Shut up, you traitorous whore.” Bradshaw keeps his eyes on Kendall. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Well, the choice is yours. Excuse me, the choice belongs to the monarch. I keep forgetting who is who, considering your husband lets you wear the pants in this relationship.”

Liam sighs. Bradshaw wants to get a rise out of him for some reason, and it’s almost amusing. 

He gets out of his seat and starts walking around the office. His movements are poised and he glides across the room, until he’s standing where Bradshaw is. “Unlike you, Bradshaw, I actually respect my wife. She’s strong and intelligent, and she has my full support in whatever we do. Your attempts to belittle her for being my queen consort are weak and baseless. And because she doesn’t want me to react, I won’t.” 

“Of course not.” Bradshaw smirks. “Oh, King Liam the Gentle Hearted. You’ve always been the weakling, the coward. Too afraid to actually do something, opting to always play it safe. Tell me, how’s that working out for you? For your people? All the bombings and assassination attempts? How’d that work out for your precious daddy, Constan–”

Bradshaw can’t finish the question because in a flash, Liam pulls a dagger out of his suit pocket and trains it at Bradshaw’s throat, the tip of the blade just barely touching his Adam’s apple.

“Ohmygod!” The words fly out of Isabella’s mouth so fast, she stumbles over them. Liam motions for her to stay calm and seated.

“What was that?” Liam asks. “Please continue to speak on my late father, I dare you. Go on, I want to hear what you were about to say about him.” Bradshaw stays silent, his eyes trained on the dagger. “Eyes on me, Bradshaw.” Liam hits Bradshaw under the chin, forcing the other man to look him in the eye.

“I am so sick and tired of people mistaking my kindness for weakness. I try to be a good leader. Thoughtful and compassionate. I just don’t want my people to fear me, to cower in my presence. It’s so easy to rule like you do, through fear and intimidation. That’s the true cowardice. And yes, I am a kind man, but don’t ever in your poor excuse for a life attempt to write me off as weak or cowardice. The Queen was correct, you do not scare us in the slightest. You’re nothing more than a little man with a Napoleon complex and a need to overcompensate for your own shortcomings, with a wife who honestly couldn't care less if you live or die. Your country is broke and falling apart at the seams because all of your resources go to an oversized military and flashy attractions, so you bulldoze your way into other territories to offset the damage, but hear me well when I say Cordonia will not be one of them.”

Kendall’s breath hitches in her throat at the unexpected action. Liam pulling a dagger - no doubt a gift from Olivia - on Bradshaw wasn’t part of their plan. But she wants to see where this goes, what his next move is. She’s known Liam to get upset before, but this is something new, this tense, tight-lidded rage. Where Bradshaw is one to puff out his chest, yell, and make threats in order to cause confusion and chaos, Liam moves like a ninja, swift, direct, and lethal.

“You want a war? We can go, in an instant. This country may be small and peaceful, but we descend from strong leaders and brave warriors. And be advised, that I’ve been through a lot this past year, and I have a lot of rage inside of me. Keep poking the bear, Bradshaw, and I will not stop until I personally kill you with my bare hands. I will not rest until I witness the life leave your eyes, and your country is nothing more than ashes and rubble. Just say the word, and it’ll be a done deal.”

“Don’t forget, darling,” Kendall stands to join her husband, but she keeps a watchful eye on Isabella. But the woman is practically frozen in fear, not an imminent threat in the slightest, “that if we go to war, it won’t be just Cordonia and Auvernal. It’ll be Auvernal and the small countries that they’ve seized against Cordonia and her allies. Greece, Italy, Spain, the United Kingdom, Australia, and my home country, the United States.”

“Oh right! Silly me, how could I forget? Thanks for the reminder, my love. So Bradshaw, Isabella, how about we forget the whole alliance and treaty fiasco, right here, right now. Or we can go to war.” Liam shrugs and presses the blade deeper, still careful not to break the skin. “Or how about I end this right now, slit your throat, and let you die a slow death, bleeding from your jugular and choking on your own blood. I don’t want to do that, because it’ll stain my very expensive floors, but I will. The choice is yours.”

“We withdraw!” Isabella exclaims, finally standing. “We’ll forget the whole thing, we’ll call it all off! Just put the weapon down, please!”

“Isabella, didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

Liam tsks. “Listen to your wife, Bradshaw.”

“Bradshaw, are you truly prepared to die here?” Isabella asks. “Is all of this worth it? Put your foolish pride aside for once in your damn life! It’s over.”

Bradshaw looks Liam in the eye, knowing that the other king isn’t bluffing. Slowly, he raises his hands in the air. “We concede.”

“Good. That wasn’t so hard was it?” Liam lowers his dagger and Bradshaw releases a sigh of relief. “But just one more thing.”

“What?”

Liam extends his arm, the dagger slashing out and quickly plunging into Bradshaw’s side. Shouting in pain, Bradshaw falls to his knees. “I may not kill you for your disrespect towards my wife, holding her life over my head, and threatening war against me, but I can’t let you leave unscathed. But fear not, it’s a minor wound and I didn’t hit any arteries, because unlike you, I’m a skilled fighter and I know what I’m doing.”

Isabella jumps out of her seat, and rushes to Bradshaw's side, pressing into the wound to stop the bleeding.

Kendall takes in the scene. She didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy for the pathetic man-child writhing in pain on the floor, or his wife for that matter. Had Liam killed him where he stood, she probably would have have batted a mascara-covered eyelash. “Bastien!”

At the urgent calling of his name, the King’s guard enters the office. His eyes immediately fall onto Liam and Kendall, before taking in Bradshaw and Isabella. “Is everything alright in here, Your Majesties?”

“Excellent!” Kendall exclaims. “We’re actually done here, so if you could see to it that Bradshaw gets that nasty wound patched up and send the happy couple on their way, that’d be great.”

Bastien nods. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Bradshaw, Isabella, it was a pleasure having this meeting with you, and our attorneys will be in contact soon.” Kendall reaches for Liam’s hand. “Ready to go?”

“Ready.”

~v~

Liam’s feet dig into the soft carpeted floor of his bedroom as he walks into the en-suite. His eyes immediately land on his wife, who’s in their marble tub, covered in bubbles, sipping out of a bottle of Dom Perignon.

“Slow down, Speed Racer,” he teases.

“Eleanor doesn’t need to get fed for a few more hours, and I think I deserve this champagne.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I just don’t want you to get a headache.”

“I’ll drink a few glasses of water before I go to sleep.” Kendall holds the bottle out to Liam, offering him some, but he declines. So she just sits it on the floor. “Is Nori asleep?”

“She is. I swear, she’s the most alert and stubborn newborn on earth. She did not go down easily.”

“You’re already being bested by our daughter?”

“I know you two have been conspiring against me while she was still in the womb.” Liam smiles softly. “But I am still the champion, she eventually settled.”

“Good.”

“Enjoying your bath?”

“Yes. Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Liam chuckles. “Your skin will get incredibly dry and wrinkly.”

“I’m sure that’s nothing a few spa treatments and some heavy duty shea butter can’t fix.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Kendall answers with a dramatic sigh. The day was long and she’s been running on pure adrenaline, it’s easy to forget she did push out a human just two short weeks ago, under very extreme circumstances. “And sore. I never want to wear heels again.”

Liam crouches down, getting on his knees at the edge of the tub. Reaching in he grabs one of Kendall’s feet and pulls it out of the water. Carefully he presses his thumb into the arch.

“Mhmm. I always forget that you moonlight as a masseuse.”

“Only for you.”

“It better be,” Kendall shoots back with a smirk.

“After the day we’ve had, I say you’ve more than earned a foot massage.”

“Ugh.” Kendall slips further into the tub before resurfacing. “I cannot stand those smug, overbearing assholes. Thank God we’re done with them.”

“Do you really think we’ve seen the last of them?”

“You probably pissed Bradshaw off when you stabbed him,” Kendall says pointedly, the mischievous look on her face betraying the seriousness in her tone. “But I do. They’re underhanded and sneaky, the threat of us exposing them publicly and involving superpower countries is enough to stave them off. But like we both said, war is on the table if push comes to shove.”

“Can I just say that you were absolutely amazing today.” Liam can’t get rid of the goofy grin on his face if he tries. He’s in awe of his wife, of her wit and strength.

Liam switches feet and she sighs in content. “Yes, please sing my praises.”

“I cannot believe how courageous you were, how absolutely brilliant. I’ve never seen anyone able to stand up to Bradshaw the way you did.”

“The same could be said for you. You were ready to kill him then and there. By the way, I was not anticipating that at all, but you had them scared shitless.

“The only reason I was able to do that is because I knew I had you in my corner the entire time.”

“I’ll always be in your corner, Liam.”

“I know, and I need to trust that. But all praise aside, I should have never put you in this position to begin with you. You should be spending this time relaxing and being with our baby, not getting involved in dirty politics.”

“Stop it!” Kendall wrangles her foot out of Liam’s grasps, and hits him in the chest with it. Liam looks down at the sudsy print on his chest incredulously. 

“Did you really just hit me with your foot?”

“Yes!” He’s going down that slippery slope of insecurity and self loathing. “I’m the Queen, I know my job will never be done. This past week has been stressful, yes, but it has not taken away from my maternity leave or my time with Eleanor. I can multitask, you know.”

“I know, I just wish you didn’t have to be burdened with the weight of the crown at a time like this.”

“Stop apologizing,” Kendall orders. “I’ve forgiven you and it’s all in the past now. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

The corner of Liam’s mouth quirks up, a hint of a smirk on his face. He loves his wife’s commanding side. He leans over the tub so he’s hovering above her. “As you command, my queen.”

“The Queen also commands a kiss.”

“That can be arranged.” Liam surges forward, one hand reaching out to cup his wife’s cheek, the other getting tangled in her now damp hair and captures her lips in a kiss.

Kendall hums in satisfaction and sits up to deepen the kiss. Water sloshes out the side of the tub, soaking Liam’s pajama bottoms, but neither of them care. Her hands travel to his back, pulling him closer.

Too soon for either of their liking, Liam breaks the kiss with a groan. “4 more weeks. That is a depressingly long time from now.”

“Do you have the willpower?”

“I don’t know, but let’s not test it and disobey doctor’s orders.” Liam kisses the tip of her nose. “As soon as you’re cleared, I’m taking you to Valtoria, and we’re going to spend a few days in the small cottage you had built on the property. And I’m not letting you come up for air.”

A chill runs down the length of her spine. “Mhmm, don’t threaten me with a good time, Rys.”

“Oh, it’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” Liam reaches back into the tub and pulls the drain. He grabs a large towel and unfolds it. “Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Liam helps his wife out of the tub and drapes the towel across her shoulders. She shivers dramatically, her teeth clicking together for added effect. He knows she’s putting on a show, but he curls her into his side, which is what she wanted.

After changing into the closest pair of pajamas she can find—really just a pair of Liam’s sweats and an old Knicks t-shirt—and peaking into the bassinet at their bedside, Kendall finally collapses onto their bed. Liam joins her, loosely slinging his arm around her midsection. The smell of whatever fruity bubble bath she was just using invades his senses, but he welcomes the scent, his eyes closing instinctively. Kendall smells like home to him.

Kendall turns around in order to look at her husband’s face. For the first time in a long time, he looks peaceful. The outcome of the day instantly took 5 years off of his appearance, and she’s glad. She hates that he carries so much stress with him at all times. 

“Hey Liam,” she whispers, poking his arm.

“What is it?” He asks, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“I love you.”

That gets a smile out of him. His grip on her tightens slightly. “I love you more.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus another infinity, for good measure,” Liam shoots back.

“One of these days, I’m going to win.”

“But not today. Now get some sleep.”

Kendall gets closer to Liam, until she’s practically on top of him. His heartbeat is slow and steady underneath her head, and the rhythmic thump slowly pulls her into unconsciousness.

Today was a victory. Sure the kingdom of Cordonia had other things to face, but Kendall takes comfort in knowing that she’ll face them with Liam, as a team. The two of them together are unstoppable.

Today was officially the start of their happily ever after.

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (8)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.3k (this chapter), 26.5k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

It's a very long night. The quiet in the space between Phil and Chris where three people should be sleeping peacefully is making Phil's nerves feel stretched thin, like he can't settle. The wheel of worst case scenarios is off its axis completely; there is just one thing, one scenario, blaring in Phil's mind like an air raid siren.

What if they don't wake up? What if they're stuck like this, eyes wide and bodies stiff like boards? Phil never got the rest of that sleep paralysis story from Dan. He has no idea how it ended.

He's not usually afraid anymore, not about things that he deals with regularly in his line of work, but this is shaking him in a way few things ever have. He feels clammy, and he laments how his palm must feel against Dan's warm forehead.

“How long has it been?” Phil asks, his voice creaking like the floorboards.

“Few hours,” says Chris. There's no mask in place, just wariness and worry and a little bit of anger. Phil hopes that isn't directed at him - technically, he didn't even invite Chris or Sophie up here. It's probably a good thing that they are here, though, because he'd be so certain that he'd reached a breaking point of sanity if he were alone up here with a catatonic PJ. Instead, the tension between them is kickstarting Phil's anxiety over and over, revving it up like an engine that won't start.

It's not long after that exchange that PJ gasps, sitting up and scrabbling at his chest like he's trying to get something off of it. Phil could almost cry with relief.

Chris crawls over and takes PJ's hands in his, resting their foreheads together and attempting a shaky smile. It's so intimate that Phil has to look away, rove his gaze over Dan's pretty face and wait for them to wake, too.

“Fuck,” PJ is saying, his voice so shaky that Phil can almost feel it. “Fuck, fuck, that was - Chris, we can't stay here.”

“Shh, we'll leave soon,” Chris promises. “You okay?”

“Obviously I'm not fucking okay, am I?”

“No need to be a dick about it,” Chris says sharply. Now Phil really doesn't want to be present for this. “What the hell happened? You looked - you looked so frozen, Peej, it was awful.”

Another loud gasp, this one softer. Phil listens to Sophie try to get lungfuls of air and Chris torn between arguing with PJ and checking that she's okay. He trails his fingers down the side of Dan's face and presses them to their pulse point, because he's paranoid like that.

Dan's hand comes up to engulf Phil's, holding tight as they squeeze their eyes shut and turn their face into the floor.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs, turning his hand over so he can properly grip Dan's hand. “Hey, you alright in there? Not gonna throw up on me or anything, are you?”

Dan laughs weakly. “No. Fuck, that... that sucked.”

“Were you awake?” Phil asks, resisting the urge to keep running his fingers through Dan's hair now that they're conscious. They roll onto their back, holding Phil's hand to their chest, and take deep breaths.

“I was,” they say, quiet.

That sounds horrible. Phil has never experienced regular sleep paralysis, let alone one instigated by ghost stories and shared with practical strangers, but he's looked into it a little bit. He glances up to see how Sophie and PJ are handling things. They're murmuring amongst themselves while Chris starts to pack up their things, a furrow between his brows.

“Let's get out of here,” says Phil. He squeezes Dan's hand and Dan squeezes back, their chest heaving like they can't get enough air. “You guys okay to move yet?”

“Yeah,” Dan breathes. They sit up slowly, still gripping Phil’s hand. Phil gets both of them to their feet with only minor stumbling, steadying Dan with his hands on their waist. Dan doesn’t even seem to notice, let alone mind. “Fuck. Jesus. My head hurts so fucking bad, Phil.”

“Shh, I know,” Phil says, trying to emulate the tone his mum uses when he’s feeling poorly. Dan inhales shakily and leans into his touch like maybe it’s helping. Phil resists the urge to push their curls off their forehead again. “Let’s go.”

--

They’re piling things back into PJ’s car - after using the door to get out this time, because there’s no way Chris can manage getting three people out of the window, and Phil would drop someone - when Phil realises that Dan is just sort of standing on the pavement with their arms wrapped around themself again, chewing their lip.

“Hey,” says Phil. “Do you work today?”

Dan jolts like they’re surprised to be addressed. They have to think about it for a moment, but then they shake their head.

Before Phil can be the one to offer, PJ gestures at his car. “You’re coming with us, then. We’re gonna recuperate and compare experiences and all that junk.” He pauses. “Well, first, I want a nap. Are you okay to drive, Chris?”

“I can drive,” says Phil. PJ doesn’t dignify that with a response.

“I’m fine to drive,” Chris says, his voice still grim and a bit more genuine than Phil is used to hearing. He takes the keys from PJ, squeezing his hand in the same motion.

Sophie crawls into the backseat and puts her head between her knees. Phil can’t tell if she’s feeling sick still or if she’s napping in the most uncomfortable way possible, but he decides not to bother her. He watches Chris help PJ into the front seat and doesn’t bother protesting that Dan ought to sit in the front when their legs are the longest.

“You okay, love?” Chris asks Sophie. She gives him a thumbs up without raising her head.

Phil looks around for Dan, who hasn’t moved any closer to the car. They look hesitant and so young, suddenly, on the dark Rusholme street. Dawn hasn’t even broken yet. There’s no way in hell that Phil is leaving them here.

“Get in the car, Dan,” Phil says, quiet. “We can take you home if you don’t want to come back to mine, but I need you to get in.”

After another moment where Dan’s teeth dig into their lower lip, they finally nod and come forward. Phil holds the door open and waits for them to get in, messenger bag slung into their lap and knees comically high from how tall they are in the somewhat cramped backseat. Sophie is so small, but that doesn’t stop Phil’s thigh from pressing completely against Dan’s once he settles himself in as well.

They don’t even know each other, really, so Phil expects Dan to be put off by it. Instead, they sigh and lean a bit further into Phil’s space. By the time Chris has gotten them out of the city proper, their head is resting on Phil’s shoulder and their eyes are closed.

Phil can’t imagine that his bony shoulder is very comfortable, but considering Sophie’s snoring a bit in her ball of limbs and PJ has contorted into a weird position with his mouth wide open, maybe any pillow at all will do. Chris meets Phil’s eyes in the rearview and Phil grimaces at him. This is almost as concerning as the hours of waiting, as much as Phil tries to logic away the anxiety swirling inside him. Of course they’re tired - Phil is tired, too, and the bags under Chris’ eyes are even more prominent than usual.

He can’t help the worry, though. The same worry he’s been fighting all night: what if they don’t wake up?

Careful not to jostle Dan, Phil reaches down to press the tips of his fingers against the pulse point in their wrist. Just to make himself feel a bit better about it.

--

The weak sun has started to rise by the time they all clamber out of PJ’s car, and Phil is grateful for that. His dad, at least, should be awake in case the house is locked tight. His friends don’t look any less tired, but Chris has a mask back in place like it never wavered. Phil tries to do that, too, just in case his anxiety is burrowing through his skin and making his parents worry. He sees Dan looking around in vague bewilderment and makes a mental note to tell them where they’ve been kidnapped to.

Luckily, the doorknob turns when Phil tries it. He holds it open and lets everyone file in. Part of him wants to look them all over for signs of wear and tear and possible possession, but most of him just wants a shield between himself and his parents’ disappointed faces.

Sure enough, his dad comes out of the kitchen as they’re all taking off their shoes, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Morning, sir,” Chris says, the charm in his voice alarmingly good considering Phil knows he’s freaking out at least a little bit.

“Good morning, Christopher,” Phil’s dad says. His expression doesn’t change when he looks over the group, but Phil knows in his gut that he’s noticing Dan’s shirt-dress and makeup. He has no idea what his dad thinks about it. He also realises, to some degree of detached surprise, that he doesn’t particularly care. “You’ve multiplied.”

Dan flushes. It seems like they don’t know what to say, but Chris is on the ball.

“Just adopted a stray,” he laughs quietly. He takes Sophie by the wrist and pulls her gently along, past Phil’s dad. “Been up all night, though, Nige, so I hope you don’t mind us copping a snooze.”

“By all means,” Phil’s dad says, this time with a small smile that Phil is pretty sure everybody else thinks is genuine.

PJ follows with a sheepish little wave and Dan hesitates, clearly unsure what they should do now. Phil smiles at them and hopes it looks more sincere than his dad’s does. “Just go upstairs,” he murmurs, gesturing at his friends’ backs. “You can sleep in my room at the end of the hall - or with Chris in the guest, if you’d like.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s pretty sure Chris won’t be in the guest room, because he has enough to explain to his father already.

“Okay,” says Dan, quiet. They bite their lip and duck their head as they pass Phil’s dad.

As soon as the entry is empty of Phil’s little gaggle of awkward adults, the silence feels so much worse. Phil bends over to untie his boots and try to settle his heart, which isn’t at all working normally.

There’s a very pointed pause where they both wait for the other to say something first, but Phil breaks first. He always does.

“Look, we’re fine,” he starts.

“You don’t seem fine, Philip,” his dad says, and oh, god, if the full name is getting pulled out this early then he’s in for quite the talking-to. “You all look like you’ve been on some kind of drug binge, stumbling ‘round like that. I knew you would be trespassing last night and you already know I wasn’t very happy with that, but I figured you’d at least come home all pleased with yourself.”

“We had a bit of a scare is all,” says Phil. He kicks off his shoes and stands up. His stomach is rolling with that familiar stress of letting the people down who love him most, but it’s backed by the steel stubbornness he inherited from them. “It’s my job, dad.”

“Is it,” his dad says, flatly.

Phil sighs and hangs his jacket up on the coat hook that his friends had smartly bypassed to get to safety. “Yes. It is. I make decent money doing this, you know that.”

“I do.” Great, now his dad has resorted to short, dry responses. It’s designed to get Phil to start rambling, trying to fill that godawful pressurizing silence, and sometimes that works. Phil has had this conversation so many times that he knows there isn’t anything new he or his dad could say to each other on the topic, though, and he’s so tired and so worried that he just shrugs.

“So, there you have it,” says Phil. “May I be excused?”

When his dad sighs, Phil has the thought that it sounds just like Martyn. Irritated but still that unbreakable affection underneath it, that solid bedrock that Phil relies on. Even when he and his family don’t see eye to eye on things, there’s never any doubt in that love.

“Get some rest, Phil,” his dad says, quiet and on that edge of disappointment that Phil tries so hard to avoid.

Phil nods and shoves his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t reach out for a hug on his way to the stairs. The last thing he needs right now is to have a complete breakdown in his dad’s arms. If anything is going to get his parents to start actively campaigning for him to leave Brighton instead of just hinting at it every few months, it would be that.

Neither of them really love what he does. They love him, and always will, but they’re nervous about the laws that Phil breaks and the supernatural things that Phil actively invites into his life. He wonders if it would be easier or more difficult if they were skeptics.

Phil is so lost in thought that he forgets someone is waiting in his room until he closes the door behind him.

“Oh,” he says, blinking.

“Sorry,” Dan says immediately. They’re sitting on the edge of Phil’s old bed with muscles so tense that it looks like they’re about to jump up and run at the first sign of trouble. “I just - I don’t know, I feel so stupid, I just didn’t want to be alone, and -”

“It’s okay,” Phil tells them, holding up his hands like he’s trying to calm a scared animal. “I don’t want to be alone, either. That was pretty fucking scary.”

The stiff position of Dan’s shoulders relax forward and they nod, picking at a loose thread in their flannel. “Yeah it, uh. Kind of was.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” says Dan.

“Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?”

Dan blinks up at Phil, looking more surprised than Phil thinks is warranted. He’s been an alright host, all things considered, and he isn’t about to make Dan sleep in jeans and a face full of product. “Um. Okay.”

“We’re about the same size,” Phil says, well aware that he’s rambling to fill the silence in a way he didn’t let himself be baited into downstairs. He grabs his bag from the corner he’d kicked it into earlier and grabs a couple of t-shirts, a pair of joggers, and his bright flannel pyjama pants. He always overpacks when he plans to be spending a night or two in allegedly haunted places, because he’s had the unfortunate experience of getting mud on his clothes in a leaky basement and then just having to live with that.

He tosses the options to Dan and tells them to choose as he searches for a notebook. He wants to get his experience down on paper before he sleeps and the sharp edges of it start to fade.

“Bathroom’s next door,” he thinks to say as he digs. “Mum probably has some makeup, er, wipes? In the medicine cabinet.”

“Thank you,” Dan says softly.

Their footsteps are quiet and so is the door that closes behind them. Phil finds something to scrawl in and tries to ignore the way his fingers are shaking.

He manages to get everything on paper, from the feeling of hundreds of eyes to the bathroom lights flickering to how awful it was to watch his friends stare, unseeing, into the middle distance for hours on end.

Phil doesn't completely believe in ghosts, not the way his parents or PJ do, but this… yeah, he's going to give this one to the Manchester students.

Dan still hasn't come back when Phil puts the notebook away, so he changes at lightspeed into his ugly flannel pants and spends a few minutes considering whether or not he should move his pillow to the wall side of the bed or leave it where it is. He's overthinking this, he knows he is. He shares bed space with his friends often enough that this isn't a totally foreign thing for him, but Dan is such a new friend - with unreasonably pretty eyes and unreasonably big hands - that it's making Phil's stomach flutter with nerves.

He's finally given up on the whole thinking thing and gotten into bed when the door opens and Dan tiptoes in with a bundle of clothes under their arm.

“Oh,” they say, stopping in their tracks, and Phil almost laughs at the reaction mirroring his own when he came in. “Sorry, I didn't expect you to still be up. Er, I ran into your mum. She's really nice.”

Phil groans. He should have expected his mum to be prowling around to corner his friends. “God, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, she’s lovely,” says Dan. They look around the room, a bit awkward, before setting their clothes on top of the dresser. “Your room is nice.”

“It’s not really mine anymore,” Phil says, doing his level best to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He knows it isn’t the healthiest thing, to be so bothered by the beige carpet and white walls and neutral furnishings, but he can’t help himself. He’s never been comfortable with big changes.

He looks at Dan while Dan is distracted by a family photo on the wall. Their bare face looks so young that, if Phil didn’t already know how old they were, he’d think they were in sixth form or something. Phil’s clothes fit them well, just a bit tighter around the shoulders and stomach than they are on him. They look - cute, is the thing, and Phil stamps down on his sleep-deprived crushing nonsense.

“Coming to bed?” Phil asks, immediately making a face. The phrasing is accidental but, really, more Freudian than he cares to admit.

Dan laughs, so maybe it’s okay.

They dimple and climb over him instead of asking him to move, which has Phil holding his breath. They smell like mint and spice and Phil’s own laundry detergent and as they flop onto their back, their arm overlaps with Phil’s a bit. The bed isn’t small, and even though they’re both quite large humans, Phil is pretty sure they don’t have to be touching.

“You okay?” Dan asks, quiet. Phil doesn’t turn to look at them, because he doesn’t trust himself to have those hypnotizing brown eyes so close while they’re horizontal.

“I will be,” Phil tells the ceiling. “Are you?”

“Kinda. Is it always like that?”

Phil huffs a laugh and lets his pinky and ring fingers curl around Dan’s hand, doing his best to ignore the way his heart races at the action. “It’s never like that,” he murmurs. “That was terrifying and I’m going to have nightmares and, also, the video is going to be buckwild.”

“I forgot we were even filming one,” Dan laughs. “Is that weird?”

“This whole thing is a little weird, Dan,” says Phil. He feels his lips curving up and he lets go of Dan’s hand to take his glasses off. “Do you want the light off?”

It takes a moment, but Dan does respond with a soft, sheepish, “No. Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Phil says honestly. He curls up on his side and tries to even out his breathing. His anxiety and crush and sleep deprivation are all coordinating to make his mind race, but he’s so very, very tired. He feels Dan’s warmth, just behind him, and that helps. After only a little inner turmoil, Phil is able to fall asleep.

[marshmallow-phd]

Innocent Intentions

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Summary: There was one thing you couldn’t stand in all your years at college: playboys. And the campus was riddled with them. So when Tao - a player with a particularly well-known reputation - inserts himself into your life, you come up with a plan to get rid of him, whether he makes your heart race or not. But the more he’s the around, the more you just might find there’s a hidden layer underneath all the rumors, including a secret you never could have guessed….

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

You knew you shouldn’t have walked into the math lab on Friday hoping for a different outcome, but you did anyway and the level of disappointment that you came as a shock. Tao stayed true to his word and didn’t showed up for another “tutoring session”. It was pointless to call them that anymore as he didn’t need the help. Hell, he was probably better at it than you. But you liked spending that time with him. You liked his stupid jokes and the way a sparkle appeared in his eyes when he was looking at you. It made you feel… well, it made you feel pretty damn special. And the way he was constantly chasing after you even when it would be easier to turn to the next girl… let’s just say that your faith in him was growing each and every day.

For an hour or so, you sat at your usual table, alone and bored, waiting for this to be the one time he really lied to you and showed up unannounced. You wouldn’t even mind the fib. You’d let it slide because – although admitting it, even just to yourself, was a little humiliating – you missed him.

Groaning, you let your head fall to the table with a hard thunk, not caring about the others around you who probably turned to see what the commotion was.

“You okay, (y/n)?”

You looked up, just slightly turning your head to the side without having to lift it up completely so you could see the intruder. It was Jae. You sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… bored.”

“Well, would you want to finally go grab that coffee?” A very hopeful look was shimmering in Jae’s gaze. Why hadn’t you ever realized before that he liked you like this? Or had he always  been so obvious in the past? Maybe you were now simply more sensitive to it. Poor thing was just a little too late.

You searched for an excuse that sounded real and not pulled out of the air, but each one sounded worse than the last. “Um, well, I-” Your phone vibrated against the table. Saved by the bell. Holding up a finger to Jae to tell him to wait, you slid the green phone icon across the screen to answer the call. “Hey, Wyatt, what’s up?”

“Hey, what are you doing right now?” Wyatt sounded jittery, excited. That was never a good sign.

“Nothing,” you replied nervously. “What’s up?”

“Good. Get your butt over to my place.”

You scoffed playfully. “Why?”

“Just get over here!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” You hung up before Wyatt could tell you to get there in four. Shooting Jae an apologetic look, you explained, “Sorry. Wyatt called and it’s some sort of emergency. Maybe another time?” You cringed internally at adding that open-ended suggestion at the end. Now you were digging yourself a hole that you would have to climb out of all over again in the future.

“Yeah,” Jae nodded sadly. “Maybe another time.”

“I’ll see you later.” You ran out of the math lab, guilt taking a ride on your shoulder until you finally flicked it off outside in the courtyard. There was nothing to feel guilty about. Wyatt called and as one of your best friends, he took priority over a cup of coffee that you weren’t too keen on getting anyway.

Crossing campus, you headed for the Greek court where a majority of the sorority and fraternity houses were located. When Wyatt told you freshman year that he was going to participate in rush week, you were worried that he might have been a little over his head. But the loser fit right in and had been enjoying his time with his “brothers”. You were thankful that he still carved out more than enough time for you and Kendall and he hadn’t turned into one of the huge jerks you’d seen in every college movie ever made.

As you walked into the frat house, the other members strewn across the main room simply waved at you. They knew your face enough to not stop you while you climbed the stairs to the second floor where the rooms were located. Kendall was already lying on Wyatt’s bed, scribbling notes down in a spiral notebook while glancing at the textbook laying open in front of her. Wyatt was sitting at his desk with his phone in his hand. His roommate was absent, giving you leeway to sit on the nicely made bed that was the complete opposite of Wyatt’s tornado-like chaos.

“Okay, what’s the emergency?”

Wyatt looked up from his phone, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Oh, yeah. You were not going to like whatever it was he had called you here for.

“Well, you see,” he purred, “there’s a new bar that opened up a few weeks ago. Kendall and I figured that it’s been long enough that the initial hype has died down that now it should only be moderately busy tonight. So, we’re dragging you with us to check it out.”

Hm… that wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. “Okay. What time?”

Kendall’s pencil stopped scratching against the paper. Wyatt looked at you with round, saucer-like eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I asked what time you wanted to go,” you reiterated. Yes, while the absence of a fight or whine was highly unusual for you, Wyatt caught you in a rare moment. A moment where you wanted to be distracted. Staying home with your parents or even by yourself for the evening was a sure way for you to constantly be wondering about what Tao was doing and why he’d suddenly decided to stay away for so long.

Still staring at you, Wyatt leaned over and fake-whispered to Kendall, “I think she’s been replaced by a body-snatcher.”

“I can clearly hear you,” you grumbled.

“Good,” Wyatt straightened back up. “You were meant to. I was all ready to debate with you. I’d been working on the argument all morning and now all that brain power has gone to waste.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why the sudden attitude change about actually leaving your house?”

You ignored the obvious insult, shrugging. “Kendall said it herself. It’s our last year in college. Might as well make some memories, right?” Please, you begged internally, don’t push anymore. Tao was a secret you desperately needed to hold onto for a little while longer. Or a heck of a lot longer.

Coming to your rescue, Kendall shut her text book and slid off the bed. “Okay, we’ll take what we can get. Let’s go get dinner before the rush starts. After that, we’ll go get ready at your place, okay, (y/n)?”

You nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Wyatt started to protest. “But-”

“Just let it go. You got what you wanted.” Kendall pushed up on Wyatt’s hanging chin, closing it shut for emphasis.

The two of them may be a weird dynamic, but in this moment, you were thankful for the pair of extroverted friends you had.

**

Maybe thankful was a stretch.

Kendall and Wyatt were currently arguing over which round of shots while you sipped slowly on your fruity cocktail that was almost gone. The party crowd had apparently not gotten tired of the newest place to hang out. Occupancy felt dangerously close to fire code max, but your best friends insisted on still checking it out since you were already here. Finding a table that wasn’t claimed was a miracle and you planted your butt down in a seat, refusing to move in case another sharp eyes patron wanted to steal it.

“Fine!” Kendall yelled over the loud music and insistent chatter around you. “We’ll get the stupid gummy bear shots!”

Wyatt slapped the table in triumph before hopping out of his chair and pushing his way through the crowd to the bar. You snickered under your breath, thankful that the laugh was covered up by all the noise of the establishment.

Too soon, Wyatt was back, balancing three glasses that certainly looked bigger than a normal shot in his hands. “Alright, ladies. On three, we drink up.”

Rolling your eyes, you took one of the shots. “This is the last one.” At least one of you needed to remain somewhat sober and you were glad to play the part of the responsible friend.

“Alright,” Kendall agreed, very reluctantly by the grimace on her face.

“Okay,” Wyatt clapped his hands together. “One. Two. Three!” In perfect sync, the three of you gulped back the sweet, candy-like drink and slammed the glasses back down on the table.

“You were right,” Kendall laughed as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “That is delicious.”

You were about to agree on actually liking the taste of that particular drink when a familiar crop of blonde hair caught your eye as it snuck out the front door.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick,” you said suddenly, not even really thinking about what you were aiming to do.

Kendall started to slip out of her chair. “I’ll go with y-”

“No, that’s okay! I’ll be fine!” You were up and disappearing into the sea of drunk students before she could counter you with logic about going off on your own.

Thankfully, the bathrooms and the front entrance were in the same direction, so it didn’t look too weird to be rushing for the door. You just hoped you had enough cover so the others didn’t notice you bypassing your fake destination.

Outside, Tao was standing in the parking lot with a younger student that you recognized. Sehun, you think his name was? He’d been in the math lab once or twice, but you never helped him.

“Look, we don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” Tao sighed. You stayed inside the alcove that covered the entrance, hidden from view as you pressed yourself against the wall. Plenty of people who were coming and going from the bar were sending curious looks your way, but you were too focused on the fair haired friends to notice or care.

“You’re no fun like this,” Sehun barked. “Ever since you met her I’ve been on my own.”

Tao’s shoulders drooped and even from here you could feel the guilt he was emitting. “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sehun scoffed. “She’s the one. She’s made you change, blah, blah, blah. If I have to listen to you talk about how much you’re really falling for that (y/n) girl, I’m leaving you here to run home.”

Shaking his head, Tao starting walking away towards his car. Had that been here when you arrived? Surely not. You would have honed in on it right away. “Like I would ever let you drive my car.”

“I bet you’d let (y/n) drive it,” Sehun yelled at Tao’s back. You didn’t hear the reply, but whatever it was, it made Sehun scrunch his face in a mocking fashion. Tao started the car and roared the engine, even inching the car back like he was really going to leave his friend there. Sehun jumped into the passenger’s seat and the two of them zoomed off down the street.

The whole way back to your seat, you were grinning. Each step was light and airy. You would have probably been skipping if you had any room. The words you’d overheard weren’t too different from the ones Tao had already said to you, but hearing them in that context – unfiltered and honest – was giving them a whole new meaning. You could hardly believe that he really felt that strongly, so much that he was changing, even to the point of his friends noticing. Normally, you would have taken that exchange with a grain of salt, but you couldn’t. You were in too deep. Maybe it was just the alcohol making you giddy.

“Was it a fun trip to the bathroom?” Wyatt asked with a raised eyebrow when you reached the table again.

You blinked. “What?”

“You look like you just met your favorite boy band.”

Honestly, you weren’t even sure if that could top what just happened.

You shrugged. “I think the alcohol is getting me. I should probably stick with water for the rest of the night.” Looking towards the bar, you took your chance and headed for the straight path that was open to you. You weren’t lying about needing to stick with water from now on, but you needed to get your face under control. But how could you when Huang Zitao couldn’t even enjoy a night out because of you?

**

On Monday morning, you were still up on cloud nine. Somehow, not even the droll of the weekend spent on the couch doing absolutely nothing (besides the occasional spout of homework) could bring your mood down. While you could now keep the beaming of your smile at a normal level, the swelling inside your chest couldn’t be beat down.

While you were walking innocently through the courtyard, a pair of arms snatched you up, lifting you so your feet were no longer touching the ground. A squeal escaped from your throat.

Tao’s laugh that you almost had memorized now echoed behind you. The initial fear you had was replaced with delight. Finally.

Putting you down, he let go of you and stepped back. You turned around, feigning irritation. “Well, someone’s in a good mood today.”

Tao was practically glowing. And you didn’t mean his naturally sun-kissed skin. was particularly attractive today. There was something different about his whole aura, but you wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what could have changed over the course of a few days. He seemed… taller? No. That wasn’t a good way to describe it. Lighter, maybe?

Oh, well. Whatever it was, you were glad for it.

Tao eliminated the space between you in just one step. A predatory look was present in his eyes, but you weren’t wary or scared of it. With his hands on your hips, he held you in place. He leaned down until your faces were just centimeters apart. You could feel your eyelids already starting to close in anticipation.

But the kiss that you were really wanting to experience never came.

“Can’t I just be happy to see you?” When he pulled back you sucked in your lips to keep them from pouting.

Damn it. You like him too much. You got sucked in just like you told yourself not to, just like you swore you wouldn’t. But your cares were all gone. Because you like the warmth from his hands as they rested on your sides. You liked how safe you felt with him, how easy everything became when you were around him. There was a mystery behind this strange connection you had with him and you wanted to explore every avenue to solve it.

You nodded, no longer able to hold back the smile that was begging to be released. “Okay, I’ll take that.”

Tao frowned, his eyebrows pulling together so tightly they created a deep line right between them. It was cute, but the intensity in his stare was a little troubling.

“What?” you asked cautiously.

Tao laughed for just a split second. “You haven’t once pushed me away or slapped me or told me that I was invading your space.” He playfully put his hand to your forehead. “Are you okay?”

You scrunched up your face, grabbing his hand and pushing it away, but not really letting go. In each place where his skin met yours, there were sparks of electricity dancing off the surface, warming and addicting. Now what was causing that?

“I’m perfectly fine,” you insisted. “I just… I missed you.” Crap. Did you actually say that out loud? Now you were in for it.

“You did?” Tao questioned softly. You nodded. “Does this mean I can finally take you out on a date? A real date? No more forced tutoring sessions.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” you sighed. You’d kind of miss those tutoring sessions. It was several hours of uninterrupted conversation with him. Whether you knew it at the time or not, you liked having this boy all to yourself.

Elated at your agreement, Tao slipped his fingers in between yours and started walking with you. Unfortunately…

“Um, Tao?”

He stopped turning to look at you. “Yeah?”

“My class is in the other direction.” You pointed towards the business college where your first period was going to start in fifteen minutes.

Tao huffed, but let go of your hand. “Okay. I’ll come find you later then. I’ll take you to dinner tonight. Some place nice.”

You licked your lips in an attempt to calm down the giggly grin you were sporting. “Okay. My last class gets out at four-thirty.”

“Good. See you then.” It was a little bit of a let down that all he did was wave, but you kept your mouth shut, waving back before turning around and heading off.

You only made it a few steps, however, before Tao pounced on you from behind. He encased his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Have a good time in class,” he whispered in your ear. Then he pressed his lips against your cheek before letting you go.

“You,” you turned around, but he was already gone, “...too.” Blowing your lips, you frowned. How did he disappear so quickly?

With tentative fingers, you lifted your hand to your cheek. He surprised you with that sneak attack, but it just you even gigglier. Heading back in the direction of your class, again, you only made it a few steps before you stopped. But this time, it wasn’t Tao that halted your steps.

It was Wyatt.

He was standing about twenty feet away. The look on his face said exactly what you feared: he’d seen everything.

Putting your head down, you hurried to class, knowing that lecture hall was now your safe haven.

All throughout the hour and a half, you fidgeted, worried if Wyatt immediately ran off to tell Kendall before you got a chance to explain. What could you even say?

Gosh, you just hoped he didn’t hate you.

No. He probably just thought you were an idiot.

You were only marginally surprised that Wyatt was leaning on the wall across from where you came out of the classroom once you were dismissed. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hall. You continued to follow Wyatt, knowing exactly where he was going. There was a small coffee shop on campus in the English hall that rarely had anyone in it since most preferred the more high end coffee offered in the student union.

“So,” Wyatt clicked his tongue as the two of you sat down at one of the tiny, sticky tables of the shop, “care to explain?”

You cringed. “It’s kind of hard to….” Wyatt gave you a look, making you sigh. “Okay, look. I don’t know how to explain it, not entirely. One day, he started coming in for tutoring sessions. And… things evolved from there.”

“You do realize that you’re just another conquest for him, right?” Genuine concern was evident in his tone, but classic snarky Wyatt was still coming through.

“It’s not like that,” you insisted. “I know you just think of him as this player, but I’ve seen sides of him that you haven’t.” Memories of Tao with Daeyoung and what he’d said outside of the bar on Friday night made you smile softly. Wyatt would be surprised to know that the playboy came over to your home and took care of you while you were sick.

“(y/n), we’ve all seen his backside.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Wyatt.”

“I am, too.” He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “When I said give guys a chance, I didn’t mean start dating Tao.”

“Technically, I’m not dating him. He hasn’t even taken me out on a date.” Yet. But you didn’t want to know Wyatt’s reaction if you mentioned your plans for tonight.

“Well, it definitely looked like you are.”

You sat in silence for a little while, unsure of where to go from there. Yeah, it probably did look pretty affectionate from the outside, you and Tao. You hadn’t meant to be like that. It just came naturally to you when you were with him.

“Are you actually wanting to go through with this?” Wyatt asked, completely serious for once.

Slowly, you nodded. “He’s not who you think he is. There’s so much to him behind the rumors. And I want to see more. I want to see where this goes.”

“Okay.” Wyatt huffed, leaning forward onto the table. “I won’t tell Kendall. As long as you’re sure. She will eventually find out, though.”

“I know.” You wanted to put that off for as long as possible. When you first started letting Tao get close, you were determined to make him run. You never really thought about getting revenge for Kendall, that would have been childish and useless. He wasn’t John Tucker. But Kendall was still your best friend. Would this hurt her? Would she consider things from your point of view? You didn’t know, but you hoped in the far distant future, she would be okay.

Wyatt gave you a very sympathetic look. “It’s going to be hell when she does.”

Whimpering, you laid your head down on the table. Looks like you were finally knocked down a few clouds.

[sunfloweradore]

drafts!!

okay SO i’m on break and have a shit ton of free time and i actually want to write (shocker right omg) i have many drafts and i’d just like to know which one you’d be most interested in me posting first (drafts are after the blurbs in bold)

vote here or in my inbox  

1. based off of something i read on wattpad but i can’t find it or i would credit it sksskls, harry’s neighbor is flicking the bean EVERY TIME he’s in the shower so he has to hear her moans all the time and he is fed! up!

2. basically y/n wants to move out of her parent’s house and will do anything to find a decent roommate, it turns out to be harry, and he’s secretly an assassin

3. someone requested that i write a story where the reader is latina which has been in my inbox FOREVER so if you requested it i am so sorry for the wait but i’m not latina so it’s a little difficult to write from that perspective but i'm trying!!

4. harry is a photography major and has a crush on y/n (kind of a nerd/popular girl thing but it’s sweet)

5. so nick sets harry up on a blind date with some girl who is bi and sees a girl in the crowd who she can’t stop staring at and it’s y/n, harry actually offers for them all to have a threesome once he sees her

6. finally, i don’t have a draft for it, but someone requested that i have an a/b/o fic where a rival pack hurts y/n

1. Harry was pissed off and turned on constantly. All he wanted was to shower in peace- it’s why he moved out of his friends house and into an apartment. He was now regretting that decision because of how shittily thin the walls were. Every time he wanted to take a shower, he’d do it at night time. It was just how he was, a routine thing. He’d get through his day, eat something, take a shower, and pass out with a dozen fluffy blankets. However, once he’d moved into said apartment, he discovered that he’d have to make some adjustments.

The first time it happened, Harry assumed it was a one time thing (everyone has their needs, so did he) and was enjoying his shower, turning up his music to block out the noise. The next five times, though, made him realize it would keep happening no matter what kind of noise he tried to make in its place. He couldn’t necessarily say that he didn’t enjoy the moans- they were pretty, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a tinge of arousal whenever he heard one, but Jesus, it was so bothersome. If he was trying to take a relaxing bath with lavender bath salts and calming music, muffled moans would burst through the room. If he just needed a quick rinse before going to bed, bam, it sounded like someone was either getting murdered or having the best damn orgasm in the world... every single time. Apparently whoever this woman was, really enjoyed getting herself off, especially when she heard the water running on the other side of the wall (Harry could kind of understand, though, he was a bit of an exhibitionist, himself, but he definitely wouldn’t fuck himself that loudly without even knowing who was on the other side. For all she knew, Harry could be an 80 year old man whose nurse showered him every night).

In a sour moment mixed with cheap drugstore alcohol and pure bravery, Harry decided enough was enough.

2.  The sounds of cars beeping and trailing down the highway echoed through Y/N’s ears on her long, tiring walk home. She lived with her parents in her second year of college, and, while she appreciated their generosity, she needed to find a place closer because the walk back gave her blisters (she probably needed a car, too, but that was a whole different struggle). She didn’t have many friends, either, tending to isolate herself on accident in an attempt to be a good student, so it’s not like she could ask anyone if she could pay rent to live with them or anything of the sort. Her only option was to look for ads or fliers in her neighborhood that sounded good enough for her to live in (she was very desperate at this point and could honestly care less if they had some sketchy building, as long as her room and the rent were decent).

3.  (Hey babe! I don’t know if you’re still doing requests but if you are, could you do one where the reader is latina? Like yovanna ventura (u can check her ig she’s so gorgeous!) and like the fans hates her bc they want him to date someone skinny and white and compares her to kendall or camille, and bc of that she’s having second thoughts on dating him, thank you hun!💖💖)) If Y/N had to describe Harry’s past girlfriends, the first word that came to mind was… plain. And she didn’t mean it in a bad way, honestly, she didn’t, but it felt like there wasn’t hope for anyone who wasn’t... white enough... someone you’d see on the cover of all magazines, someone who didn’t… stand out. At the same time, though, it seemed to have become an expectation that he dated girls like that, who were equally as famous as he was and people within his circle that he was comfortable with. Which is why it was such a shock that he posted a picture with a latina, naturally golden skin glowing with a smile that matched Harry’s completely. No one expected it at all, which made her a bit sad, honestly. Not because she felt bad about being with him, no, not at all, but because they’d all been expecting someone who was the complete opposite of her.

4. “Make sure to delete the ones that are ugly, please!”

“Got it,” he spoke softly, enamored by the effortless way her hair fell onto her collarbones. The lighting was perfect, peering through the tree leaves and shining particular light onto her right eye and enhancing certain parts of her pink sweater. Honestly, this was their first shoot and he already had an inkling that no photos would be deleted.

5.  Harry was on a date with a girl. A girl he thought was insanely hot, despite her odd choice to go to a club in some part of LA he’d never even heard of and he actually quite liked going to them (more so being dragged there by his friends, but it was fun most of the time to see them all get wasted, even if he was somewhat a wallflower). He thought it was going to end in her being all over him once she had a few daiquiris in her, hoping to take her home but he should’ve known that Nick wouldn’t introduce him to anyone he’d actually like, or, more specifically, anyone who’d actually like him. It started off okay, she’d asked him about his upcoming album and he answered politely despite answering those types of questions more times than he could count on both hands. She seemed distracted and he wanted that kind of attention on him, not whatever was behind him. He wanted to kiss her glossy lips and feel her dig her long nails into him, feel them pull at his skin while he fucks into her.

6. Can you do a werewolf!au and a soulmate!au where Harry finds his soulmate aka y/n but then a rival pack hurts y/n? Happy ending

[alpacannot]

Hey, it’s chapter three! And I’m finally getting to the plot! And I didn’t just gloss over the exposition because it exhausts me!

There was an uncomfortable chill in the air as I was lead to the Highers’ chambers. The pre-Higher guiding me was silent, unnecessarily gripping my shoulder, her fingers digging in to my skin. The back of my neck prickled, but I tried to keep my face neutral. I wasn’t sure it was working.

We stopped in front of colossal double doors, and I hesitated. “Well, go in,” she snapped. I pulled on the ice-cold handle, gritting my teeth against the needling pain in my hand. The room was nearly pitch black, despite the dozens of candles scattered around the arc of stone chairs in the center of the room, and I cautiously stepped inside, the weighty door swinging shut behind me. I stumbled as the wind slammed into me, but continued walking towards the shadowy figures.

“Tristan Sieghard. So kind of you to join us.” The middle figure spoke, his voice hanging in the empty space like a thick cloud.

“You summoned me, so I came. How can I be of service?” My voice shook slightly, but I stood tall, my shoulders squared. One of the Highers chuckled softly. I fought back the tears that welled up.

“We’re aware that you’ve never adjusted to working in the Afterlife. After your outburst this morning, we’re certain that a change in your position is necessary.”

They’re going to fire me, I worried. I know PJ said they wanted me to work extended assignments, but that was before I went ballistic in HR. They’re going to off me. I forced myself to think clearly, squashing the offending thoughts deep down. “What did you have in mind?” My hands were shaking at my sides, and I clenched my fists in an attempt to hide my fear. I tried to find a face to look at, but every inch of the Highers was covered in heavy, black fabric, their hoods hiding their expressions in the shadows.

“Recently more In Betweens have been discovered. We’d like you to eliminate them.” My head was spinning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. In Betweens?”

“In Betweens are humans that become aware of the Afterlife in one way or another. As you know, when we discover them, they must be disposed of. However; it’s usually not as simple as walking up to them and extracting their souls. Because they’re aware of the existence of Reapers, you’ll have to go in disguise, impersonating a normal human, much like the extended assignments you completed during your education here. You’ll need to exercise caution, lest they discover who you are an kill you first. You’ll be down on Earth for as long as necessary to complete the assignment, but we advise you not to take too much time. The longer you’re undercover, the more likely you are to slip up.”

I couldn’t process anything he was saying. There’s no way I can go Reap some innocent person just because they were unlucky enough to discover us. I can’t be the one to force them into this life. I won’t. I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t get the words out. I found myself nodding.

“Excellent. We’ll have a Runner drop off your first assignment. I suggest you meet with Chris Kendall and Preston Lancaster—they’ll be your Keepers and will have more information for you.” I tried to leave, but my feet felt like there were concrete blocks strapped to them.

“You’re dismissed, Ms. Sieghard.” I could tell that I’d overstayed my welcome, and I forced my heavy body to move towards the doors. Acting on autopilot, I managed to find my way back to my apartment. Chris and PJ were waiting outside, Blake and Marlow tethered to them.

“How’d everything go?” PJ asked, his eyes boring into mine. I shook my head, trying to keep everything together.

“Not out here. We’ll talk inside.” I unlocked my door, stepping into the familiar warmth of my home. Not stopping, I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, gulping it down. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Everything okay?” PJ took the glass from me, holding my frozen fingers between his blessedly warm hands. Chris perched on a barstool, giving me much-needed space. I was liking him more and more.

“They want me to work extended assignments with In Betweens. They want me to kill innocents.” I could feel myself falling apart.

“I wouldn’t get so caught up on the whole “innocent” part.” Chris laid a Manila folder on the countertop.

“Excuse me? What kind of person is okay with killing someone who did nothing wrong?” I was shouting now, but I didn’t care.

“That’s not what I mean.” Chris’s voice was still calm, despite my outburst. “Read this file. This boy that you’re Reaping, he isn’t innocent—and not because he knows about us. Look, I can’t explain it to you—it’s too much for even me to handle. Just look it over. While it won’t make you feel any safer, it will at least ease your conscious.” He slide the file over to me.

“Peej, have you read this?”

“No.” He briefly narrowed his eyes at Chris before softening again. “Chris has seniority for the duration of this assignment, so all files go through him first.”

“In my defense, I just got it as I was leaving to come here,” Chris said, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence. I opened the folder, my mind already crammed full of information. PJ read over my shoulder. I tried to process everything, but the words swam in front of my eyes. Stephan Burgess; rape; murder; preferance for young adult women; 32 confirmed kills, possibly more unidentified victims.

“No. Absolutely not. There’s no way you’re going down there.” PJ pulled the file away from me.

“PJ, I don’t exactly have a choice. The Highers gave me this assignment—”

“Tris, this is a death sentence!” he interrupted. “If you go down there and try to take his soul, he’s likely to kill you.”

I felt like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. The kitchen was silent. Marlow and Blake jumped up from their beds and curled around my legs. I clung to the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself as my legs threatened to give out underneath my. The tension stretched between the three of us. Chris was the first to speak.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but there isn’t much of a choice here.”

“Look, Chris, I respect you. I know you’ve got way more experience than me, but there’s got to be another way.” PJ wrapped his arms protectively around me. “I’ll talk to Alex, work something out.”

“Chris is right. I don’t have a choice.”

“Tris, you’re like a sister to me. I can’t just stand by and let you get yourself killed.”

“So don’t. If the Highers really are trying to have me killed, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. Keepers have ways of watching what’s happening on Earth, right? If it looks like I’m getting into trouble, you guys can come down and give me a hand. It’s three, maybe four, against one. He can’t really take down all of us at once, can he?” I looked between the two of them, hoping my false hope would convince PJ to let me go.

“The three of us aren’t a formidable force—no offense, but maybe, just maybe, if Alex is there to help bail you out, you’ll survive this,” Chris said.

“Thanks, Chris. Your confidence is baffling.” I tried to be lighthearted about it, but inside I was terrified.

[justkending]

A True Wesson. Part 22.

Chapter Summary: Let’s dig into the lore that is… well…. you.

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader/OFC (Kendall)

Warning: Cussing. Fluff.

Word Count: 4973

A/N: Ya’ll… I dug up as much lore on Mother Nature as possible for this one, and the next one. I wanted to get some actual facts in there (with some of my own details as well). We will see how this goes. Also, the link on Mother Nature is where I got most of my info. For copyright reasons and all.

Series Masterlist

Part 22:

You had been able to get everything printed out from the book to make at least one solid copy. Everyone had a different portion from the book, and you had the original. You were about 30 minutes into reading with everyone situated in comfortable spots in the room.

“Ok, so what I’ve got from the lore so far is that I am descendent of Mother Nature. She was a goddess that originally went by the name Gaia, and was the creator of the earth.” You said looking down at your copy of the notebook.

“Yes, but there is a piece that humans forgot to mention with their theories.” Cas said making everyone look over to him. “Though Gaia helped in creating the earth, she didn’t create it herself. In the beginning, as the bible states, God created the heavens and the earth.” Dean rolled his eyes dramatically on the couch he was sitting on right behind you. “What the bible doesn’t mention is that he created Gaia, or mother nature, to help in the creation of nature and everything that is a part of it.”

“So, she created trees, animals, plants, rivers, and other things that are looked at as nature on the earth?” you asked semi-confused.

“Yes, alongside God. Once most everything was created, he left her in charge to manage it and to make sure things run its course.” Cas said looking back down at his notes.

“Hmmm.” You hummed while you thought it all out.

“Did you get all that from the notes or did you already known that Cas?” Dean asked leaning forward in his spot.

“I knew it.” He replied.

“And you never thought to mention it?” Sam sassed unexpectedly.

“Well, I was reading about it in the notebook, and your parents were slightly off. I thought I would tell you the correction.” He said no-big-deal-like.

“Cas!” Dean shouted upset that his friend hadn’t given them some of the info earlier. Cas looked at him confused. “Whatever, just keep reading and tell us if anything else you forgot to mention pops up.” He said going back to his reading.

__

About 5 minutes later Sam spoke up.

“Ok, so we know about the energy transfer things, but this one says you can also use it to…well-kill, but also to heal.” Sam said using a finger to follow along with what he was reading.

“Ok, got anything to say on that matter Cas?” You asked looking back at the angel.

“I thought we already talked about the healing nature?” Cas said.

“Vaguely.” Rosie spoke up.

“Well, get this…” Sam looked back at the notes trying to find where he left off. “You can actually project your healing powers to people if you are close enough.” He said grinning and looking up.

“Does it elaborate on that at all?” Dean asked.

“For instance, how to do that?” You asked too.

“Well-“ Sam started.

“Most of the notes that your parents have are over powers that they learned you are capable of, not necessarily how to use them.” Cas interrupted. “I will say they did find some pretty impressive intel.”

“Good, so show me everything I can do, but never let me know how to actually do any of them.” You huffed going back to your notebook.

Everyone looked over at you sadly before going back to their chapters. Dean looked down and gave you a sad smile. He could see where all of this information could’ve been frustrating, and felt bad for everything that had led up to this point.

__

About 10 minutes after that, you let out a huff of air before throwing your head back in frustration against the couch you were leaning on. Dean looked down at you with a soft smile.

“What’s with the pouting?” he smirked.

“I don’t know. It’s a lot of information to take in.” you sighed looking at him with your head still resting on the seat of the couch. “And now I’m starting to wonder how much of it is actually accurate. I mean it was just my parents scavenging up what little information they came across over 26 years.”

“Hey.” He put a hand on your head and gently started running his hands through your hair. “We’ll figure it out. There’s got to be some true facts in here. Heck, with how good of hunters your parents were, I doubt they took bad notes.” He said.

You realized that you had eased into his touch and allowed yourself to close your eyes and melt into his hand going through your hair. You snapped your head up quickly thinking about the others in the room. When you scanned the room, everyone was watching you two with a look in their eyes.

You jumped up quickly. “Umm, I’m going to make some tea, and coffee. Does anyone want anything?” you said rushing to the kitchen not waiting more than 2 seconds for anyone’s answer.

Dean was taken aback by you running out so fast after his comment. Did he push his boundaries? He honestly didn’t even realize that he was playing with your hair until you had run out. Or were you embarrassed to like him?

“Wanna explain what that was about?” Sam said with a sly smirk interrupting his brothers thoughts.

“Shut up!” Dean said huffing and going back to his book.

Sam laughed through his nose and so did Rosie as they all went back to their notes in front of them.

Only a few minutes had gone by, but Dean couldn’t stop glancing over to the kitchen where you had disappeared to. He was too distracted thinking about what you were thinking to focus at the task at hand. He finally gave up 2 minutes after you had left.

“I’m going to go check on her.” He said putting the notes down, and walking to the other room.

“You do that.” Sam said under his breath, but Dean heard, and gave him a swift swat to the back of his head as he walked by. “Ow!” Sam said grabbing his head, and shooting a bitch face toward Dean. Rosie just giggled and continued reading.

Dean walked in finding you with your back toward him, and working on making the coffee.

“Hey.” He said catching you off guard.

You quickly turned around in defense.

“Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle ya.” He said putting his hands up in surrender.

You eased once you saw Dean, and let out a sigh before you turned back to the coffee.

“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I feel like I have to constantly be ready to fight with everything going on.” You said putting your head down and leaning on the counter with your arms.

Dean walked over and leaned against the counter with his back and crossed his arms as he looked over at you.

“Understandable. I mean you did get kidnapped twice within a week.”

You laughed a blunt laugh, and turned to him with a hand on your hip.

“Thanks for reminding me.” You said with a smirk.

“Sorry.” He said realizing he probably shouldn’t have said anything. “But hey. You’ve come out on the winning side each time.”

“Not sure if that’s what you want to call it.” You mumbled going to pour a cup of coffee into a mug. “Honestly, I think we haven’t even begun the real fight. We have a while to go.” You handed him the mug which he kindly accepted and took a sip.

“Well Sam and I have been known to win quite a bit of our battles. We’re here to help you win yours. It kinda feels like it’s our battle now too.” He said smiling and taking another sip.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into all this. Hell, you guys came to town on a vamp case and now your tangled in this hell hole.” You said madder at yourself for letting it happen.

You had just poured another cup of coffee and had turned to where you were leaning on the counter like Dean. Coffee in one hand and the other resting on the edge of the counter while you stared off into the room. Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off of you though.

He put his mug down and walked in front of you after your last comment, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he bent to your level.

“Hey, no, no. You did not drag us into this. If we wanted no part of this, we would already be long gone. We stayed cause we care. Our families were close, and… Well, as uncle Bobby once said, ‘Family don’t end in blood.’ So as far as I’m concerned your stuck with us.” He said with a soft but loving smile.

A smile had crept on your face at the physical touch, and the words that the older Winchester was saying to you. You were now holding the mug in both of your hands and gripped it tighter as you became nervous noticing how close you two were again.

“Thanks Dean. You guys really-“ you winced as a sharp pain shot through your head. “Shit!”

“Ken? Kendall what’s happening?” Dean said grabbing your arms tighter noticing you were struggling to stand.

You were about to drop the mug to grab onto your throbbing head, but Dean took it from your hand and put it on the counter, then quickly grabbing you before letting you hit the floor.

“Kendall, talk to me sweetheart!” he said getting worried at you crumpling into yourself.

You could barely hear him through the piercing sounds in your head. You were moaning and grunting, and close to screaming with the amount of pain that was coursing through your body. Your jaw was clenched as you tried to take the pain. You fell to the floor, but never felt contact with the wood panels. Instead, you felt Dean’s chest against your head as he rubbed up and down your back with one hand, and the other brushing through your hair. You could hear him cooing in your ear to breath, and talk to him. In all the madness you focused on his heart beat since your head aligned with it.

The piercing sound faded, but you heard the voice of the man that you hated with all your heart right before it stopped. He was laughing, but also saying something that you were barely able to make out.

Almost in an instant, the pain vanished, and you took in a big gasp of air that you hadn’t realized you had restricted yourself from.

“Kendall! Hey!” Dean’s voice was muffled, but it was becoming more clear as the second passed.

You eased your eyes open, and everything was blurry before you focused on the worried faces in front of you.

Dean had been cradling you in his lap, and at some point Rosie, Cas, and Sam had run in to see what the screaming was about.

“Kendall, are you ok? What happened?” Rosie said putting a hand on your knee.

You paused and just looked between them as you blinked away the blurriness. You were panting trying to even out your breathing, and could still feel Dean’s hand going up and down your back.

“Breath Princess. Take a second.” He whispered quietly in your ear.

Once you were able to control your breathing you relaxed into Dean’s arms more. He took the chance to wrap his arms around you and coddle you by his side even more.

“What did you see Kendall?” Cas said clearly understand what happened more than everyone else.

“It wasn’t what I saw… It was what I heard.” You breathed out.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“It was him. He knows he has the wrong book. He’s going to be coming back for the real one. Soon.” You said closing your eyes and leaning your head onto Dean’s shoulder. “Man that hurt like a mother.” You said going to rub your temple.

“Wait, he’s coming now?” Dean said looking at Cas, and giving you a reassuring squeeze to you.

“I’m not sure.” Cas said never looking away from you.

“I don’t know if it’s now, but I wouldn’t put it past him. We-We need to leave. We need a safe place that isn’t here. This’ll be the first place they look.” You said shifting in Dean’s arms, but he never eased his grip from you.

“Dean… the bunker.” Sam said after a pause.

“Bunker? What are you talking about?” you asked still rubbing your temples.

“It’s an old Men of Letters Bunker. They were hunters without field experience. Pretty much the librarians of everything supernatural.” Dean said resting his chin on your head that was still laying on his shoulder.

“Yeah, they may have some information on you as well. Ways we can help you with your powers and all.” Sam said quietly like he was talking to himself.

“And why have you never thought to mention it before?” You said with your head shooting up angry that they never told you about this place.

“Honestly, I didn’t think about it. I’ve gone through most of their archive, and never saw a mention of Mother Nature.” He answered. “But we can look together and see if we find something we might’ve missed.”

“Yeah, it’s also warded against almost everything big and bad out in there in this world. It’ll keep us hidden from the Demon that’s after these books.” Dean said holding you.

You looked over to him. “Then what are we waiting for. Pack your bags.” You said jumping up. “We need to leave like yesterday.” You started to walk but stumbled still feeling the throbbing from the head ache.

Dean caught you before you could stumble more, and held on to your elbow while the other snaked around your waist.

“Hey, take it easy. Whatever you just went through wasn’t pretty.” He said looking down at you.

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse just-” you said being your stubborn self.

“I got her.” Rosie said going to the other side of you and holding you slightly like Dean was. “You boys go pack and get the car ready. I’m going to help her pack and we’ll meet you back in here before we head out.”

You could tell Dean was hesitant, so you gave him a squeeze of your hand in his. He looked back to you with a somber face.

“Ok, but make it fast. We don’t know how long we have till the dick shows up.” He said looking at Rosie.

“Yes, sir.” Rosie smirked.

She ushered you to your room, and Dean turned back to the other men in the once you were out of sight.

“Well, what are you two waiting for? Get you asses in gear.” He said throwing his hands up before leaving the room to pack his own bag.

Sam and Cas looked at each other. Sam with a sly grin on his face before following after his brother for the road trip to come.

__

“Ok, where is your big duffle?” Rosie asked sitting you on the bed before scavenging your room.

“Under the bed on the other side.” You answered rubbing your temples still and closing your eyes as you did so. “It should already be packed with some clothes. I just need my toiletries and maybe a few more day’s worth of clothes.”

“Got it.” She said getting to work.

After a few minutes of her rummaging through your dresser and closet, you finally felt ok enough to stand and move on your own.

“Ok, I’m fine now. You need to go get your bag packed.” You said taking the clothes out her hand and going to your bag taking her place.

“Uh, Ken.” She said quietly. You turned to her hearing the tone in her voice.

“Rose?”

“I can’t go.” She paused waiting for your reaction, but you just gave her a confused look. “I have work, and well… I need to keep a lookout on the town. What about you and the police department? What are you going to tell them, huh? Sorry, there’s a demon chasing me, I have to run to the next state over? People will ask questions and- it’s too much Kendall! I-I don’t know how-“ she was rambling.

“Rosie!” you said going over and placing your hands on her shoulders to calm her. “Breathe.”

She started taking deep breaths and once she was calmed down a little she looked back up at you. You nodded at her with a small smile.

“Rosie. I know this is a lot, but if you don’t come with me…” you didn’t want to say it, but it needed to be said. “There will not be a town to take care of. He will come after you, and try to use you as leverage. He will hurt you, and anyone he can get his hands on to try and get to me. You and me both know that.”

She nodded, but kept focusing on her breathing.

“We have been through hell and back together multiple times before. We will get through this too, but the only way to do that is if we are quick, thorough, and smart about it. If we stay here a minute longer than we need to, we are all screwed.”

After a brief pause and Rosie processing your talk she finally spoke up.

“You’re right. Sorry I freaked out.” She said rolling her eyes at herself as she went in for a tight embrace. “I thought I was the one that was supposed to be looking out for you.” She laughed.

“Now, since when haven’t we looked out for each other?” you laughed back. “You got my back, I got yours.” You said pulling away to see her face again. “Now, hurry and go pack. We got to go.”

“What are we going to tell everyone? We can’t just up and leave a small town without notice. Everyone will be suspicious and worry.” She said.

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure that out on the road trip north. Just go pack you bags, and think of ideas while you’re at it.”

She nodded uncertainty.

“Go. We’ll be fine.” You smiled. “We always are.” You winked as she smiled back, and walked to her room.

You let out a sigh before going back to packing. You went and grabbed your toothbrush, shower supplies, some towels, hair product, deodorant, and other essentials.

As you were leaving your bathroom to put the last few things in there, you were greeted to Dean in your doorway.

“Hey, you about ready to go?” he asked standing from where he was leaning on his shoulder on the door frame.

“Yep, just a few more things.” You said folding a blanket and placing it on top of everything in your duffel. You grabbed your pillow and threw your bag over your shoulder. “Let’s do this.” You sighed.

“Here, I’ll take that.” He said going for the duffle. You let him take it and held your pillow to your side. “Rosie’s already in the car with Sam. They are taking your company truck I guess.” He said as you both walked to the front door.

“I’m guessing that leaves me with you.” You said with a side smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t sound too disappointed.” Dean chuckled.

“Far from it.” You winked. “Fair warning, I may be reading a majority of the trip. I need to get as much of this information in my head as possible before we throw down with the big bad wolf.”

Dean threw your things into the trunk next to his, and closed the hood.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to read out loud. We have a 7 hour car ride, and I’m curious to see what’s in it.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to check in with Rosie and Sam and we can head out.” You walked over to Rosie telling her to call if anything happened, and also to read up so that they weren’t out of the loop.

You walked over to the impala where Dean was leaning over the top of the car.

“Ready?” he asked patting the hood.

You looked over and put a hand on the car handle.

“As ready as you can be in this lifestyle.” You said with a sad chuckle before getting into the car.

Dean gave a sad smile as you lowered into the car. “Amen to that.”

__

You were about an hour into the ride, and had gotten through about 10-15 pages of info. You had to stop and go ever multiple things because the wording was confusing, or the concept of a fact was confusing itself.

“So let me get this straight.” Dean said looking from the road to you as you stared at the journal in your hands. “You can emit different types of energy beams?”

“Hmm mmm.” You hummed as you read more into it.

“So like being able to shoot lasers out of your hand, or is it more like Captain Marvel kinda a thing?” He asked.

“I’m guessing more like Captain Marvel. From what I remember she could concentrate her energy into one area and project it all into one area. Right? That seems like the closest comparison that I can agree on.” You said looking over at Dean towards the end of your comment.

He just gave you a blank stare with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” you said confused at his look.

“Are you a comic nerd?” he said never changing facial expressions.

“So what if I am!” You shrugged defensively. When he didn’t respond you scoffed. “Ok, you can not judge me! You were the one that brought it up to begin with!” you pointed at him.

He raised his hand on the wheel and grinned.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m more impressed than I am taken back.”

You smiled to yourself before you kept reading.

“By using the energy from others, Gaia was able to absorb it and propel it back on them. If there is no energy from a creature around her, she is able to use the energy and source of light and nature around her.” You read. You looked up at the road as you processed it. “So I can transfer light into energy? Like photosynthesis? Am I a freaking plant now?” you shouted.

You threw your head back in annoyance.

“We are getting nowhere with this stuff. We keep coming across the same facts we already know, with just a few more details here and there.” You huffed looking out the window and laying your head against it.

Dean reached over and grabbed your hand giving it a comforting grasp.

“Hey, we’ll find some more things. I’m sure we just have to look into it more.” He said looking from the road back to you.

You turned your head at the physical connection, and looked down at it. As you looked up you were met with the glowing emerald eyes that were oh so captivating. You gave him a smile that brought a warmth to his heart.

“Actually-“ a voice from the back seat spoke up.

Without hesitation you grabbed the knife that you keep stashed in your boot, and threw your arm in the back. You held the knife to the neck of the man that had appeared in the split second you let your guard down.

You hadn’t noticed it, but Dean had let go of your hand to grip the steering wheel with both hands, and jerked the car to where you were shifting back and forth on the road a few times before he evened it out.

“WHAT THE HELL-“ Dean said as he swerved.

You let out a relieved sigh as you recognized the blue eyes that were now in the backseat.

“Cas! What made you think popping up like this was smart?” you yelled still shocked.

“I overheard your conversation, and wanted to correct something.” He replied calmly.

“We talked about this Cas! Warnings! You sneak up on a hunter, especially one like Kendall, your going to get yourself hurt!” Dean shouted white knuckling the wheel.

“Sorry, I just thought you should know that I read over your parent’s book Kendall.” He said turning to you.

You put the knife in your boot and shifted to where your back was on the car door, and your feet were laid out on the seats.

“What did you find?” you asked not worried about the previous conversation, but more on the knowledge from your parents.

“You are looking to close into the pages you are stuck on. Your parents gathered quite a bit of information on the energy based things, but if you skip about 30 pages up they talk about other things as well.” Cas explained. “The first 20 to 25 pages are history and ancestry based. The next 30 pages are about energy dispersion, and then the rest is a series of other things that you could possess.”

“Why did you say could like that?” you asked squinting your eyes at him as you picked up on the hesitant could in his wording.

“Well after reading some more, I noticed that every Mother Nature in the past has consisted of different powers each. Some have certain powers that others never develop, and other develop completely new powers that ones before never had the capability of.” He said grabbing the journal and scanning through it again. “Here, page 73.” He handed you back the book.

“Mother Nature is always working to achieve and maintain harmony, wholeness and balance within the environment. Mother Nature heals, nurtures and supports all life on this planet, and ultimately all life and health depend on Her. In time, Nature heals all ills.” You read. You looked up at Dean with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged. You continued reading. “Violate Her laws and get out of balance, and you pay the price in suffering and disease.”

“Precisely.” Cas said taking the journal back as he skimmed through it again.

“So she can cause and outbreak of the plague again with a snap of her fingers if she wants?” Dean said looking in his rearview mirror at Cas.

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?” you asked.

“Yes, if it ones of the powers that you end up possessing. But I have not heard of a Mother Nature who has not been able to possess that one. That is one of the top powers that every Mother Nature is in control of.” He stated as he found the page he was looking for, and turned the book back to you. “Then again, you are the first human Mother Nature.”

“Wait, I remember talking about how different creatures can become Mother Nature, but I don’t remember me being the first of my kind.” You said sitting up more.

“Well, most in the past have been Goddesses, Angels even, and other supernatural entities, but never a human. It was believed that they were too weak to live through the transition.”

“Transition?” Dean asked before you could.

“Yes. Remember?” he said looking back and forth between you two.

“On my 26th birthday, all my powers will be in full motion. If my body isn’t strong enough to hold all that energy and power, then…” you paused sighing loudly through your nose. “Welp, someone else is in line for the throne.” You said resting the back of your head on the car window, and closing your eyes.

Cas and Dean looked over at you with sad eyes, then back at each other feeling pity for you.

“Ken-“ Dean started, putting a hand on your leg that was now resting close to his thigh.

“What else you got Cas? Lay it on me.” You said sitting back up and looking at the pages he had turned to.

After a brief pause he looked down at the journal in your hands.

“Well, we know that you have the gift of being fully aware of your surroundings.” He stated.

“Everyone does Cas.” Dean scoffed.

“Not like her.” He said looking at his friend before a back at you. “You can sense things before they happen right Kendall?” you nodded.

“Just a few seconds before.”

“You also can hear and see better than most humans.” He added as you hummed. “Along with seeing others auras.”

“Is that the light that I see that surrounds everyone?” you asked.

“Yes, everyone has a different color depending on their species. Humans are a little different though. Since they’re more emotional than any other beings, theirs fluctuates depending on their mood.” He said pointing at the page.

You looked down on it.

“That explains how I can sense when there are monsters out and about.” You said reading the different colors and what they mean. “I’m still trying to get a grasp on the emotions thing though.”

“It’s mainly just a deeper sense of intuition than anything else.” Cas said.

“You’re saying she should always follow her gut cause it’s never wrong?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” He answered bluntly.

“Cool.” You chuckled.

Dean looked back at you with a small smile.

“I’ve had that intuition gift as long as I remember, but always tend to second guess it.” You turned to the next page.

“That’s the human in you. They tend to second guess everything.” Cas said.

“I believe it.” You laughed. “Ok, let’s keep reading and see what else I got up my sleeve.”

Dean relaxed a little putting a hand on your leg that was now resting on top of his thigh, and rubbing small circles on it with his thumb. You started reading aloud and about another hour in you started dozing off, and not noticing your sleeping eyes falling.

A/N: I have my tags combined right now. Sorry. If you want off of it, or just on one of my fics, let me know!

Part 23

Tags:

@shamelesslydean @sleepless-sin @unabashedsoul97@sandlee44@gripmetight-raisemefromperdition@cabbagewithissues@supersleepygoat@anotherwaywardsister@spnwoman @ravengirl94 @carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed@thosekidswhohuntmonsters@purpleskiesandcherrypies@anise-d-castle6 @adoptdontshoppets @casper57x @tailsoflightning@spookycowz@eve05glee @snffbeebee@angelessquirrel@mirandaaustin93@natura1phenomenon @tftumblin @gh0stgurl@screechingartisancashbailiff @kersumgen

[extemporaneousmusings]

mauraaa I miss castrati AU

Jes!!! I miss it too. Thank you for sending me this message because instead of procrastinating writing my two seminar papers by faffing about on Tumblr all day, I spent it writing this instead. It’s pretty rough and unedited, but please enjoy Harry and Niall’s first interaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff accompanied him to the theater on the first morning of rehearsals. This wasn’t unusual, if Jeff was in town while Harry was working, he’d often come along. They’d dine together in Harry’s dressing room or make a trip out to a café if the afternoon break was long enough. But it rankled Harry today, to see Jeff sitting across from him in the carriage, relaxed against the cushions, his thighs spread slightly, and gazing out the window with a placid smile on his face as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Never mind the fact that they’d had one last argument before they left this morning, Harry spitting out all of the lines he’d saved up, waiting to let loose in person. But Jeff hadn’t faltered, he’d deflected each attack, and then ushered Harry into the carriage. “You’re here,” he’d said, “and it’s time to go. We can talk again after rehearsals are over this afternoon, but I promise that this show is perfect for you.” Huffing, Harry crossed his legs, tangling a restless hand in his hair, wrapping it around itself into a loose, unkempt knot.

Sun streamed in through the windows and Harry glanced out, wrenching his eyes away from Jeff. The flashing sites were so familiar, as was the clarion lilt of people speaking Italian, expressive and elongated, yet lightening fast, filtering into his ears. It undulated as they passed the docks, workmen launching crates at each other along with their cries, refrains of shipments and numbers a triumphant, cacophonous chorus. Peddlers wound their way through their list of wares, voices circling up and around, vibrating with anticipation as people approached them. The successful ones trilled their thanks, while their competitors cursed, their frustration a harsh refrain. Nowhere else in the world sounded like Naples—its cadences and crescendos mimicking the grounded, explosive potential of Vesuvius. London was all bark; harsh, clipped words. Paris was an incessant twitter of tongues, and Berlin, with its gruff, scraping growls, was even worse.

Harry’s heart ached at hearing and understanding the snippets that floated in. Words and emotions immediately registered instead of jangling, loud and unparsed, unable to be translated. Suddenly his loneliness in London was achingly clear, even his ears had been deprived of hearing, understanding what was happening in the world around him. But, was it better to be here, to know and to be known? In Naples his name and story, the dirty, intimate details of his past, could not be erased by the sound of his voice, the sweep of his skirt, or the slow curve of his most seductive smile.

Harry leaned his forehead against the window for a moment, his jaw clattering with the shaky vibrations. The horses swerved a little, to avoid a cart that stopped suddenly in their path, and Harry’s head banged against the thick glass. Cursing, and rubbing his temple, Harry laid it on the plush cushion instead. He knows he’d been petulant in putting off his travel arrangements until the last moment, and now only he is suffering. Jeff has been back for two weeks, and while Harry slept for ages last night in his massive, soft bed, one good night’s rest after a fortnight of tiresome travel was certainly insufficient. His voice was fine, though. He’d warmed up a little this morning before joining Jeff for some pastries and coffee. Rehearsal wasn’t supposed to go past midafternoon, anyway, so he wasn’t concerned about it tiring out.  

Soon they arrived at the theater, and Jeff sprung back to life. He jumped out of the carriage and immediately began talking with the people who were milling about by the door. Harry descended as well, taking the hand that was offered to him, but the wooden steps they had provided were unsteady, and he slipped, losing his balance. Suddenly second pair of hands grasped his other arm. Harry righted himself and stepped fully onto the ground. Jeff had paused, but once he saw Harry standing on firm ground, he resumed his rapid-fire conversation. Harry looked over to see who had kept him from falling, and was met with two bright blue eyes, searing with an intensity that startled him.

“Thank you,” Harry said, stepping further away from the carriage, and brushing his over both of his sleeves.

“It was my pleasure,” the man murmured, his Italian smooth and natural, but lacking the sunny, southern sound of a Neapolitan.

Harry took him in with a glance, serviceable shoes, utilitarian clothes, a pale, pleasing face with a brow that looked like it was made for furrowing. He thought he might be one of the musicians, perhaps a cellist. He could be a possibility, but once Harry decides to forgive Jeff he’ll probably be preoccupied with him for a while, instead of searching for new lovers. But still, it’s worth noting.

“I think I need to go inside now, but thank you again,” Harry said, blinking slowly as he gave the man a final, wandering look of distant appreciation. He walked over to Jeff and they made their way inside. Harry pondered the man’s eyes again as he scraped the mud off his boots, tapping his heel against the bristles a few more times than necessary. Jeff put his hand on the small of Harry’s back as they made their way towards the stage, and Harry felt the weight through his coat, thumb digging in a little as he guided them around a corner. Jeff showed him the dressing room briefly, but they had to go straight to the stage to meet Niall, the maestro who had somehow convinced Jeff to wrench him from his comfortable life in Paris and drag him all the way back across the continent to Naples.

Harry had been so incensed by Jeff’s determination for him to return that he had not exerted effort into finding anything out about Niall. Jeff had given him no details, only that his music was meant for Harry to sing. On his final night in London, Kendall had taken him out to a dinner party. During the cheese course one of the guests mentioned something about Niall, saying that he was apparently very young. He hadn’t said anything else, though, and Harry had gotten distracted by Kendall running her hand up and down his inner thighs. Now that Harry was here, being marched down the corridors with Jeff an insistent presence at his side, he regretted his lack of preparation. Who was Niall going to be? What would he expect from Harry? How young was he actually—not very many young composers were able to attract Jeff’s attention, and with it recruit the most celebrated voice of the decade, if not century.

Harry was starting to spin a bit, in his mind, toying absently with the thick rings on his fingers, when a door swung open in front of him and he stepped out onto the stage, his footsteps suddenly echoing in the space. The room was fully lit, the rows of empty seats stretching out in front of him, around him, above him. Harry inhaled softly, nostrils flaring as he took it in. The guilt, the paintings, the candles flickering in elaborate brass sconces that gleamed and reflected the light like mirrors. It was beautiful. Already he felt the zing in his spine, his shoulders spread a little further, his head lifted a little higher. This stage was everything he’d imagined it would be, when he sat in the audience as a little boy who loved to sing, or as a teenager who lived to sing.

“Niall, it’s good to see you,” he heard Jeff say, and Harry turned, eyes drifting back down to the stage, to the man in front of him. It was the man from earlier, who’d caught him from falling. He smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand, and Harry’s palm enveloped his, fingers wrapping around in a gentle, but firm clasp.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Harry. Jeff has told me so much about you, and I am looking forward to working with you.”

“Hello,” Harry said, mind reeling to recalculate his assessment of Niall from earlier. Harry still couldn’t place his accent, and he wasn’t a cellist, he was the composer who had earned Jeff’s patronage. “You’re Niall? I didn’t realize.”

Niall shuffled back a little, wringing his hands. “Yes I’m, I should’ve introduced myself earlier, I apologize.”

“I see,” Harry said, his head fuzzy and tired, and wondering why was he here after traveling non-stop for two weeks to meet with a maestro who was barely out of puberty. “What do you want me to do? Where’s my music?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I left it down on the harpsichord, I thought you might want to sit down and talk a little bit before beginning rehearsal.”

“No thank you,” Harry sniffed. He could see Jeff rolling his eyes at him, but he didn’t care. He turned his unimpressed stare back to Niall. “I would prefer to just get this over with. I’ll sing, you can make your alterations, and then we can move on with our lives and prepare for this show to open. I have many things to attend to.”

“Preparations, other than rehearsing, you mean?” Niall asked, his eyes slowly beginning to lose their polite sheen.

“Certainly. I have been absent from Naples for quite some time. I have numerous, pressing social obligations now that I’ve returned.”

“I see,” Niall said. “Well in that case I will grab your music and we shall begin.”

Harry nodded curtly as Niall turned and hopped straight down into the pit, instead of descending the stairs. He heard a faint expletive as Niall landed, and then Jeff coughed loudly behind him.

“Harry, really?” he admonished. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

Harry’s irritation increased, stretching taught like a bowstring, and then he snapped. “Just fucking leave, Jeff. You got me here, you win. But go away. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Harry, stop being so unreasonable. I know you’re tired, but you’re behaving like a—”

“Like a what, Jeff?”

Jeff squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. “Like a child,” he said, slowly, eyes opening and instantly apologetic.

“Fuck you,” Harry spat. Jeff winced and took a step back. “Harry I’m sorry.”

“Please go away,” Harry said, voice trembling a little. “I will sing, Jeff. But I don’t want you here.”

Jeff nodded. “The carriage will wait for you, and I’ll see you at home for supper. Is that alright with you?”

“Fine,” Harry said, turning away towards the sound of Niall climbing back out of the pit. He was carrying the score, along with an ornately carved, wooden music stand as well, hefting it up along the ladder with him. He managed to lever it up onto the stage and push it along the floor until it was securely balanced, before he swung himself up and out, wincing a little as he landed. Niall grabbed the music stand and stood, walking over towards the center of the stage and depositing the stand and the music.

“Niall, I’ve some business to attend to this morning, but I will catch up with you tomorrow, alright?” Jeff said, smoothly moving towards the door. Niall spun to look at him, brow furrowed.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, he is.” Harry said behind him, and Niall spun back around, looking a little bit dizzy.

“Will it be just the two of us then?” Harry asked, eyebrow arched condescendingly.

“Yes, just the two of us. The rest of the musicians are set to arrive next week.”

“Well then, let’s begin.”

Niall nodded and turned again, heading back to the pit. He didn’t jump this time but climbed slowly down the ladder to take his seat. The pit was fully open today, and Harry could see the harpsichord at an angle. When Niall sat down, he was entirely visible. He had pushed the cuffs of his sleeves further up, revealing wiry forearms covered in a dusting of fair hair that glinted a little in the candlelight. Niall opened his score and glanced over at Harry, indicating for him to do the same. As Harry unfolded the papers, he saw Niall slip his shoes off, sliding his stockinged feet onto the pedals. Harry sniffed at that, finding it utterly unrefined. What difference would a little bit of leather make in operating the pedals?

“Ready?” Niall asked, voice low and firm. Harry looked at him over the music, eyes narrowing to account for the low light in the pit.

“Yes. You may begin.”

Niall inclined his head in a mocking gesture and did just that, fingers flying over the keys as they passed through the introductory flourishes. His arpeggiation and trills were as standard and utilitarian as his clothes, and Harry rolled his eyes, cocking his hip to wait until he was supposed to come in. He eyed the first few measures of his part, but they were scribbled at the bottom of the page, and he didn’t bother flipping it. Harry couldn’t recall the last time he’d had difficulty sight reading. At the very least he’d land on a melody even better than what had originally been written, so he zoned out, listening to the rise and fall of the music, each chord proceeding as expected, until it was only a few measures away from his entrance. Harry straightened his posture and inhaled, feeling his lungs slowly expand with air until it was in his eyeballs and he paused, teetering on an explosive fullness of breath. And then, just as Niall’s fingers landed on an anticipatory amalgamation of notes, Harry was off, his voice bursting out of his chest.

Harry flipped the page lackadaisically and continued with his melody until suddenly it felt like he was tripping, a rug being wrenched out from under him. His eyes and his throat were out of sync and flopping onto notes that should be bounced across. His tongue felt like a wet fish, and he snapped his mouth shut just as Niall picked his fingers up off the keys.

“Shall we go back to your entrance?” Niall asked, face betraying no acknowledgement of Harry’s flub.”

Harry’s face flamed, and he nodded, refusing to say a word. Niall looked at him and breathed in slightly as Harry did, his fingers precise as they struck right as Harry began to sing. Harry’s eyes were glued to the page this time, scanning ahead as he ran through a series of triplets, looking forward to the run that had thrown him. He pulled it off fine that time, clinical in his approach, but he didn’t want to let his guard down now. They continued like that, Harry aggressively singing the lines, adding angular flourishes and trills in exactly all of the right spots. Niall’s playing was firm and stalwart, but there was a coiled strength to it, as though he were restraining himself from pushing the tempo or leaning too far into the dissonant chords.

Niall asked them to stop two times, taking brief notes on his copy while Harry waited, eyeing his fingernails. Each time they’d begin again, perfectly on sync, barely batting an eyelid. When they were halfway through the pages Niall had given him, Harry reached his first aria. He had a few bars of rest before it began, and as Niall plowed through them Harry inhaled, ready to finally find out what sort of person Niall was.

Harry pushed immediately, taking the run that Niall had sketched out and doubling it, going up an additional octave and winding his way down luxuriously, dallying around with some false cadences before descending the rest of the way. Next, he slowed down, taking the octave jumps that Niall had set up for him with an effortless glide. Niall was keeping up though, barely struggling with Harry’s acrobatics, so he continued, and pushed harder. Note for note, Niall matched him, never once getting out from under him, but running with him, letting him spin out before dragging him back in. The chased each other around and around, until Harry was barely even looking at the page, the notes flying out of his mouth without preparation or pre-consideration. He hit the climax with everything, voice ringing out through the hall as he held the note for what seemed like an eternity, and then a few heartbeats longer, his vibrato fully and shimmering until he trailed off into silence. When the note ended, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and his breath bounced back into his lungs with a massive inhalation. Niall did not continue playing. Instead the vibrations of Harry’s last note lingered in the air, echoing across the empty room. Harry slowly opened his eyes, and Niall was staring at him, his jaw tensed, eyes calculating.

“Alright,” Niall said eventually, turning back to his music.

“Let’s pick it up right after the aria,” Harry said. Niall just nodded and began to play.

[thunderoad]

9. things you said when i was crying, narry

a whopping 4.8k of ever-so-slightly future fic where the boys assemble to meet liam’s baby, and harry grapples with how things change

Harry slidesinto the backseat, buckles his seat belt, and pops his earbuds in to listen tothe mix Jeff (Bhasker, not Azoff) emailed him this morning. He waves to hisdriver and offers him a smile, as well as an apologetic little gesture to theglinting pink phone in his hand. He nods at him in the rearview mirror, smilesback, and reverses them out of the pilates studio parking lot.

Sweat sticksHarry’s shirt to the small of his back and his underarms and the inner curve ofhis knees, his back positively singing in relief. He’d been feeling sore andrundown, and he couldn’t tell whether his back aches from the strain of a goodworkout or whether he’s been sleeping curled up in a tight little ball again,his joints locked up by the end of the night. Maybe he’s coming down with acold. He jots down a little note in his notes app to pick up some more cold medicineand herbal tea.

His notes areabsolutely bursting with things he has to do. Really he’d be better off askinghis personal assistant, Eloise, to pick up the tea for him, but last time hesaw her, she was juggling three phones and the fattest appointment book he’sever seen. The circles under her eyes were so dark they didn’t even look real;Harry’d been halfway to asking if they weren’t, if there was a new trend afootin the fashion world?

He thinks aboutmaking a note to ask Kendall and doesn’t even bother, his thumb going still onhis phone screen. Belatedly, he remembers to listen to the latest cut of hisnext single buzzing gently through his Bluetooth headphones. It soundsindistinguishable from the latest mix. Harry emails Jeff (Bhasker, not Azoff), Top, mate. Thanks as always. Harry, andleaves it at that.

He’d hadfantasies, one of those times the mattress fell off the wall during recordingin some hotel in the middle of a never-ending tour, of really taking his timeon a record someday. Maybe even his own record. Letting each song reallypermeate his DNA, or come bubbling out of it, something essential of himmaterialized and set to a good funky bass beat.

One Directionwas his baby and he was its but sometimes Harry thinks they grew up too closelytogether to properlyunderstand each other. This album was supposed to be him, and it is. Atleast, it’s as much of him as he thinks he knows. It sounds like music someonewith his long hair and sketchy accumulation of tattoos and penchant for floraltops would make. That’s who he is, right?

“Where are weoff to?” Harry asks his driver. He pockets his earbuds, mentally cosigning themto death even as he does it. They’re itty bitty wireless things – how’s hemeant not to lose them? He must be on his tenth pair already.

August, hisdriver, answers, “Ehm, something in the Hills. Eloise had me pick up a baby giftfrom the office while you were at the gym. That sound familiar?”

“No,” Harryanswers. He stares out the window. He’s quite good in social situations; he’spretty sure he can fumble his way through those moments of free-fall wheresomeone opens the front door and he can’t remember them for the life of him. Hejust wishes he hadn’t gone and gotten all sweaty first, that’s a bit odd, isn’tit –

Oh. Ah, Harrythinks.

There’s not manypeople Harry wouldn’t mind going to see just after a workout, really. There’snot many people who wouldn’t mind, either, though if memory serves, they alwayspretend to.

Liam’s baby.Liam’s baby. Liam’s real life,squalling, very alive baby. Harry clears his throat. “What did I get her? Thebaby, I mean?”

“A whole basketof stuff, boss. Some very cute onesies in there,” August adds knowledgeably.“My baby girl’s shown me all of the stuff she’s gotten for the new baby, see,so I’d know.”

Harry tries tounstick his throat. “Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Thanks,” Augustbeams into the rearview mirror.

Harry taps outreplies to another half-dozen emails on his phone on the drive to Liam’s house.He loads the calendar app just to see LIAM PAYNE – BRING BABY GIFT on his phonescreen in Eloise’s short, succinct phrasing. His new appointments sync up andHarry watches every other day of the month turn red and green and blue. Red forimportant stuff, green for social networking events, blue for things that fallin between. If he’s being honest with himself, his whole calendar could beblue.

It’s not bad.Just, sometimes he thinks of the life he dreamt for himself when boot camp wasgoing off and he wasn’t getting cut week after week, and he wonders whathappened. They won, Harry supposes. In all the ways that matter.

There’s afamiliar Range Rover sat in the driveway when August pulls up to the curb. Itsat in his driveway often throughout MITAM writing and recording; Harry easily recognizesNiall’s Rover. It’s amazing how fast, and how thoroughly, relief unravels theball of tension in Harry’s chest. If Niall’s there, Harry will be fine. He’snot entirely sure where the supreme confidence comes from but it feels like alaw of the universe, and he’s felt a little too much like his own drowningcharacter not to cling to a buoy when he washes up against one.

Hm. Maybe that’dmake a nice song. He makes a note to make a note of it, thanks August for theride, and plucks the baby gift out of the boot before making his way up thedriveway.

“Oy!” Harryturns as August spins away. Technically he’s on retainer for Harry, but helikes to play snooker or feed the pigeons in the park while Harry’s off aboutbusiness.

Niall’s sat inthe driver’s seat of his Rover, his sunnies pushed up into his hairline and abit of floss wound around his fingers. “Hey, Haz.”

“Don’t tell meyou’re already leaving?” Harry asks. “I’m not that late.”

“No, you wanker,I was waiting for you. You know how Liam can be all,” he wiggles in his seatlike a bit of jello in an earthquake.

A long,frightening moment second passes where Harry truly does not get it, and then hedoes, and his shoulders sag in relief. “I do,” he admits.

“Hop in if yalike,” Niall says, so Harry clambers into his passenger seat. Niall’s wearingan unwrinkled pair of jeans, boots, and a collared shirt. Of course he is. “I’malmost done here. Is that what you got the baby? Prat. You could’ve paid a termof her tuition with all that stuff.”

Defensively,Harry says, “Well, I’ll pay that too.” Niall laughs and shakes his head andpushes his face toward the mirror in his visor to see what he’s flossing at,and Harry lapses into silence. He forgot what it was like to see Niall. Theearth beneath his feet feels a little unsteady, not unfamiliar, justhalf-forgotten.

“If I ever havekids,” Niall starts, then, “when I have kids, you’re not to spend more than thecost of a lolly on ‘em. Mark my words, now, Styles.” He shoots Harry a lookthat’s only meant to seem serious; Harry can see the way the corners of hislips are twitching.

“You’ll beraising a bunch of monks, then,” Harry remarks.

“Aye, a bunch oflittle Irish monks running around a farm in the highlands.”

“That’s howyou’re gonna do it?” Harry asks. Then, “You’ve thought of it?”

Niall folds upthe visor, tucks the spent bit of floss away in an empty Starbucks cup, andfolds his sunnies off the top of his head. “‘Course,” Niall answers. Harryreckons that’s fair.

“Ready?” Niallasks. He puts his hand on the door. Harry thinks of saying no, and askingplease can they just stay in this inconsequential little moment for a littlelonger, but he can’t. He says yes. Niall leads their way up the walk andpresses the buzzer. Harry spots the gift in his hands and he’s just whining,“Niall, how many terms of uni could that pay,”when the door swings open, and Liam’s standing there, crinkly-eyed and smiling.

He scoops themboth into a hug and they stand there on the stoop for a moment, three lads tiedtogether by Liam’s ropey arms, the bony nub of Niall’s elbow digging intoHarry’s side, Harry’s arm trapped against Liam’s ribs. Harry closes his eyes.

“You stink,”Liam says, pulling back. He wrinkles his nose.

“Pilates,” Harrysays by way of explanation.

Niall and Liamboth smile and roll their eyes. It annoys Harry, briefly, like they’reexasperated and annoyed with him and why should they be? He’s here, isn’t he?And then it passes, and he trips over the doorway following them in.

Liam’s andCheryl’s house looks like a catalogue for wealthy living despite the new babyliving in it. Harry and Niall are seated in a living room with overstuffed pinkcouches and a coffee table laden with cuts of cheese and sugared almonds andpear slices and a still-steaming pot of tea.

“The girls willbe along in a bit, I think Cheryl’s feeding the baby,” Liam says. “What’s on,lads?”

They catch up.Liam dropped his first single, something dancey and a little raunchy, the dayhis baby was born, and he’s almost done with the rest of his album. Niall’sdown two singles and already picking up promo gigs here and there for his albumlaunch. He has a list of radio DJs he promised to come back to when he wasdoing “This Town” promo and cities he wants to visit on tour just so he canhang out with his friends. Harry’s stomach starts feeling very hollow.

Liam’s andNiall’s chat drifts into unfamiliar territory, something about tennis and amatch they both watched with bated breath and a bet Niall lost grudgingly.Harry sifts through his memories of their email thread, and he has norecollection of this. They’ve – they’ve been keeping in touch, he realizes.More than he has. He’d thought they were all so busy, and the email chain wasso dormant, he wasn’t the only one who’d lost touch, but – maybe that’s not thecase.

It hits himthen, like a melody callback from the beginning of a record to the end, howstrange everything is. Harry feels distanced from his body and unmoored fromhis life, like he can see it from a distance, and he doesn’t know what to makeof it. Like he’s an alien dropped into the memory of an old life. Maybe noteven his old life. It’s so strange to see the lads again, and meet one of theirchildren, in his sweaty gym clotheswith an overstuffed gift basket at his feet, and his back sore and aching.Harry feels like he’s been doused in a wave of vertigo.

So he pipes upthat his first single’s doing well, too, that Rolling Stone called it “an impressiveshot across the bows for one of the year’s predicted highest-selling records.”Really, they said that.

It pulls Liamand Niall up short, a bit. “We know, lad,” Liam says quellingly.

“You wouldn’t believehow hard it is to find time to meditate, let alone catch a math on telly,”Harry says. Let alone chat shit with his old bandmates, or his mum, or anyone.

Liam and Niallexchange a look. Finally, Liam says, “It’s a good song. Reckon we’re a goodbunch of musicians, lads. Who’d have thought it?” and laughs. “Mind, I knowyou’re not here to see me – let me check on the girls.” And he bustles off toround up his lady and his baby.

The room goespainfully quiet before Niall comments, “Feel like I’m meeting the queen.” Hestacks a cracker with a load of cheese and fruit and stuffs it into his mouthin one giant bite. Harry envies him that he can eat whatever he want withoutever showing it, and he wants to pat his knee soothingly, but he stops himself.He’s not sure why.

“Eat a biscuit,”says Niall. “You look a bit off, mate.”

“I’m fine,”Harry says. Niall fidgets with his scraggly fingernails.

Harry realizesNiall won’t look at him. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing, mate.Just, like,” he laughs. “I dunno, chill out a bit. The man’s just had his firstbaby. Let him have the moment, won’t you?”

Harry bridles,stung, but before he can say anything else Liam’s swooping back in with Cheryl intow, and the tiniest baby Harry’s ever seen cradled in the crook of his arms.“My love,” he coos to the baby, “these are your uncles, Harry and Niall.”

Liam passes thebaby very, very carefully to Niall, who wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans andhandles her with as much care as he would a really fancy vintage guitar.Probably more, even. Harry sits down slowly opposite him, his breath all caughtin his chest, terrible for singing with.

“Holy shit,”Niall breathes.

“Language,”Cheryl teases, her voice riding on a laugh. “Isn’t she beautiful?” The doorbellgoes, and Liam breaks in, “I’ll get it,” his socks rasping on the woodenfloorboards.

“She looks likeLiam,” Niall says. “That nose – the eyes.” He very carefully touches the tip ofher nose with his fingertip and the baby wrinkles her face and lets out a verysoft sigh.

Harry can’treally hear or speak past the deafening rush of blood in his head. His heart isbeating like a trampoline, yo-yoing around his chest cavity like he’s done toomany shots of espresso in quick succession. His long litany of problems fallsaway and all he can think is, amazing.

He reaches ahand out – carefully – and very lightly touches the baby’s soft cheek. She’s sofresh, and new, and perfect. Harry glances up to Niall out of force of habit,like, Are you getting this, too? Hefinds Niall’s eyes red-rimmed and watery, though Niall clears his throat andtries to speak around it. “Beautiful, she is,” he agrees. The urge strikesHarry to reach out and stroke Niall’s cheek, too, almost like he’s just donewith the baby. It’s such an awfully vulnerable thing to do, he thinks, and knowshe’s not allowed.

“I’m not toolate, am I?” Louis’s loud voice reaches them before he even enters the room.“She’s not walking and talking yet, is she?”

“No,” Liamanswers, amused. The familiar sound of their banter quickly moves to fill allthe empty spaces in the room, the bond between them like brothers, and Harrysits back and runs the back of his hand over his itchy eyes.

“Alri’?” Niallwhispers.

Harry shrugs andnods, his throat too clogged to speak. He still wants touch Niall’s face. Hewants a lot of things, he realizes. Not to feel like he’s drowning – like he’snot too busy keeping his head above water that he misses the important things –that he has time to breathe, and enjoy breathing – to make something thisbeautiful. For a moment, it feels like maybe he could.

“Want to holdher?” Niall asks. Harry nods, and they transfer the baby from Niall’s arms toHarry’s. She’s so soft and warm, and light – she can’t weigh more than tenpounds. That’s less than a watermelon. And there’s a whole person to grow outof this tiny little baby. “Wow,” Harry just says.

Freddie toddlesinto Harry’s legs for a closer look. He and the itty baby regard each otherfrankly. Harry looks up.

Niall’sgrinning. “Well done, you two,” he tells Cheryl and Liam, who look every bitthe proud parents.

Louis leans infor a better look. “Good news,” he says. “She’s got Liam’s eyebrows.”

“What’s thatsupposed to mean?” Liam laughs, and Louis pretends that he wasn’t poking fun,and Liam tries to dig his fingers into Louis’s sides.

Harry doesn’twant to leave.

He only blockedthree hours for this, though. Or Eloise did. It’s the same thing, really.Louis’s already gone and Liam and Cheryl go to put the baby down for a nap, soit’s only Niall that accompanies Harry to the door, where August is back fromhis latest adventure, the car idling on the curb.

“Come with me,”Harry blurts, only somewhat desperately. “Please.”

“Why?” Niallasks.

Harry chews onhis bottom lip. “Because,” he starts, stops. Now that he’s got him back, he can’tbear the thought of letting him go again. “I miss you,” he says.

“I’ve gotrecording time booked,” Niall says. “I can’t just run off.”

Harry wants sobad to stamp his foot like a toddler. “But you have time to watch tennis withLiam?”

Niall scowls.“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry says nothing. “I tried to stay in touchwith you, too, Harry,” Niall says. He steps away from the echoing foyer anddown the walk a little, so Harry follows after. A cool breeze cuts straightthrough his gym shorts and leggings and he shivers, though it’s summer inCalifornia, warm and balmy.

“I was making amovie,” Harry snaps. He sounds petulant to his own ears. Hurt. “Those are longdays, Niall, eighteen-hour days, and on the whole other side of the world. Notto mention you keep pulling your disappearing act, you’re not so easy to stayin touch with –”

Niall holds hishand up. “Disappearing from most people,” he says. “Not everyone.”

But Harry’s notreally listening. “And then going into the studio and making an album. You’ve no idea what it’s like, Niall, all thesepeople watching you, and the expectations, and it feels like half of them wantyou to fail just so they can watch you mess everything up, and the other halfthink you’re so great, and –”

Harry’s own what if I’m not draws him up short.

“You’re right,”Niall says acidly. “I have no idea what that’s like. Can’t even relate.”

“Don’t get madat me!” Harry says. His eyes start stinging and aching again. He wipes,roughly, at his face. “Don’t get angry with me, please. I’m just – you’ve doneall these songs that sound like your baby, Niall, it’s – it’s not the same.”

Some of the familiarcolor drops out of Niall’s face, and the anger is replaced with somethingsympathetic, and Harry blurts, “I don’t – why are we arguing?” He laughs. Itsounds a little wet. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not.Hey,” he touches Harry’s arm. “We’re not. Okay?”

“I have to go,”Harry says miserably. “I have to go to a party tonight.”

Niall gives Harryhalf a smile. “Well,” he says, “have fun.”

“Come with me,”Harry repeats. He hopes it sounds less petulant this time. Less desperate. Hedoesn’t feel any less desperate.

“Stay in touch,Styles,” is all Niall says. He bids Harry farewell with a kiss to his cheek,and Harry goes because he’s been sent, and climbs into the backseat of August’scar.

“Ready?” Augustasks, after a pause. Harry keeps his eyes trained on Niall in the yard, hisarms crossed loosely over his chest, his face unreadable. And he misses him.

“Yeah,” Harrysays hoarsely. The car trundles him away.

***

“I don’t know,”Nick draws the words out. “Eileen’s still pretty chaffed you didn’t show up forher Sunday roast, Harold dearest.”

Harry twirls atoo-short strand of hair around his finger and worries over his bottom lip. Heknows Nick doesn’t really mean Eileen’s bothered. He means he is. “Nick,” hestarts uncertainly. Harry’s been a lousy friend to him, he knows. But here heis, always asking for forgiveness, for more kindness, for Nick to give himsomething he can’t give himself.

Nick heaves aheavy sigh. “Well,” he says. “I suppose perhaps I could fit you into my schedule.But I expect chocolates. And maybe flowers. Perhaps a cookie bouquet.”

“Done,” Harrybreathes, relieved. “I’ve already ordered them, several, enough for the wholestation.”

“You’re going togive me diabetes,” Nick whines. Harry thinks he can hear a smile in his voice.

A week later,Harry makes good on his promise of a cookie bouquet. He presses his finger tothe buzzer to be let up to Nick’s flat, shifting his weight from foot to foot.He brought along an armload of YSL’s samples for Nick to pick through, too,figuring that would earn him a few extra Brownie points for the next time hedrops the ball. Harry sighs. Maybe someday he’ll stop planning ahead for hisnext misstep.

“Harold,” Grimmysweeps the door open. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Harry steps overthe threshold and takes a deep breath. “I love it here,” he says, same as he’ddone when he was sixteen and had hardly been to anyone’s flat before, let alone a famous radio DJ. The whole placesmells like pomegranate and vanilla candles, and Nick’s got beautiful art hungup on every wall. Some of it’s his, some others’; it’s been so long, Harry can’tquite tell them apart anymore.

“I’d love tocatch up and all,” Nick says, eyeballing him. “But we can do that after you letme hear this album. Gimme,” he says, and makes grabby hands at Harry. Harrylaughs and ducks away and then steps back in so Nick can soothingly run hisbig, comforting hands over Harry’s chest and stomach. They never quite madegood on the way they were in love when they were younger, so it lingersimprobably like this. Harry thinks he’ll always carry a candle for Nick. It’snot the worst thing.

Nick’s made up alittle space for them to listen in, dear that he is. He’s unearthed a CD playerand set it up in front of a couple of easy chairs with a nice soft rug in frontHarry can stretch out on like a cat. Grimmy knows him so well.

Harry foldshimself to the floor and folds his hands behind his head, staring up at Nick’sceiling as an hour passes between them, and Harry’s first album plays out intoinfinity. The notes feel like radio signals he’s broadcasting to space, like anotherVoyager mission, the whole and enormity of being human bundled up and mailed outto the universe as a brief introduction.

He can see Nick fromthe corner of his eye. Nick sits with his feet tucked up next to him, his legslong and hairy. He doesn’t say very much. He doesn’t really move very much,either. At one point he leans down and swats at Harry’s shoulder, his facetight and open, like a satellite on another planet picking up Harry’s message.

“So?” Harryfinally asks.

“It’s very good,”Nick says reassuringly. “I’m looking forward to playing it all the livelongday, H.”

Harry takes hisphone out in the car on the way back to his house, the cursor blinkinginnocently at the end of the line. Ithink it’s finished. I’m ready. Jeff (Azoff, not Bhasker) would beoverjoyed, but Harry can’t bring himself to send it. He says, “August, if youhad a friend, a very old, very good friend, and you’ve fallen out of touch,what would you –”

“Call,” Augustsays immediately. He glances up into the rearview mirror. “I’d call him, boss.”

“Never said itwas a him,” Harry mutters, and dials Niall anyway.

He picks up onthe second ring. “Hullo?”

“Can I comeover?” Harry asks. “Are you in London?”

“I – who isthis? What?”

“Niall,” Harrysays patiently. “It’s me. Are you home? Can I come over?”

“I don’t haveany milk,” Niall says. He sounds dead sleepy. “For tea.”

“Shall I picksome up?”

There’s quiet,then the ruffled sound of covers moving, on Niall’s end. “Okay,” he says. “Mightas well be a love and pick up some biscuits, too.”

“I will,” Harryvows.

Niall makes asoft sound of agreement and rings off. Harry gets one of each flavor ofbiscuits from the shop by Niall’s house, and then he and August pull up to thegate. Harry climbs into the front seat and leans over August’s lap to hit thebell and shout at the buzzer, “It’s a load of biscuits and Harry!”

“Christ, I know,”Niall mumbles. “Give poor August some space, mate.”

Harry pulls backinto his own seat. He isn’t nervous until August stops the car and it’s timefor Harry to climb out, and then he unbuckles his seat belt with shaking handsand watches his feet to mind the stairs.

Niall’s waitingin the open doorway. He’s wearing a soft gray hoodie and a pair of blackjoggers. His socks are patterned with stars today. His face is still a littlemuted and soft with sleep, and Harry has that urge again, stronger than he’sever known it, to touch Niall’s face. Stroke his cheek, press his forehead toNiall’s, trace the contours of his tired smile with his lips. None of that isnew. It just feels more pressing than before. It’s finally dawned on Harry thathe may not have forever.

Harry couldapologize for waking him up, and for snapping at him at Liam’s, and for a wholehost of other things, but if he starts apologizing now he’ll never stop. So hejust says, “Can I come in and play you my album?”

And Niall says, “No.”

Harry draws upshort. “What?”

“Let me have it,”Niall holds out his hand. “I’ll listen to it and tell you what I think.”

“I…what?” Niall’snever told Harry no before. It’s one of those things, like gravity or motion,that Harry’s hung his whole world on.

Niall lets out alittle breath. “It’s late,” he answers. “And I’ve got interviews all daytomorrow – I’ve got to sleep, Haz, love.”

“But I…” Heshakes his head.

“I love you,”Niall reminds Harry gently. “But I’ve got my own life, too.”

Harry sagsagainst the doorway. “I know.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. I know.”

The truth of ithits him like an arrow to the heart. They each have their own lives, and theirlives don’t revolve around each other anymore. Louis and Liam have their babiesand their girlfriends and Niall has his career and his friends and Harry –Harry was so busy thinking about himself that he hadn’t realized he’d alreadylost them.

Love is to hold,but not to keep; relationships can’t last for changing; people are never assimple as they seem. Harry knows these things – he’d already written an album’sworth of songs about them before he ever even considered a solo record – but helet himself forget.

Maybe forget’snot the right word. Maybe he’d just loved them so much he thought he had to letthem go.

Maybe he doesn’thave to.

“Don’t let melose you,” he tells Niall, suddenly. The desperation in his voice is almostpalpable. “Please.”

Niall says, “You’llbe fine, Haz. I promise.” And Harry believes him.

He leaves Niallwith milk and biscuits for his tea, and his album, and climbs back into August’sidling car. “Well?” asks August.

“Yeah,” saysHarry. “We’ll be fine.”

***

Harry leaves hislast pre-release meeting with a skip in his step, his heart buoyant. He hadn’trealized what a heavy weight the album had been, how much he’d been worryingover it. It still doesn’t feel perfect, but he gave it the best he has. It’stime he let it out.

“Augie!” Harrycrows, sliding into the backseat. He means to ask for a smoothie, or a coffee,or maybe a combination of both – the next big beverage trend? – when herealizes there’s someone sat beside him.

Niall looks notleast amused. Harry doesn’t bother fighting the urge to touch his face. Hisskin is soft, and a little dry, and the stubble on his cheeks is prickly anddarker than Harry always expects it to be. “This is a bit stalker-ish, isn’tit?” Harry asks.

Niall shrugs. “Iprefer Bond,” he says, doing the accent and everything. “James Bond.” He waitsfor a moment, watching Harry’s face. “How’d it go?”

“It’s done,”Harry sighs. He can’t help touching Niall’s face again, just because he can. “I’mdone.”

Niall nods, hiseyes half-lidded, at ease. “Till you have to sing them every night for the next,like, forever.”

“Oh,” saysHarry, stiffening in surprise. Next to him, Niall bursts into laughter.  

[fbdo1986]

Winter’s Chill - A Succession Fic

a/n: We meet again! Once again, here is something exploring the Roys and their sibling bonds! Admittedly, I’m digging deep into some of my own weaknesses here, but I couldn’t help but write something after discussing the concept (Connor holding onto things that his siblings grew out of) with a friend. This takes place on the timeline of Season 1, but without any of the events transpiring that cause Connor to be brought into conversations surrounding the future of Waystar Royco. 

Warnings: Brief Allusions to Death and Grief/Loss (actual loss is not present)

Word Count: 3222

On a regular January evening in New York, the soft sheen of snow leaves a film on all the windows of houses and apartments alike, and the sound of it brushing up against the panes has an almost transfixing quality. People outside brave the cold, swaddled in winter coats and scarves that are close to dragging on the ground. Crowded streets don’t have a chance to get very slick, yet the chill seems to coat everything the snow doesn’t touch. Those inside face a lingering shiver, with windows and doors locked tightly so as not to let anything in. If it weren’t so regular this time of year, it would be almost comforting. The isolated figures of the Roy siblings take refuge inside, not many miles from one another. The three go through the same motions, nearly. Funneling warm breath into chapped hands, shrugging off coats, as though they passed around the same mannerisms amongst themselves. 

The same can’t be said currently across the country, where both Connor and his girlfriend bustle about inside his home, until Willa stops in front of what catches her eye. 

“What do you have all this stuff for?” She asks, picking up a box that sits against the desk at the far corner of the living room. She sets it on the tabletop, leaving it unopened.

“What’s that?” Connor calls from the kitchen, meandering back into the living room to hear her clearer. 

“You’ve got… boxes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open them.” She traces a hand over the cardboard as he rejoins her side. “Can I open this?” She looks up at him momentarily, her dark eyes meeting his light ones.

“Sure.” He says softly. He backs up, leaving room for her. It’s been a while. Usually, Connor goes through these things alone. He’s unsure, this might hold things that he’s kept so long he almost forgets what they are. Maybe that’s for the better.

So the box is opened. And immediately as her hands retreat, recognition tinged with regret washes over him. There’s no tape saving it from inspection, and the perplexity adorning Willa’s face stings, because there’s no right way—no proper way—to explain these seemingly useless mementos. But he’s kept them in any way he can, physically or otherwise. But now it’s the only way he has a piece of them at all.

He practically hides his face, like a little kid. Caught red-handed in sentimentality that he can’t look in the eye. 

“Are these yours?” She holds them up for him to see. They’re like evidence of a crime scene. Of a better self. It feels like years and years ago. A lifetime. They’re one of various pairs of mittens: blue with a snowflake pattern. They’re the size of a child’s hand. 

Tears clog his throat. His chin quivers. 

“What’s wrong?” She looks at him with a concern that words cannot convey. She knows that his childhood—all of theirs, collectively—is a sore, tender subject maybe best kept in boxes. Her frown gets deeper with every passing second.

He wants to say that it’s nothing. But really, it shows fully how much time has passed. It's etched in the pattern, he swears. But lord, when did these get so small? How could they have grown? Even more than he remembers, much more than that. And he knows, of course he knows they have. But with the true recognition of it—years and years between them, even though it feels like yesterday—his chest tightens, releases, and then the words fall out.

“They’re Kenny’s.” He turns away. “And the red ones are Shiv’s.” He swipes a hand across his face and is unsurprised by the fact that when he draws it away it’s wet with tears. “Rome’s are at the bottom.” 

No one penetrates the silence right away. Finally, Willa speaks tentatively. “Did something happen? They’re not…?”

“No.” He interrupts before she can complete the thought. “I-I talk about them like they’re ghosts. I mourn them like they’re gone. And-and they haunt me. But they’re not.” His shoulders come to meet his ears defensively, nearly folding in on himself.

She softens. “How long has it been?” She knows a lot about Connor’s siblings, he talks about them frequently and rarely spares any details. But she’s never seen them around, and there is—if nothing else—a rift surrounding them purely due to distance. Yet what she’s sure of, something he’s spent his whole life building, is a bond that connects them further than just through their father. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, six years.” Since he’s seen them all at once. It was at Kendall’s wedding. Some big, elaborate thing. And of course, he never made the conscious choice to leave them behind. In fact, he devoted himself to quite the opposite as he left home at eighteen. By twenty-one, he had his own place which served as an unofficial second home for his siblings just as much as it did for him. So it’s difficult to articulate how or why this ever happened. But somewhere between then and now, it all slipped away. 

Now, they paint a funny picture. Kendall, ushered into the business as soon he was old enough with Roman trailing at his heels, and Shiv holding her own trying to shoulder her way into politics, all around the little epicenter that is where they grew up. And, well, he’s somewhere in New Mexico. That’s all he can say. It slipped away. 

He grasps at her hands, but stops himself short. His voice is a near whisper. “Oh, Will. I want it back so badly. I want to go back, turn time around and make it up to them. Because… I remember everything. When each of them were born. When I got home just in time to see Roman for the first time. Shiv’s first cello recital, when I taught Kenny how to swim. And his drawings. I doubt that dad ever kept them.” And then it breaks. “I was everything. Now I’m just… nothing. How do you… forgive yourself for realizing you spent as much time in someone’s life as you have out of it? How do you stop feeling sorry?” 

It hurts him. It hurts him more than the multiple unspoken understandings he’s made throughout his life, some he only fully processed years afterward. More than knowing there was a day when his father decided he just wasn’t enough. And even more than the day where Kendall broke his arm, and Connor swore his chest felt the same impact. All the air was crushed out of his lungs. All it took was one thud and then grass—green grass, streaked through with summer sun—didn’t look quite the same anymore. 

In the pause she brushes the tears from his cheek. “Sweetheart, you can’t just stop everything. You can’t forget that you have a life. You can’t be everything. You can’t.” She stands stoically, softening with the last few words. 

“It’s not about that. It’s the fact that I promised myself I would do something, be something for them. I remember it so clearly.” His face hardens as more tears gather at his chin. He pretends they aren’t there.

“But you said it yourself. They’re not gone. Why have you waited? Why not reach out, try again?”

“I’m scared. I don’t… I don’t want to face them knowing I disappointed them.” It’s as though every year the reminder cuts deeper and deeper. He’s further and further from those days spent in the park, ensuring that before every outing they were bundled up tight, scarves around their necks with their mittened hands in his own. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine it. Anything else. It’s as though anything beyond the smallness of their hands was just pretend. Even as he saw it all unfold in adulthood, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was like seeing a little kid in daddy’s suit. Trying to be big, drowning in clothes. Just playing pretend. 

And then…. it wasn’t anymore. And now the rest comes rushing forward, and now that time finally caught up… it’s terrifying to admit. 

Willa shakes him out of it further. “You can’t keep them like objects, Con. They’re real people. Real people you can talk to. And if you’re even half as good of a brother as you make yourself out to be they definitely miss you. You’re not disappointing anyone.”

He sighs, absentmindedly thumbing the fabric of the small mitten he’s just taken in his hands. It’s Kendall’s. He puts it to his chest and gives it a squeeze. He isn’t quite sure of how they’d see him now, like this. He laughs with tears in his eyes. He’s always been sentimental, sure, but he doesn’t think anyone knows that he’s kept these things.

“So come on. Tell me your stories.” She chuckles, coaxing him to sit as her hands hold his forearms. “You have some, don’t you? About the mittens. Of course you do.” She presses a kiss into his forehead. “And tomorrow, you’ll make this right again. Okay? Call. Write. Start with Kendall. Start anywhere.” Warmth blooms in her features and so they settle, stopping their bustling to reminisce.

“Now, go on. Remember the sweet things." It's useless to combat her smile. So he starts, telling her about when they went out in the cold and he taught them how to make snow angels. How their eyes brightened when they realized there was no restraint here, that they could enjoy themselves with all the giddiness in the world. And so, they made a routine of it. Every chance he got, trekking out of the house just to see the sparks in their eyes. Falling and laughing in snow. Even if it took up the whole afternoon, even if it left their faces red and chapped from the wind, their glow never left.

The next day Connor gathers up the courage to take Willa’s advice, and with a deep breath he dials the phone.

A voice on the other end appears. "Hello?"

"Uh, Kendall?" He's a little frantic, since he didn't expect him to pick up, honestly.

"Con? Are you alright?" He’s unsure exactly why Kendall felt compelled to ask, but he supposes maybe asking a question off the bat isn’t expected. Or, maybe it's the waver in his voice, on the edge of breaking, or the simple fact that he’s doing this at all. 

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry. I know it's a little out of the blue. Hey, uh, if you're busy I can always call back—" He backpedals. It’s too much to put onto him some random night, some odd years later.

"No." Kendall eases him, and takes a seat close to where he stands. "I'm good. We can talk."

Connor doesn’t speak right away, leaving a silence which Kendall scrambles to fill. “... Hey, um.” He exhales sharply. “Clearly you called for some reason, and if you don’t want to go through with it I’m not going to force you, but, it’d be nice. Y’know. To talk.” 

He hates how tense he feels, how abnormal this has become. "I'm sorry, Kenny." 

"Sorry? Why are you sorry? Don’t lie to me." Solid concern pools into his voice. And Connor can picture him like he’s right in front of him.

He weakens. He’s always had a tendency for this, to choke up when it comes down to it. “Gd.” He pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily. “Everything. All of it, Ken. I—I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stay. That I couldn’t be your big brother anymore. The way I used to be.”

“Connie… ” Kendall says, frowning slightly.

“Come on, Ken. You can’t do that to me.” Connor says, smiling sadly as he wipes away more stray tears from his eyes. “You just can’t. You know how I get.” The nickname feels charged, almost. As though it carries the weight of all the memories they forged when it was just him and Kendall.

“But I mean. You-you’ve always done enough. You were always there. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But isn’t that all I’ve ever had, really? What else? What else have I done, or devoted myself to? As if I even did something that ever helped, that made you proud.” Connor huffs dismissively. “I’ve had my whole life to make things better, and what have I done? I retreated.” 

“No, you didn’t. You made us a home, a real one. You always had our backs, and protected us.” It’s something Kendall has held close his whole life. And although he doesn’t talk about it with them, he knows Shiv and Roman house the same sentiment.

“But I just, I’ve been gone so long. So many things have happened and all I’ve wanted to do is ask. But, but, I don’t know. I just, I have some things of yours, from when you were kids, and I dunno. If you’d want them back, I can—I can… ” His chest is heavy. It’s leaden with just wanting to let it out, that he misses him. That he misses when they grew up, when he was their outlet, the doorway to the world beyond their walls. That really, his siblings are the only fond reminders of home. He covers his face momentarily, heaving out a watery sigh.

It’s ridiculous. Trying to rewind time, trying to force Kendall to understand after such a gap of time, or hell, choking up on the telephone. There’s just no easy way to say it. No way to put how he feels into words, especially if he can’t get it out. But honestly, there’s just a piece of him that’s never quite been filled. And while feeling completely whole is out of the question, closing the gap might help. It’s the only thing he’s holding onto.

Connor’s shoulders slump forward. “Just, forgive me, I guess. For how long it’s been.” Neither can deny that.

“Oh, Con. It’s—This? Please. None of it is your fault.” It’s all so much more than that. So much bigger than any of them can fathom, more than they can ever fully come to terms with.

“Still. I could’ve been there. I used to be.” He scoffs. “I don’t even know how you are.”

“You know I can’t blame you for that. Leaving.” Kendall reassures him. “I mean that.”

“So I guess that means things are hard, then.” Connor doesn’t even mean to jump there, it just happens. Because he’s the only one who had the chance.

“It means they’re like they’ve always been. I’m okay.” Kendall laughs softly, and it eases them both.

“Okay.” A small smile flicks to Connor’s face even as he tries to fight it. It’s a touch ironic, how Connor has to be reassured by Kendall now, when the roles were reversed growing up. He was always that figure, a pair of shoulders to be leaned into for comfort, looming above the rest. 

And pretty soon, they slip into normal conversation. Trading simple anecdotes and jokes surrounding their current circumstances, time doesn’t quite rewind—but it does make it slow somehow. Laughter is easy, and somewhere they forget about the hurt that inspired the conversation in the first place.

Yet eventually, silence falls between them. Each brother tenses instinctively, fearing that the distance has been built between them again, that it’s too much to overcome. That they’ve waded deep enough that there’s nothing to fall back on; small talk can’t save them now.

“Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep the things you have. My things. Okay?” Kendall pauses. “... And I miss you.” His heart tugs with guilt and fondness in tandem. And soon he’s spilling quiet tears of his own.

“I miss you, too.” Connor says finally, with a soft droop of his shoulders. The words are an exhale.

“So, um. Come back sometime. And uh, don’t be afraid to stay.” Kendall sniffs. “I’m sure the rest would want to catch up. You still have your place in the city, right? From when we were kids?”

“Yeah, yeah. I do.” Another instance of keeping pieces of the past. He doesn’t hesitate to smile, though.

“Good. Like old times, then.” Kendall says solidly.

“Yeah.” Connor nods to himself. “Yeah.” 

“Honey? It’s snowing.” Willa calls sweetly, eyes and smile equally wide. It’s a sight that they aren’t graced with often, since they’re secluded from the depths of the mountainous ranges of the state, where snow collects on their peaks. He sneaks a glance through the windows and surely enough, light flakes dance to ground below them.

“Well, I won’t keep you.” Kendall’s voice is amused, hiding a chuckle. He’s heard Willa in the background. “But uh, can I count on you? Staying for a little while?”

“You can. I’ll let you know when, but it’ll be soon. I swear.” He’ll make it up to them, he knows he will. This time, he’s sure.

“I know. I always could.” The sentiment is enough to draw tears from them again. They’ve never tried to hide their proclivity for emotion, but it’s the rest that makes it stew in their stomachs—how attached it seems to be to when Kendall would collapse into his arms unthinkingly, with Connor already outstretched, ready for the weight—that makes it that much easier to falter. It’s not… sad, not happy either. Just the understanding that somehow they ended back up just like they used to be, with fragile arms instead of strong ones. When neither is big nor small, just something in between. Something a little too quick to break, something that toes the line between readiness and second-guessing, where both need something bigger to hold them up even when they stand heads above where they used to. 

“Well, uh. Thanks, Kenny. I mean it. ” Connor says sheepishly. “Not just for this, even.” 

“Take care of yourself, alright?” Kendall offers, like it’s a hand on the shoulder.

“I will.”

So that’s how they leave it. No intentional goodbye, yet it’s filled instead by knowing that this time, there’s a plan to return. He won’t let it slip from his hands or get shoved into boxes to become souvenirs of childhood. It’s as tangible as the phone in his hands or the snowflakes coming to rest on the landscape unexpectedly housing them.

He sidles comfortably up against Willa, and the two venture out into the cold. A shiver takes her by the shoulders and he pulls her close as they watch the snow fall gently. The mountains are far away, so the expanse of desert as it meets the sky—quickly blurring to white—seems to chase on forever. There’s nothing around to greet them, as though the world could swallow them up, and it’s not as though there isn’t an occasional wish for more beyond their windows, even when the sky is brilliantly blue. However, they’ve been granted another guest, even if it’s just fleeting snow that dissolves on their fingertips. They’ve been gone from the city for years now, and that’s a reminder on its own. But whereas the city goers let it gather on their clothes and hair without a second thought, almost with annoyance, Connor welcomes it—albeit childishly, without the thought of covering his hands—as an opening, a prospect, an occurrence that he can’t help answer with the tinge of laughter. “Huh.” He smiles, wondering if it’s snowing again in New York. 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Boundaries (Liam x MC)

Summary: Kendall and Liam have a heart to heart about the pressures of the throne and the duties that come with being queen.

A/N: Umm......I am a major TRR fangirl, but the writing for The Royal Heir is a bit...intense. So I just had to write something. My MC’s name is Kendall Mason.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of fertility issues/pregnancy loss. Readers discretion advised.

Kendall knew being the Queen was going to be difficult. Dealing with the people at court, the citizens of Valtoria, all of the people of Cordonia, and foreign royalty and dignitaries was a lot, but she handled it well. After a photo leaking scandal, a conspiracy plot orchestrated by the former king, and multiple kidnapping and assassination attempts, there wasn’t much that could rattle her.

Except the pressure of producing an heir to the throne.

Kendall knew she and Liam were expected to have a baby as soon as possible, but the pressure to conceive started on their honeymoon. And the pressure only got worse. Everyone in Cordonia became so invasive and acted as if they were her OB/GYN, giving unnecessary and unwanted advice and opinions. But she took it all in stride, smiling enthusiastically and thanking everyone nonetheless.

Three months into their marriage, they found out that she was 6 weeks pregnant. To say they were excited was a complete understatement. Kendall was afraid Liam’s heart would actually explode from too much happiness. They agreed to keep it a secret for a while, with only Kendall’s obstetrician being privy to the news. They wanted to have some time to themselves, before the rest of Cordonia found out.

But a few short weeks later, Kendall awoke to a pool of blood in their bed, and unbearable stomach pain. After discreetly making their way to the hospital and running a few tests, Dr. Ramirez came back with the sad news: they lost the baby.

She was very sweet and said all the right things. “It wasn’t your fault, Your Majesty, sometimes these things are predetermined at conception. You’re in perfect health, you and King Liam can start trying again as soon as next month.”

Kendall only knew about the pregnancy for less than a month, but that didn’t ease the hurt. It was her baby and she wanted it so badly.

She and Liam didn’t spend much time grieving though. They were the king and queen, the country needed them to be strong and united. They threw themselves into work and decided that they would just keep trying once the doctor gave them the go-ahead.

That was a year ago, and Kendall still wasn’t pregnant.

It didn’t help that everyone was constantly reminding her of that. Every time she drank or didn’t drink at a party, every time she wore a loose fitting blouse, every time she ate sushi, people were whispering and staring. The faux-sympathetic frowns and sugary sweet tones people took on as they said, “So you still aren’t pregnant?” It was all annoying. 

And tonight was no exception. Kendall was hosting a grand party at her home in Valtoria to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Olivia and Drake. And while she usually loved hosting a big party and being lauded for her impressive hostess skills, she didn’t like being gossip fodder. But she was trying to stay positive and above the fray, because the night wasn’t about her, it was about Olivia and Drake.

“I gotta hand it to you, Mason, you know how to throw a party,” Drake said enthusiastically. He and Kendall were standing next to the bar that had been set up in one of the far corners of the ballroom.

“You aren’t that hard to please,” Kendall said with a laugh. “A Drake Walker party only needs two things: whiskey and red meat.”

Drake gestured to the plate of ribs he was holding, “And you nailed it on both accounts! You even managed to make Olivia happy, a rare feat.”

Olivia had been overjoyed when Kendall set up an axe-throwing area on the back grounds of the estate. Drake had to pull her away after a solid 45 minutes.

“She’s not that hard to read either.”

“Well thank you,” Drake said. “This party is amazing.”

“It’s missing a sword sharpening station, but I suppose it’s okay,” another voice cut in. Drake and Kendall turned around and saw Olivia standing behind them.

Kendall rolled her eyes. “You know you love it.”

Olivia opened her mouth to retort, but she nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

“Well, who would’ve thought that you two would ever get together, much less engaged? I had to go all out.”

Drake sling his arm around Olivia’s waist and pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss on her temple. Olivia tried to break away, but Drake held on tight. He knew she secretly loved the PDA, despite how much she pretended to protest.

A server walked by, holding a tray of wine. It was the same sparkling wine Kendall and Liam served at their wedding. Plucking a glass off of the tray, Kendall lifted it to the couple in salute. “If you two will excuse me, I should go mingle. Enjoy the rest of your party!”

On the other side of the ballroom, Kendall spotted Hana, Bertrand, and Liam talking. Sending her presence, Liam looked up and locked eyes with Kendall. He gave her a small wink. Before she could make a beeline to where they were, she was stopped by an elderly woman. She was short, wore a bright red shawl and chunky jewelry, and had her hair wrapped into a tight bun at the base of her neck. The woman grabbed Kendall by the wrist, catching her by surprise.

“Hello,” Kendall greeted. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, but I think I can help you, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t–”

“My name is Calista, and I’m a local herbalist.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Calista.”

“You’re so pretty, dearie,” Calista complimented, gently patting the young queen on her hand.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.”

“I’m sure the king can’t keep his hands off of you most of the time.”

Kendall was taken aback by the older woman’s brazenness. A few people standing around not-so-subtly lowered their voices or stopped talking altogether, hoping to be able to catch a snippet of the conversation.

She stammered for a bit, at a total loss for words. Did this woman, a stranger, really attempt to strike up a conversation about her sex life with Liam? In public?

“Now, I’ve noticed that you and the King are still not with child. Not even just me, everyone has.”

Kendall dug her nails into the palm of her hand, trying to keep herself calm. “Well yes but–”

“I have the perfect solution for you!” Calista cut in, excitedly. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out two tiny tin cans and handed them to Kendall.

“What is this?” Kendall asked, confused.

“This one,” Calista tapped on the tin can in Kendall’s right hand, “is a detox tea. You probably can’t get pregnant because lord only knows what kind of toxins and impurities are in your system right now.”

“Excuse me?”

“This will clean you right out, and get your body into optimal baby making help,” Calista continued, completely oblivious to the fact that Kendall was not enjoying this conversation at all. “And this one is my own special fertility tea. I’ve been making it for over 40 years, and have had nothing but success. It has raspberry, cinnamon, chamomile, and a few other secret ingredients I can’t give out. It's a fool-proof combination. If this doesn’t get you pregnant within a month, then you might be a lost cause.”

She could hear a few ladies in the background gasp and snicker at the dig. In that moment, she became acutely aware of the people around her. The way she was being openly mocked, the way a random noblewoman whispering to her friend.

“God, how tragically embarrassing is this scene? This crazy old bat accosting Kendall like this?”

“Hell, I’m all for it if it can make Kendall actually do her job and get pregnant.”

Kendall wanted to turn around and tell those women to address her by her proper title and to get the fuck out of her house, but she didn’t even have to time gather her thoughts because they started talking again.

“He should’ve just stayed with Madeleine.”

“Karina, you’re horrible!

“What? You and I both know she’s an overachiever and would’ve been pregnant by now. With twins!”

The women dissolved into a fit of giggles and Kendall felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. Trying not to cause a scene and give the people more of a reason to talk, she simply turned around and walked out of the ballroom, ignoring her guests. 

Across the ballroom, Liam looked through the crowd of people, expecting to see his wife walk towards him. Instead he saw her hastily turn to leave and practically run out of the room.

“Where’s Kendall going?” He asked, watching her leave.

“Who knows,” Hana said with a shrug. “She’s the hostess, she’s probably being pulled in a million different directions.”

“Oh yes,” Bertrand agreed. “I remember the days of throwing extravagant balls at that Beaumont estate. No matter how much you do, there’s always more to be done. You never get the chance to actually enjoy the party. And I can’t imagine the pressure of having to throw a party in Olivia’s honor.”

Liam nodded. That made sense, but he still wanted to see for himself. He smiled at his two friends. “If you two will excuse me, I’ll go find her and see if I can be of any assistance.”

He quickly weaved through the throngs of people, trying to keep up Kendall. She was moving a lot faster than he anticipated. “Kendall?”

She just ignored him and kept walking. She walked into their master suite, slamming the door behind her.

He opened the door to their bedroom, but he didn’t see Kendall anywhere. “Kendall?” Scanning the bedroom, he saw the double doors leading to the balcony were open.

After closing and locking the door, he stepped out onto the balcony. Kendall was out there, leaning over the edge, overlooking the view.

“Kendall, darling, I’ve been following and calling out for you. You didn’t notice?” Kendall turned around and saw tears streaming down her face. “Kendall! Why are you crying, my love?”

Kendall shook her head, as if she was willing herself to not cry. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s something,” Liam argued. He closed the gap between them and cradled her face between his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I was heading over to talk to you in the ballroom over and some lady stopped me, and segwayed into a very inappropriate conversation about our lack of children. She all but told me that my body is some sort of toxic wasteland and that I was a lost cause, and she gave me some of her shitty laxative tea.”

“She said that to you?”

“Not in those exact words, no. I was paraphrasing. I probably could’ve handled it if she wasn’t so public and obnoxious. I could see everyone around us laughing at me. Someone even said you should’ve stayed with Madeleine because she would’ve produced an heir by now.”

Liam’s eyes darkened. “Who said that?”

“I don’t know, some aristocrat. It doesn’t matter, because I’m sure she’s not the only one who’s thinking about it.”

“Surely you aren’t buying into such ridiculous drivel.” Kendall didn’t reply. “Kendall…”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Liam, the pressure isn’t on you, it’s on me. It’s hard to stay above the fray and not buy into the drivel as you do put it. The invasiveness, the entitlement, it’s overwhelming. These people don’t even see me as a human being anymore, I’m just an incubator. My “duty” is to give you an heir, and I haven’t done it yet, so the respect for me is at an all time low. They see me as worthless, as a bad investment. Never mind the fact that I’ve already been pregnant and lost a baby. Never mind the fact that I’ve completely changed my diet and exercise routine, and I don’t drink caffeine anymore, and I’ve made my doctor test every reproductive organ that I have. And on top of all of that, I still have to be the queen. I still attend every council meeting, every gala, every royal tour. But hell, they probably wouldn’t even care if they knew. They’d still see me as a failure. I’m doing the best that I can, but my best is good enough.”

Liam wrapped his arms around Kendall’s waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t care. “I’m so sorry you feel like that.”

“Trust, no one is more aware than me of the fact that I haven’t successfully produced an heir,” Kendall continued. “I don’t need to be beat over the head with it.”

Liam pulled away from the hug, and instead grabbed Kendall’s small hand in his larger one. He gently tugged until they were walking back into their room. Once they made it to the bed, he sat down. “Lay down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lay down,” Liam repeated.

“Liam, we have over 150 guests in our ballroom right now, I’m not going to bed.”

“I don’t care about the guests. I don’t care about you being the hostess, the duchess, or the queen right now. So can you please get in bed?”

After a mini stare down, Kendall humored her husband and got in the bed. He took her feet and gently placed them into his lap, unbuckling the strappy heels and tossing them to the floor.

“Hey, those are Jimmy Choo!”

Liam lifted one of her legs and dropped a kiss onto her ankle. “If they’re ruined, I’ll buy you another pair, my love.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Liam carefully moved her feet out of his lap. He crawled to the top of the bed where Kendall was laying and pulled her in to him, her head landing on his chest. He gently threaded his fingers through her long dark hair, stopping at the base of her head to massage her scalp.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, breaking the silence. “I hate that you’ve been under such stress and that you don’t feel supported by the people around us.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I do. In theory, I know how difficult the first year is for a new queen. And even though you’re doing a brilliant job, I should’ve made you feel more comfortable, especially after the miscarriage. I should’ve eased the pressure because you were thrown into the deep end and you’re feeling it from every angle right now.”

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to throw myself into work. I didn’t want to dwell on that.”

“I love you, Kendall Juliette Mason. I love you more than anything else, more than anyone else. You are my entire world, and there’s nothing you can do that will ever change that.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Liam confirmed. “You’re the love of my life. And if you ever feel overwhelmed or pressured by anyone, come to me. But I’ll also check in more. Does that sound fair?”

Kendall nodded. “Yes.”

“And we’re taking a break, from this whole baby making thing.”

“What?” Kendall propped herself up by her elbows and looked at her husband. “We can do that?”

“We’re the king and queen.”

“Exactly.”

“I love you, and your health and well-being are my only priority. I don’t need you running yourself into the ground because Cordonia is demanding an heir. And if it’s meant to happen, we will have them when the time is right. You need to take the pressure off of yourself.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know. But I’ll help you in whatever way I can. So for six months, how about we just be a regular newlywed couple. No more of you eating a diet you clearly hate, no more ovulation calendars, no more extremely regulated sex.”

“You’d really be okay with that? With putting a pause on the family planning?”

“Yes,” Liam answered, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

Kendall couldn’t even begin to describe the relief that rolled through her body at her husband’s words. If felt like a 50 pound weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on Liam’s lips. “I love you,” she said after pulling away.

“I love you more, my queen,” Liam replied with a warm smile. “Now, I say we end this party, send everyone on their way, and curl into bed and watch one of those silly American reality tv-shows you love so much.”

Kendall broke out into a grin. “That sounds perfect.”

~~/~~

The next morning, Kendall woke up to the soft sunlight streaming through the windows and not her usual alarm clock. Rolling over, instead of finding Liam beside her, she was met with the cold sheets. Sitting up, she noticed that his side of the bed was fully made up and he was nowhere to be found.

She did notice a fresh newspaper sitting on her bedside table. Picking it up, the first thing she noticed was a picture of Liam. The headline read: King Liam Issues Warning About Privacy

From the communications office of His Majesty, King Liam:

Hello my fellow Cordonians. 

I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I thought writing my thoughts down would be better than struggling to speak about them.

First off, I just want to say thank you for all of the support regarding my ascension to the throne and subsequent marriage to my beautiful wife, Her Majesty, Queen Kendall. The support of our people means more to us than you could possibly know.

But it has become increasingly apparent that lines have been crossed and boundaries have been disrespected. As public figures and public people, Queen Kendall and I know all too well that our lives require a certain level of give and take between ourselves and the public. And we fully understand that the Cordonian people are eagerly awaiting the news of an heir to the throne. While the eagerness is respected and reciprocated on our part as well, some things have gone too far. The excitement has turned into gossip and downright bullying. Above all else, the Queen is a human being who deserves the same basic decency and right to privacy that is awarded to all Cordonian citizens. The decision to start a family is a deeply personal one, no matter your station in life, and the Queen has been unjustly stripped of that, even more so than I. 

Let it be known, that I will absolutely not tolerate the continued disrespect and harassment of my wife, be it from our courtiers, nobles, the press, or the general public. And until we make a formal announcement ourselves, the topic of whether or not Queen Kendall and I are expecting a baby is no longer up for public discussion, and it is non negotiable.  

Thank you for taking the time to read my open letter, and I hope my warning is heeded in the immediate future.

Sincerely,

Liam, King of Cordonia

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Kendall looked up from the newspaper and saw Liam standing in their doorway, leaning against the frame.

She held up the newspaper. “You did this?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“After all of our guests left and you fell asleep,” Liam answered. “And the editor of the Cordonian Times wasn’t going to say no to an exclusive from the King.”

“You really did all of that for me?”

Liam stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Kendall, I’d bring you the stars in the sky if I could. I hope what I wrote was okay. I should’ve consulted you on it first, but I was so worked up last night I just needed to–”

Kendall jumped out of the bed and practically flung herself at Liam, wrapping her legs around his waist. She pulled him into a searing kiss, her fingers interlocking at the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” Kendall said sincerely. “What you wrote is more than okay, it’s perfect.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, I have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re just spoiling me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.”

“Okay, what's this new surprise?”

“It took a lot of maneuvering, but you and I are going to spend one glorious week on the island where we spent our honeymoon.”

“What? Are you serious?”

Liam chuckled. Whenever Kendall got too excited, her New York accent came out. He thought it was adorable. “Yes. Our amazing council will hold down the fort in our absence, as will Regina, if they need any additional assistance. Everyone is under strict instructions to not contact us unless this country is burning to the ground.”

Kendall smiled. “What did I do to deserve such an amazing husband?”

“You’re the amazing one. I’m just following your lead.”

“When do we leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh my goodness, you really don’t give a girl much notice!”

Liam watched in amusement as Kendall ran to their spacious walk-in closet, gathering clothes to pack.

“Hey, Kendall?” He called, causing her to stop in her tracks.

She looked up. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” Kendall said softly.

“Not possible.”

[tenebraetempest]

Football, Video Games and High School - A Phan AU Chapter 1

AO3 Wattpad Deviantart

Dan left Wokingham after his grandmother passed. With his father and younger brother, they moved to Manchester to be close to where his grandmothers grave was. But now Dan has to face the challenges of a new school. Bullies, new friends, and crushes. How was he going to survive? And why was he so enthralled with the Captain of the football (Americans read: Soccer) team, some weird tall northerner Phil Lester?

Aka your typical jock and nerd AU because I'm a sucker for those and love dan and phil

WARNING: Aggressive language and slurs used against Dan; May not be suitable for those who are sensitive to topics of bullying, and self harm 

“HEY FAG!” Was the first thing Dan heard stepping through the halls of his new school. He was a 16 year old sophomore who just transferred from Wokingham to Manchester, after his father decided to move back to the place where Dan’s grandmother was raised, and the place where she was buried, so they wouldn’t be too far from her. But Dan’s first day would stick it to his mind that this was the worst idea, and day, ever.

Dan felt his shoulders hinge forward that named being shot at him as soon as he was spotted by some jerk. He wasn’t a small target—But, definitely an easy one, being a lanky 6’3”, wearing a long black trench coat, his brown hair flipped over his face and was only like that as he straightened it ever morning, black skinny jeans and probably some semi-formal dress shirt hidden under said trench coat. “Hope your mommy saw what you wore before you stepped out looking like some emo bitch.” The other student, he presumed was a senior, stepped over to him with the confidence of 20 horsemen.

“I heard he uses his boyfriends cum to take care of all of that hair on his head.” Another one walked behind the other senior, laughing like an idiot. They both high-fived, and Dan managed to rush off in their distraction. They both laughed again watching him run off, probably spouting more bullshit about him but he tried to ignore it, feeling his face red from anger and tears welting in his eyes. Dammit, they’re just stupid insults that mean nothing, why? Dan rushed off to the bathroom so he could wash his face, breathing deeply. He was not about to cry on his first day here.

Suddenly he heard a toilet flush and someone came out of the stall and he froze. He freaked out a bit, trembling slightly with his hands clinging to the sink. He kept his eyes down to the sink, afraid to make eye contact or to even look at him.

“You alright?” He heard the other male speak up. He had a rather northern English accent, he guessed he wasn’t from Manchester either… But Dan didn’t answer right away. It took him a moment to gather up his confidence.

“I-I’m fine. He turned quickly stumbling his way over to the paper towels to wipe his hands and face. The guy seemed to have lost interest and left finally, and Dan exhaled loudly once he was gone. He tossed them away in the can, and exited the bathroom right as the bell rang. Fuck, he didn’t know how to get to his class…

A girl suddenly approached him, having a light auburn hair, she smiled up to Dan, “Hey! You look new. Do you need help to your class?” She questioned, and Dan flustered slightly at this girls sudden enthusiasm. She must be one of those kids that guides around freshmen. Dan shook his head, and left without saying anything, awkwardly fumbling with the paper in his hand. Geometry... Class 22E. 2 for the second floor? He looked around to the classes on the first floor all being labelled with a 1 in front of them, so he figured he was right.

He clambered up the stairs, mostly trying to avoid anyone else hoping dearly he wouldn’t run into those two assholes again… The late bell rang and he cursed, seeing a bunch of other confused students in the hall like him. Well, it’s the first day, so hopefully the teacher won’t be mad since he’s new… and it is the first day.

Dan finally got to his class, showing his schedule to the old man standing by the door. His eyes squinted a scrutinizing look over it. “Daniel J Howell… I’ll put you as present. Don’t come late again. This is the only day I’ll excuse it. Late kids get immediate detention.” The man informed him, and Dan nervously nodded, quietly walking into the room, not bothering to look at faces. He simply stared at the desk and made sure to pick one far in the back corner, so he could be on his own. He sat down pulling out his notebook and pencil once he was seated. The teacher stood by the door, still waiting for some students.

Things seemed peaceful at first, no trouble, until suddenly, the two boys from earlier had slammed their hands down on his desk, causing him to visibly jump out of shock. “Aww look, we scared the baby~” One chirped, elbowing his friend. Oh great… His first class just ended up being these fucking douchebags again. Amazing. “Hey sweetheart, what did your boyfriend say when he learned you were moving to Manchester, ay?” He smirked, and the other howled in laughter as if it was the funniest thing ever.

Dan kinda sunk in his chair, shaking from both fear and anger building inside of him. “Go away. I don’t want trouble…” Dan muttered quietly.

“Is that so? Funny when you look as flashy as you do, doll face. Like some freakishly tall lady. Maybe that’s what you are, eh freak? You some tranny of the sorts?”

“Yo, back off.” A familiar voice resonated from behind the two seniors in sport jackets. It was that same northern Dan had heard in the bathroom coming out of the stall. The two seniors turned away to him, and they both snickered.

“Ah, you got the captain even coming over here. You have fun with that.” One of them teased rudely, and turned away. “Yeah, now the captains gonna deal with you fag.” Said the other, and the ‘captain’ lifted a hand.

“I said, leave already you two.” His voice was sterner that time, a cold undertone digging into all three of them. They both scrambled off, and Dan stared up to him. He seemed to be about his height, if not slightly shorter. He had dark hair yet piercing eyes. They seemed blue- No, slightly greenish. It was a pretty mix of colors he couldn’t completely discern. “You… Be careful, kid.” He glared, his eyes drilling into Dan’s.

He then turned away to go take his seat as the teacher had stepped back into the class. Once he had sat down, a thought rushed to his head. Oh, jeez. I hope he took that as legit concerned warning, and not a threat… I don’t mean to come of menacing…

Holy fucking shit I’m going to die, I’m going to die. I just came to this school and I’m already going to fucking die. Were the words bouncing and repeating themselves around Dan’s head after the captain guy walked away, all the hairs on his body raised and his blood rushing and heart thrashing against his ribcage. He could barely even hear the teacher over the pulsation he heard in his ears when he called his name.

“DANIEL! I’ve called your name twice. Please pay attention next time.” The teacher yelled, causing multiple students around to snicker.

“S-Sorry sir. It won’t happen again…” Dan said, his eyes staring to the empty journal sitting on his desk.

“Good.” He then looked back to his role, continuing to call out a few names. “Joseph Ken,” He heard, was one of the boys harassing him. “Adam Kendall,” Was the other. Soon, the captain guy—“Phillip Lester,” He heard the teacher call out. That was the captain… Phillip. He corrected the teacher to refer to him as ‘Phil’. Those were the only names he remembered hearing being called on the role because they were the only ones he recognized the voices responding to it to. So Phil was the guy threatening him. This was really a shitty first day of school. He’s already gotten on the wrong side of the football (Americans read: soccer) team. Amazing. Great. Wonderful. Just what he needed along with the stresses of moving.

Dan tried to survive the rest of his day, and realized he had two more classes with Phil, and not the other two. Despite Phil absolutely terrifying him and his being sure he was literally going to probably die, he couldn’t help but find himself staring at Phil. He was so kind to the people he spoke to, a charmer even. He had such a bright and sweet smile… Like a sunshine was bursting inside of his chest. Nervously, in their Psychology class, while the teacher was going over what they were planning for the year, Dan found himself staring at Phil and started to doodle him in his journal. Everything he could see- Without making it obvious he was staring.

Though that was hard to do, some girls who had been talking with him noticed and told him. Phil looked back to Dan, and he freaked out. Staring intently to his journal scared. He heard him laugh quietly. It wasn’t a taunting laugh… A gentle, quiet laugh. His face was a deep red, and he shut his journal, keeping silent and doing nothing for the rest of the class, worrying he would come over to see what he was doing and he was a dead man if he let him see.

The day passed without any more trouble thankfully, and Dan was ready to be done with the day already. Dan finally gathered all of his stuff from locker, and draped it over his shoulder trying to head home as quickly as possible. He was interrupted by said captain earlier. Oh no… This was bad. Phil walked over, “Howell.” He called him by his last name. He must’ve remembered it after this morning’s incident... He felt his blood run cold as he saw the pale arm suddenly there in his face, slammed up against the locker. Fuck—He was cornered up against the locker by the captain of the Football team. He was definitely going to try to beat the shit out of him or something—He honestly didn’t know. It must’ve been from all of his creepy staring—Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Howell, is it?” Phil asked, looking down at him. Dan was taller, but he sunk down out of nervousness, so it made it seem like Phil was taller than him in this instance. Dan took a moment of avoiding eye contact until he finally looked up to him. Just as Phil was about to open his mouth again Dan broke down, tears streaming from his eyes. “Ah—Wait, don’t—” Dan ran off quickly under Phil’s arm, freaking the hell out and trying to escape as quickly as possible. “Howell!!” Phil yelled out, but he was already out of sight. He bent over, he had left his pencil here… Whoops. Phil picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. He should return it to him later…

Dan was rushing out at once he had made it to the bus loop, Adam and Joseph were there, one of them yanking at his arm, and shoving him to the ground. “Hey hey, hold up buddy, what’s the rush?” Adam smirked, and Dan hissed feeling his body tossed to the ground, trembling. “Yeah, no need to run home to you mommy and sob, kid.” Joseph interjected, and bent over, and reached into his pocket, ripping his wallet out of it. “Oh look, he has a wallet. Wonder if this emo fucks got any money to spare?”

“W-Wait! Please give it back!” Dan begged, fumbling to get up, but Adam kicked him in the gut and knocked him down again.

“Ey, stay down boy.” He laughed, as if talking to a dog. They both opened it up and nothing was in it besides a school ID. “What, is this for show or something? Fucking useless,” He tore into the weak fabric of the wallet with ease, “Joseph, help me tear it all up.”

“Please, stop…! My- My grandmother-” He blubbered out, and they laughed.

“Oh, a gift from your nana?” Joseph scoffed, “Clearly she doesn’t love you that much with this flimsy old thing. Sucks, eh?” HE said, holding the destroyed wallet in his grasp and then dropping it.

They laughed like idiots, and walked off. Dan felt tears on his face, shaking as he picked the pieces back up, shoving them into his pocket. He sniffled and wiped his face off, walking home pathetically. On the way home, he stopped by the cemetery where his grandmother was buried. He sat down by the grave, sighing softly. “Hey, Nan.” He sat there, wiping the tears that were still left on his face away.

“I’m sorry for letting the wallet you made get ruined… Today’s been awful… I wish we had just buried you back home… But maybe you’re happier here, I don’t know.” Dan fumbled around with his trench coat sleeves. “I’ve already gotten on the bad side of the football team, I’m basically already destined for failure here on my first day, Christ… Ah, sorry for using the name in vein, you’d probably be upset at me doing that…” He gently placed down the pieces of the wallet on the ground of his Grandmothers grave, and stood up. “I should head home… I’ll be back, nan.”  As he was about to walk away, he just as quickly dropped down to the ground, catching a glimpse of Phil here. D-Did he follow him?!

No… It didn’t seem that way. He carried a bouquet of white morning glories, walking and not even noticing Dan was also there. Dan crotched down behind his grandmother’s headstone, watching Phil. He watched him as he crouched down in front of a grave, placing the flowers down with teary eyes. He seemed to be mumbling something, and then walking off. Dan tilted his head, and saw that Phil saw something. He ducked down and stayed completely silent, and then Phil was on his way. Dan looked to the headstone that Phil just walked away from. The last name read Lester… Must’ve been someone important to him. Maybe he was wrong about Phil. But then again maybe it was just that one soft side of him. He was going to avoid those three like the plague… He then finally headed home, trying to collect himself after all of the nonsense.

“I’m home,” Dan called out, stepping inside, and heading up to his room immediately. He angrily tossed his bag against the wall, feeling upset. He pulled out his journal that was empty this morning, now being covered in scribbles and poems he had written all day, he liked to write poems in his spare time. He had a lot of creative energy he didn’t really know how to express. He looked to the drawing of Phil he had in his journal and sighed softly. Why was he so enamored with this fucking boy? He probably thought he was some creep and nothing more. This was ridiculous. He needed to just get over it. Yet something inside of him just… Wanted to see his face again. His sweet laugh and soft smile… Dammit, he was fucking stupid.

He dropped his journal back in his bag, he needed to just sit down and wind back with some video games he can’t deal with this. He grabbed out his DS and thought he could relax… Hopefully just with some games and hide until he’s actually obligated to do stuff. And he needs to sort his confused fucking feelings…

“Hey, you know that new kid was here too, huh? Fucking creep watched you.” Joseph suddenly appeared behind Phil as he was walking home.

“Hm? Why do I care? He probably was visiting someone too.” Phil suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“He could be some creepy stalker too. You know he was staring at you all day.” He looked to him with a nasty look. “Some fucker staring at you happening to be at the same place is a bit enough for suspicion of stalking, don’t you think?”

“Jeez, back off already. Give him a break. I want to head home without you spouting off nonsense for once.” Phil rolled his eyes, and walked faster.

“Well… When you find out he’s a stalker, you’re going to be thanking me!”

Phil waved him off. “Probably not.” He too longer strides now rushing off home. He got inside, and yelled out to his mom. “Mom! I’m home, I’m gonna go to my room for a while!”

“Don’t forget to do the dishes later!” His mother called back.

“I won’t!” He sighed was he was in his room again, sliding his back against the door. Back in school again, huh… Though something was different about it. He had met that new kid—Daniel was his name? He had really pretty eyes and it looked like his hair was really soft… Shit, what? Why are you letting yourself get flustered over some new kid, not to mention, a guy? God he’d be exiled out of existence if this ever slipped to his team. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the Black mechanical pencil that had been dropped by him. He should return it to his locker tomorrow morning… Dan would probably run scared again if he tried to confront him. He couldn’t get his mind off thinking about how he must’ve accidently scared the hell out of him this morning.

Maybe an apology letter is in order to… He’d have to come to school really early if he wanted to deliver it though… Yeah, that would be the best thing to do. He didn’t want to leave the school with any kids holding a vendetta against him. He was a senior with only this year left. Don’t screw it up, he told himself. You can make it through one more year of football and teachers and schoolwork… Then you’re done. Just… Tough it out. Yeah… He sat down at his desk, now, and decided to go ahead and start with the letter right away.