#people. and maybe it's because England means so much to me? like I am heartbroken that London has been tarnished for her because of

[silverysongs]

i feel like people (on my dash) aren't talking about so long, london and it's the song that means the most to me. like I full-on wept in my car today listening to it

[sweeetcreatvre]

God-Sent Angel

“I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

a/n: i’ve been in a mood!! these last few days. i haven’t written in forever, but this idea popped into my head and the words just floated onto the page. i hope you guys like it! i am a very small page still, so if you see this if you could like, repost, and consider following i will love you forever. thank you for reading 🤍

pairing: harry x reader

warnings: explicit talk of mental/emotional abuse, please don’t read if you can’t handle it. this was heavily based off of my experience with my parents. this is not meant to try and romanticize abuse in any way, and please don’t take it like that. abuse is not fun, there’s no good side to it. a little angsty? fluff

word count: ~2.6k

•••

You met Harry when Sarah and Mitch introduced the two of you a little over a year ago. Sarah’s your best friend, you’ve known her since uni, and she’d convinced you to meet Harry by telling you that it would just make it easier for the two of you to hang out if they didn’t have to split their time between you and Harry and you all just hung out together.

You immediately took a liking to Harry. Because of your horrid anxiety and how awkward it made you, you usually hold back until you know people a little better, but something about Harry put you at such ease with him.

You hung out a couple times alone as “friends”, but both realized it was more than that when you declined Sarah and Mitch’s offer to go out because you already had a date with chinese take out and a line up of rom-coms you’d planned to watch for the night.

You and Harry bonded over cheesy movies. With his busy schedule and how difficult it is for him to go in public, you would watch movies at one of your homes and then reenact the scenes with him.

Things with Harry were easy, he made you happy, and he put you at ease.

•••

You went home to Manchester with Harry one day and truly had the best time. You loved how much his family cared for each other, and how they interacted.

That night, as you were laying on his chest in Anne’s guest room bed, you spoke the words that had been in your head all night, “I hope our family is like yours one day.” You didn’t really plan on saying it, the words just kind of came out.

You were worried you’d scared Harry by being so open about kids with him. You were serious obviously, having met his family and everything, but you hadn’t really talked about kids yet.

He still hadn’t talked causing you to look up at him and sit up a little. “I mean, not that we’re having kids or anything anytime soon, I just thought maybe one day, or not, That’s fine too.” You let it all back in one breath wishing you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

He pulled you back to his chest and kissed the top of your forehead before whispering, “(y/n), I want nothing more than to have a family with you one day. I love you, and I plan on keeping you around for as long as you’ll let me.”

You smile into his chest and place a soft kiss there. “I love you too,” your voice is muffled by his chest.

•••

After you met Anne and Gemma, Harry kept begging you to introduce him to your family. For a while you were able to put it off, saying they were in America, which is true, but not the reason you won’t let him meet them.

Your parents were... difficult. They never hit you growing up, not enough to leave any marks at least, but they yelled, and got angry, and got drunk, and got manipulative. Because they never hit you, it took you a long time to accept what they were doing was abuse.

When you turned 18 you applied to colleges abroad and got accepted into a university in England, you haven’t looked back since. Your parents were always the thing holding you back in life, so 3 years later, when your little brother turned 18 and moved out of the house, you cut off all communication with them. You still talk to your siblings, them being the only thing that kept you sane. You talked to them almost daily, and sometimes you’d even go visit them. Your oldest sister came to England a few times, her being the only one you fully trusted to not tell your parents where you lived.

But telling all of that to Harry was not something you were interested in. It was too much baggage, and no one ever understood how you could just cut off the people who raised you. It was always “They’re your parents, they love you, give them a second chance.” and you’re tired of hearing how you’re hurting them when they hurt you for 18 years.

So you made up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet them for as long as possible.

You spent your first Christmas together at Anne’s saying you couldn’t afford to go home, and you refused to take the money Harry offered to buy you a ticket.

That summer you compromised with him and your older sister came to stay with you.

Harry loved your sister. He said you act so similar, and he loves seeing you so happy. Your sister brings out a different side of you, and Harry adored it.

That also meant he just wanted to see more of your family.

•••

Harry had never spent a Christmas away from his family, and you didn’t want to spend Christmas away from him, so you were hoping that was enough for him to accept you not going home.

As you walked into Harry’s home after work he calls out to you “I’m in the kitchen, love!”

You walk into the kitchen and immediately your senses get filled with a pleasant smell. As you walk in, he turns from the stove to give you a kiss, but he holds you in his arms as you pull away from each other.

“Hi, baby,” you half-whisper half-laugh out to him.

“I missed you today,” he began pressing more kisses to your jaw then down your neck, but they were slow and sweet.

Your arms around his neck, you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, loving that it’s growing long again, the curls tangling in your fingers.

“What’s for dinner it smells delicious?” you ask him as he’s still kissing at your neck.

“You smell delicious, I’ll have you,” he mumbles in between kisses, but then his kisses picked up a faster pace and got more toothy.

You laugh at him and then gasp as he’s biting at your skin then soothing it with his tongue. However, you push him away because you’re starved, only having a small lunch because you had a busy day. “Baby, I’d love to but I’m starved, feed me first.”

He laughs at you then turns back to the stove. He lifts the lid on the soup pot so you were able to look inside. “I made your favorite, figured it would be nice for the snowy day it is.”

You smile at him, he never fails to make you so happy by doing simple things for you.

Your whole life you struggled with feeling like your presence was too much. Always calming yourself down so you were never too excited or too sad or asking for too much.

Harry never made you feel like that though. He went above and beyond for you time after time and you loved that about him. He’d never take your praises for it either. “‘s no big deal, just wanted to remind you how much I love you,” he would say, but to you that was a huge deal.

After you eat you clean up the dishes together and you’re ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with him, but Harry has other plans for the evening.

“I have an early Christmas present for you,” he says after coming back from his bedroom where he disappeared for a few minutes.

“Harry..” you started, but he silenced you with his finger pressing to your lips.

“It’s for both of us really, and it can’t wait until Christmas, so you have to open it now,” he places a small wrapped box in front of you, “go on.”

You hesitantly untie the bow holding the top to the bow then take the lid off. Inside there’s two pieces of paper, two plane tickets. You read the information on the tickets and see that they’re round trip from the 22nd to the 26th and they’re to Indianapolis airport. AKA Harry has planned a trip for the two of you to go home together for Christmas so he can meet the rest of your family. Shit.

You stare at the tickets in disbelief, then at him, then back to the tickets. “H..” you start but you trail off, not even knowing what to do about this. He spent hundreds of dollars on you to meet your family, and gave up Christmas with his own too, and there’s no way you’re going.

He seems to pick up on the fact that you’ve been awfully silent. “Ya gonna say anything?” he asks carefully. You can hear in his voice that he’s afraid he’s messed up, but he’s trying to hide it with a smile and joke. He’s being so hesitant with you, scared to make a move or say anything.

You look up at him with shiny eyes, tears threatening to fall over. You were gonna say something now, but before you could Harry started again.

“Oh, God, I messed up didn’t I? I- I shouldn’t have done all this planning without even asking you. I shouldn’t have just invited myself home with you. You know what, it’s fine I don’t care about my ticket, you can go by yourself, I’ll stay here. You never see your family, I mean I should’ve known you would want to be alone with them. You go, I’ll stay here, I don’t care, just please stop looking at me like that or I swear to God I’ll start crying too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been this scared to lose, I don’t care what you need. Take it, take it all.” The whole thing is rushed out and you can tell he’s freaking out.

You grab his hand, still in your place on the couch and he’s standing in front of you. You intertwine your fingers, “Can you sit down?” you whisper softy to him. He looks at you for a moment before moving to sit next to you, but you’re both turned sideways so you’re still facing each other.

“You can tell me if you don’t want me to come I won’t be upset.” He sounds so heartbroken by the idea that he’s scaring you off and it’s killing you.

“No, H, no, baby. I don’t want you going, but I’m also not going to go. It’s not the gift I love it, and I love that you always try to buy me the most personalized gift, but I just- I can’t go home.”

“I don’t understand. Your family is there, you- you should go be with them for Christmas.”

Staring at your hands in your lap you think of how you’re going to tell him this. “I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

“What?” He’s not mad, just more confused.

“You haven’t met my family because I don’t talk to them anymore. My parents, I mean. I obviously talk to my siblings, you know i talk to them, but not my parents. I haven’t spoken to them in 4 years, and I intend to keep it that way.” A few tears have slipped down your face and your voice keeps breaking.

“Can I ask why?” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“They were abusive,” you barely whisper the words and Harry has you in his arms immediately his chin rests on the top of your head, and with shaky breath you cry into his chest, holding tightly around his waist feeling so vulnerable and exposed right now. You’re sitting sideways in his lap, one of his hands is on your back, the other on your waist and his thumb is rubbing back and forth on the small bit of exposed skin above your pants where your shirt has ridden up.

When your breathing has gotten a little more normal, you look up at him and he places a kiss on your forehead. “They weren’t physical, but the screamed.. a lot” your voice sounded weak, but it wasn’t as shaky.

“You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to, I mean. I believe you.” You shake your head.

“I want to tell you.” You felt so bad for lying to him for so long. “It wasn’t ever bad until I was like 11 or 12. My sister says she believes it’s just because she took a lot of the heat.” You have 2 older sisters, Charlotte and Sarah, they’re 9 and 11 years older than you. Your oldest sister was the target of a lot of their stunts. “She moved out when I was 8, Sarah when I was 9, and we had a couple good years. Then we moved in with my grandma, and shit hit the fan.”

“I struggled with the workload of my classes, and they didn’t like that, said it made them look bad. My dad would get mad and yell, he even told me he hated me once. My mom checked on them obsessively, and I’d get angry messages about how bad I’m doing during the school day.”

“When my grandma got super sick, everything got ten times worse. She was my rock and I saw her declining everyday from January-August. My dad continued to be up my ass about grades, while also drinking ridiculous amounts. My mom fell into what I think was a depressive episode, and would come home late and say things like ‘I didn’t come home because no body values me here anyways’ but not in a way that was sad, she’d be angry about it and yell about it to us.”

“After she died I had to learn to live without her, and I had no clue just how much she was keeping us together. The next 3 years was constant screaming and manipulation. My grades slipped a little, and they hated that I wasn’t their perfect little prodigy who just pranced around knowing everything anymore. They made me feel so worthless, and like my entire existence was a burden. I was too loud, and too talkative, and too lazy, but not smart enough, and I didn’t work hard enough, and I had no pride in the things I did.” You paused for a minute.

“You’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much or too little.” You whisper out the confession to him knowing that it is how you truly feel about him. “I moved here when I was 18, and cut off all ties with them when Carson turned 18. 3 years later. I’m the only one of us to actually do it, but I’m just so much happier without them in my life.”

“I’m convinced you’re an angel,” His voice cracks and you look up to him to notice he’s shed tear or two and more are threatening to slip out, “sent for me, straight from the gods, because I don’t think any human is as amazing as you. I don’t have any idea what I did to deserve and angel like you, but I’m never letting you go. I love you, and I love that you’ll cry in my arms and how open you are with me. You really are a god-sent fucking angel.” He’s cupping your face in his large hand now. “We won’t go to the States for Christmas. We’ll go to Manchester, and we’ll spend it with my mom and sister.”

“I’m sorry we’re not going, I know how bad you wanted to meet them.”

“No, baby, it’s ok. We’ll spend all the Christmases here, and one day we’ll host Christmas. With our family that will be just like mine, like you said you wanted the first time you met Mom and Gem. You’re gonna be so happy, that’s my life mission, to make my heavenly angel happy.”

“I am happy, H. Right here, with you.”

[morosemagick]

Young, Wild, Free | Stiorra x Sigtryggr One Shot

Warning: None

Words: 2110

TAGGED:

@solinarimoon @emilyhufflepufftlk @ivarinleatherpants @osferth @magravenwrites @thebohemianpenguin

What is freedom? Are you born with it? Given to you the way your mother gives you life. Is it given by the Gods… or God. Must you fight for it? Earn it on the fields of battle. Spill blood and sweat and tears for it. Why do men raise their swords in the name of freedom? Why do other men think they can take it away? How do you put a price on silver? How can one compare it to the weight of silver? If such a thing can be given a price, then what is the point of trying to live? Why waste the freedom on life, and why not wish immediately for death if freedom just does not seem worth the price?

“Sigtryggr? Sigtryggr, are you listening to me?” Stiorra called out as she looked forward to the Dane lying in the grass with his arms behind his head.

“I am listening,” He tells her, though Stiorra can see him with his eyes close and a piece of bark in his mouth, “You asked about freedom.”

“I did,” Stiorra grumbles as she picks at the grass, “So?”

“So?”

“What do you think?” Stiorra snips as she lays back in the grass, her body facing the opposite way of his but their heads aligned, “Do you feel freedom is a right or something you must earn?”

“What do you think?” Sigtryggr questioned her and Stiorra groaned.

“I asked you first,” She complained as she turned her head to face him, catching Sigtrygger momentarily open an eye to peek her way with a smirk on his face, “Go on, then.”

“It must be earned,” Sigtryggr responded, keeping his eyes closed, “You must pay for it, be it with blood or silver, and the price is always changing… so you will always owe a debt.”

“And say you are born a slave, how do you pay for it?” Stiorra asked, testing his answer.

“It is a disadvantage, you will always be fighting harder. Paying more,” Sigtryggr explains, “Why does this interest you so much?”

“Look,” Stiorra tells him, tapping his shoulder to make sure Sigtryggr opens his eyes. Above them, a bird flies across the blue sky, though it is hard to tell what it is from so far away, “That bird is born free. Nothing will ever take its freedom away.”

“Except death,” Sigtryggr counters.

Stiorra glances his way and sees Sigtryggr staring her way with both eyes open, “Yes, except death.”

“You are a curious woman,” He tells her in a soft voice and a smile on his face.

"I have lived a small life," Stiorra tells him calmly, the corner of her lip creeping upward, "I wish to expand my world."

"Is that why you agreed to come with me to Eoferwic?" Sigtryggr asks with a certain tone about it.

Sounds like flirtation.

Stiorra rolls her eyes, scoffing at him, "Well, I am not going to Eoferwic for you."

"Is that right?" Sigtryggr smirks.

"I chose to go with you because I refuse to go back to Coccham," Stiorra explains, staring back to the sky, "I want to explore the world, like my father has."

"And you shall," Sigtryggr tells her, "This world is yours to stake claim to."

"I don't want to stake claim to anything," Stiorra corrected him, "I just want to understand. To see with the eyes of a traveler. Go wherever the wind takes me."

They would be the future.

"You will," Sigtryggr promises her, "I promise you."

-------------------------------------<3--------------------------------------

Her curiosity for knowledge is what pulls him to her. Her hunger to take in the world, and see all that the kingdoms have to offer. Stiorra is unlike any Dane he has ever met. More like himself, thriving to be more than those who came before. Desperate to be better than their ancestors.

"What was it like," Stiorra asked him as they traveled the road on horseback, moving side by side, "Being raised surrounded by Danes."

"We are raised with the desire for two things," Sigtryggr told her in all honesty, "Reputation and silver."

"Is that what you came to England for?" Stiorra question, no teasing or taunting found in her voice.

Just constant curiosity.

"In Ireland, we fought for honor and wealth, yet we found ourselves lacking both," Sigtryggr explained to her, "It was there I learned that men who fight for such things usually find themselves gaining neither. It's trivial. There are better ways to leave your mark in time."

"And you hope to leave your mark how?" Stiorra asked with her brow raised, "Ruling Eoferwic?"

Sigtryggr shrugged, "I have yet to decide, but I know that the best way to make your mark on a land is to grow roots. You must set a foundation so that your mark remains permanent."

"So what… start a family? Have children?" The face Stiorra made was of disdain.

It made Sigtryggr laugh.

"Is that so awful?" He asks.

"I am sick of children," Stiorra said as she made a noise of disgust, "I rather find myself on the fields of war, praying for Valhalla."

"You rather war than children?"

"You have clearly not spent enough time with children," Stiorra told him with a glare, making Sigtryggr laugh some more, "They are a menace."

"I shall take your word for it."

-------------------------------------<3--------------------------------------

"Do you believe in destiny?” Stiorra asked him one day, while they sat together in front of a fire. Camped for the night surrounded by the rest of Sigtryggr’s Dane army.

“Destiny? Sure,” He stirs the fire with a stick, “All Dane’s believe in fate in some way.”

“My father use to tell us destiny is all,” Stiorra explains as she drinks from her cup, “The God’s have a place for us, all of us. A role we must play. A path we must take. All of it already written, and we cannot fight it. My father’s destiny lies in Bebbanburg, my brothers belong to his God-”

“And what is your destiny, Stiorra Uhtredsdottir?” Sigtryggr asks her with a brow raised, and she shrugs.

“I have yet to figure that out.” She tells him, her eyes drifting to the fire, “I have wants and desires but no means to discover whether I will acquire any of them. I have dreams, but I know dreaming is for children. I could be a warrior, a leader, hopefully not a mother. My path has yet to be revealed. Hopefully, I will find it in Eoferwic.”

“What if who you are needed to be is not who want to be?” Sigtrygger brings up, making Stiorra eyes glance his way, “We all want things, but what the Gods want might differ.”

“Then I will follow the path they put me on,” Stiorra tells him as she smiles into the fire, “No matter where it takes me.” When she looks up again, he’s still looking at her, and it makes her blush and turn her face back towards the fire.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just-” Stiorra chuckles to herself and then looks up again, “My mother taught me a song... when I was a child, do you want to hear it?”

“A song?” He questions.

Stiorra rolls her eyes and scoffs, playfully, “Do you want to hear it, or not?”

“Sure,” Sigtryggr tells her sweetly, “Sing for me.”

“With a tiny rope and a bag of stone, and all heartbroken wishing bone, she's going in, she's going home. Oh this little golden knight, fighting every day behind the light, behind the light.” Stiorra voice starts off soft, but picks up and gets more confident as her song goes on, “Walking faster down the street, red eyes and no shoes on her feet, going on this journey, determined to complete. This is farewell, this is goodnight the last time she will see the daylight. See the daylight.” She’s smiling now as she continues on. Thinking of those she’s left behind, and the journey she has started alone, “And she's going on a journey always walking down the road. And the water is always calling; ‘My little child, please come home’.”

Other people in the camp have started to take notice of Stiorra’s voice. Stopping what they are doing, and approaching the fire she and Sigtryygr sit around to listen to her sing. The song, relaxing and peaceful, seems to catch the attention of everyone there, but it is Sigtrggyr that Stiorra keeps her eyes on the whole song.

“That's when she went away. Away from the light of day. Standing by the riverside, patiently waiting for the tide to come along, to come along. The waters going through her feet and on her body wind so cold and sweet. So cold and sweet,” The smile on her face is while as she sings, but not as sweet and kind as the one on the other man’s face. The song, a gift from her mother, means so much to her and now it will have meaning to all those near her. Her new people. Her new family, “And she's going on a journey, always walking down the road. And the water is always calling ‘My little child, please come home’. And the stars were brightly shining, when she reached out they were gone, and the water started calling ‘My little child, please come home’.“ She thinks one last time, on her life, and notices that maybe this place is her destiny. The path the Gods have sent her on a good one, “When a shiny light hit her eye and she turned around and climbed towards the sky. Towards the sky.”

The men and women around her clap and cheer happily as she finishes her song, and Sigtrggyr raises his cup to her words. She basks in the love and care given to her by her new people, as well as this man she has chosen to follow… or at least that destiny has chosen for her to follow. This life is a new adventure, and she is ready to see where it takes her.

More importantly, she is happy the path she is taking is one Sigtryggr will take with her.

-------------------------------------<3--------------------------------------

Stiorra walks the streets of Eoferwic alone.

It is safe for her here, in this Daneland. She can do such things here.

She tours the markets alone, taking in its people. Her people. Danes and Saxons living together in peace. As it should be, she thinks to herself as she passes a stall of gems and jewels. No war or hate, only peace. She wonders how long it will last, and tries not to dwell too much on the end. This is just the beginning, anyway, no reason to fret on when the enemy will arise.

For that is a worry for another day.

A stall of trinkets catches her eye, and she stops to peruse. The wares the man sells are of great beauty and amongst everything he owns, Stiorra spots a peculiar ring with a piece of amber at its center. She picks up the ring and holds it up to the sun, admiring the beauty it holds inside. A beauty, similar to that of her father’s sword. The man running the stall notices her staring at the ring, and walks over to greet her.

“Like that piece, Lady?”

“I do,” She smiles, trying it on for size, “How much for it?”

“That piece is rare, you won’t find any like it,” He tells her, cleaning his hands with a rag, “I’ll give it to you for one piece of silver.”

“She'll take it," Sigtryggr tells the man, suddenly appearing at her side like magic, with a piece of silver already in his hand.

"Earl Sigtryggr," The trader says in a bit of shock as he catches the silver the Dane has flipped into his hands, "Thank you, Lord."

"I could have paid for it, you know," Stiorra tells him, only a touch annoyed with his kindness.

Sigtryggr smiles at her, admiring the amber ring that sits on her finger, "I know,"

The trader looks between the two of them, and raises a brow, "Is this your lady, Lord?"

Stiorra glares at Sigtryggr, who's smiling, and then looks at the trader, "He wishes."

"I assumed you were a Dane, Lady, my apologies," The trader tells her and Stiorra chuckles not seeing where the man was getting at.

"I am," She tells the trader before looking back at Sigtryggr, "I am both, and I am neither. I am all that destiny desires me to be," Stiorra looks down at the ring, smiling, and then takes Sigtryggr's hand, "Young. Wild. Free."

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

 I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

 Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails. 

 In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships. 

 I closed the computer. 

 It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour. 

 My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight. 

 She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose. 

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

 I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them. 

 She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...” 

 I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer. 

 “Okay,” she said. And that was it. 

 Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him. 

 “Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence. 

 “What else did she tell you?” 

 He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

 He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit. 

 And that was that.  

 A week passed like this. 

 But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor. 

 I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with. 

 On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door. 

 “Is it good?” I asked. 

 Her hands reviewed my wants list.  

 “That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added. 

 She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

 I nodded.

 “Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

 “But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said. 

 She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

 I shot her a glance.

 “I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.” 

 “Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t. 

 “You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.” 

 I couldn’t argue with her. 

 “Is it too much?” she asked.

 Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again. 

 “I’ve just been overwhelmed.” 

 “Who have you been thinking about?” 

 She noticed I started picking my hangnail. 

 She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?” 

 “Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be. 

 “He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important. 

 “Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

 “Like his friends?”

 His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?” 

 “Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

 I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show. 

 “Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?” 

 “Probably.” 

 “You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’ 

 I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.” 

 “You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?” 

 My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

 “Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.” 

 I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw. 

 “Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.” 

 I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache. 

 Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here. 

 And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world. 

 As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. 

 I’d been so cruel. 

 I was weak.  

 I felt guilty for feeling this way at all. 

 And then I would watch the dust again.

 It was a cycle. 

 About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight. 

 What was Harry doing this far from campus? 

 My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito. 

 I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.  

 It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust. 

 Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other. 

 “You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito. 

 “What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.” 

 In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks. 

 Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve. 

 “So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?” 

 “I don’t like the sorority.” 

 His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?” 

 I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me. 

 The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus. 

 “I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell. 

 “Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense. 

 “They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 “Dad! That’s verging on sexist.” 

 “Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?” 

 I shook my head. 

 “Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.” 

 “It’s not all bad…” 

 “Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.” 

 I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore. 

 “Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?” 

 “Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful. 

 I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?” 

 “Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

 “And?!!?”

 Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me? 

 He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.” 

 My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?” 

 “Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

 “Dad!” 

 “All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.” 

 “He asked about me?” 

 “Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.” 

 The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?” 

 He hummed. 

 “Why are people so fake?” 

 He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse. 

 Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

 He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home. 

 In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides. 

 Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry. 

 I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better. 

 It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.  

 At one point, I was going to have to choose myself. 

 I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark. 

 If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list. 

 -----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug. 

 I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer). 

 The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see… 

 “Can I just stay the weekend?” 

 “Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?” 

 Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game. 

 I’d been in my hole long enough. 

 “Yeah, I did.”

 “Well, you COULD stay-”

 I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again. 

 “I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.” 

 From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left. 

 Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

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

 Come on, come on, come ON. 

 The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate. 

 It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium. 

 When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch. 

 I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit. 

 For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic. 

 I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it. 

 Each piece was sold. 

 I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester. 

 It echoed in the space. 

 I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

 I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.  

 Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together. 

 Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

 Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him. 

 My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

 Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

 Next. 

 Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy. 

 Next. 

 It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

 Next.

 BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

 Next.

 DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by. 

 My thumb paused, letting it stay. 

 I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back. 

 The voicemail rolled into the next. 

 I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

 A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten. 

 My heart beat fast. 

 It was very, very quiet. 

 With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.” 

 I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way. 

 ---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

 “You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight. 

 “How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.  

 “How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.” 

 Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing. 

 “He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.  

 “Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.” 

 Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say. 

 From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn. 

 As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened. 

 Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?” 

 “No.”

 She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?” 

 I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable. 

 “No, I’ll tell you later.” 

 I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much. 

 The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint. 

 We’d lost. 

 Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.” 

 But I stopped her. 

 “I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced. 

 “Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.” 

 “I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.” 

 “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.  

 I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers. 

 She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.” 

 “Yeah and there’s a reason for that.” 

 Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.” 

 As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them. 

 “Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.” 

 “I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now. 

 “She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained. 

 “But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny. 

 My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?” 

 I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand. 

 “I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

 She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

 She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning. 

 I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere. 

 The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it. 

 Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag. 

 “Thank you,” I said, smiling. 

 She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

 Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace. 

 For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped. 

 “Harry?” 

 There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson. 

 I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?” 

 He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell. 

 I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged. 

 “You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!” 

 “We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact. 

 “Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!” 

 “Take me to the physical therapy room?” 

 I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back. 

 “No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

 My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed. 

 “Answer me,” he growled. 

 My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room.  “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

 “Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me. 

 “Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.” 

 The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

 “Why aren’t all the cops here?” 

 “They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow. 

 “Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

 He nodded, resting against a lamp post. 

 I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed. 

 I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal. 

 I didn’t care.

 We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when- 

 “WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest. 

 I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.  

 I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned. 

 There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.  

 “You’re doing good,” I whispered. 

 “So are you,” he gritted out. 

 I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

 The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

 “Fucking hurts,” he groaned. 

 “Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.” 

 “Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted. 

 “I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.” 

 “You’ve done enough, please-”

 “STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges. 

 With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me. 

 Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car. 

 Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now?? 

 “Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

 “To your house.” 

 His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock. 

 “HARRY!” 

 “We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite. 

 I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again. 

 “Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay. 

 “They’ll ask… less..less questions...” 

 His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed. 

 “Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature. 

 Lionel picked up on the second ring. 

 “It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-” 

 “What?!” 

 “- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.” 

 “Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

 “I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.” 

 There was a long pause. 

 “Hello?” my voice wavered. 

 “Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber. 

 Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible. 

 “On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.” 

 The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all. 

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :) 

[indieboysarehot]

The public eye - Nick Valensi x reader pt 9

“The Strokes’ Guitarist, Nick Valensi, Picks Fight With The Libertines’ Pete Doherty!” Nikolai read aloud to the band, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.  Everyone shook their head in a “goddammit” sort of way, Nick being the most upset and embarrassed over his impulsive bad behavior. He barely remembered much of what happened, the only proof being the headlines, the pictures, and his very bruised knuckles. 

“Fuck…why am I so stupid?!” Nick questioned out loud.  Fab was about to respond, but Albert put a hand over his friend’s mouth as to not elevate the situation further. Fab always said it how it was, but right now was NOT the time. 

Your head was in your boyfriend’s lap and, when he said that, you frowned at him. “It’s not fully your fault…he instigated it with kissing me—“

“Yeah, but I couldve literally done anything else but punch the guy..”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Albert began, “and now you - we - have to live with the consequences. Next time, Nick, maybe you should think a little. It’s not that hard. Like I get it dude, I really do, but like…you punched one of England’s favorite rockstars. How are you gonna get back it favor with the Brits?”

“I dont know. If I did know, I’d be doing it right now.” Nick looked down and frowned back at you. He really did a number on that guy and now he felt really horrible about it. BUT he still believed that it was all on Pete for kissing you…although he didn’t know that the guitarist and you were dating. BUT he was still gonna believe it was Pete’s fault. 

Julian spoke up, “well…you better come up with something cuz - if not - we’re kinda fucked right now.”

Nick pursed his lips. This was gonna be hard. 

——————

Your boyfriend thought long and hard about what to do, and the only option that seemed most fit was this….

“I dont think we should see each other anymore…” 

You two were cuddling when he dropped that on you, mumbling it into your hair as you two were spooning with him as the big spoon (like always).  Immediately you turned around. 

“What do you mean ‘I dont think we should see each other anymore’? Just because of one fucking fight, youre gonna throw away our relationship?”

“I just dont want to fuck up your reputation. You’re now in the public eye and people are listening to your stuff and I dont wanna be what holds you back. I can deal with my reputation being fucked, but if I see yours getting that way too, I’ll never forgive myself.” 

Truly hurt and angry, you got up from his bunk, mumbling a “fuck you, Nick Valensi.” 

Already he was regretting what he did. 

——————-

For the rest of the tour, you ignored Nick. It was an awkward last month with everyone feeling like they were walking on eggshells as to not upset you or him.  Nick had gotten a bit out of control, partying and bringing random girls back to the bus, finding any way he could to get drugs, and not even showing up to soundchecks…and shows. 

You stopped practicing and writing music; he was your muse and how could you write without your muse?

In other terms…the last leg of the tour was a mess and it was tiring for all of you. No one wanted to continue the tour. 

——————

When you got back to New York, you avoided the guys as much as possible, even moving out of the apartment that you shared with Julian and Albert. You explained that it was “for the best” and that it would be a good idea if you “moved on.” They were heartbroken. 

Nick kept getting more wild with his days and nights and everyone was getting more and more concerned by the moment, but it wasnt until the night when he left right in the middle of a show that everyone - including tabloids and fans - became truly worried. Yeah, everyone was a bit concerned, but him grabbing Julian’s mic and saying “fuck this” and walking off was just a whole new level of concerning. He took this band so seriously, but….now….the problems he had created had gotten truly out of hand. 

You were always keeping a close eye on him from a distance and now you were scared. Really really scared. 

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

oooooooh sheeeeeeeit. he done fucked up this time

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH30

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, violence, gore

WC: 3974

A/N: Hi, I wanna thank you all for staying with me and this story. I have received a rather not very nice comment about this. As in their opinion, I stretched it out pointlessly and there’s too much sex, and that I should please go back and edit out the unnecessary parts. I just don’t know what happens to don’t like, don’t read. But yeah, can’t lie that it was kind of a discourage. Nonetheless, I’m sticking to my story, because it helped me keep myself sane in quarantine. So here you go. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N’s awake before him, Cuddles is already gone but Bubbles’ still lying next to her. She takes the little cat and walks out, closing the door behind her. She feeds Cuddles, sits down with Bubbles to see if the little baby would eat and the cat does, which is a relief, really. While she waits to see if Bubbles will throw up again, she turns on the coffee maker. The noise makes the three of them jump. 

When she sees that Bubbles can hold her food in, she makes coffee, takes the mugs into the bedroom and climbs to bed with Dean, she places the mug on her bedside table and begins to nudge at his face, rubs her nose along his scruff. It’s scratchy but soft, just the way she likes it. She then kisses his jaw, the corner of his lips, his cheek, his nose. 

“It’s too early,” Dean mumbles, his eyes are still closed.

“It’s not.”

“Ah, it’s not because you say it’s not.” He turns and buries his face into his pillow. 

“Exactly,” She kisses along the skin that is visible, his ear, the nape of his neck. “And I made you coffee.”

Dean tilts his head up, opens up his one eye, it’s a little red rimmed from sleep. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“Or what do you want?”

“I’m offended. Just because I made you coffee doesn’t mean that I did something stupid or want something?”

“Yeah, it does.” Dean chuckles before reaching his hand out to grab her and pull her to him. “What is it?”

It’s her turn to bury her face into the pillow and she mumbles. “I have to go meet my cousin today.” 

“You have a cousin?” 

Well, how can she say that she didn’t know about it until last night either? 

“Yeah, my aunt makes me go meet him. He came over from England and is in town for a short while.” She lies, hopes Dean buys it. 

“When are you meeting him?” He kisses the nape of her neck, his scruff scratches at her skin. She welcomes the burn. 

“This afternoon in a café. Just thought you should know so as not to be mad at me again.”

Dean chuckles and manhandles her around so she’s lying on top of him. “Baby, I’m never mad at you.”

“Annoyed.”

“Yeah, I’ve been annoyed.” And then he pauses before he adds, “This afternoon, huh? I don’t have anything scheduled. Why don’t I come with you?”

She honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. How can she say that she doesn’t want him around? That Ketch could expose her? She can’t even text Ketch to blow it off because she foolishly deleted his number and blocked him too.

“Yeah, sure.” She says instead, doesn’t know why but the thought of having Dean around will probably make her feel better? It’ll at least keep her from spilling Ketch everything she knows and make it worse. 

  *

  Dean and her are sitting at the table, decided to go there before for lunch and now they’re having coffee and waiting for Ketch. 

She’s glad Dean agreed to go eat there beforehand but she has never seen Ketch and it would really be embarrassing if she wouldn’t even recognize her own ‘cousin’. 

Linda did give her info about him though, it was after they talked last time that she sent Y/N a brief profile. 

“There you are!” 

She looks up at the man who’s smiling brightly at her. He wears a suit, complete with tie and all, dark grey, white shirt, black tie. There’s an expensive watch on his wrist and a ring on his pinky which, she thinks, is weird but to each their own.

“Hi,” She says, stands up and there’s a short confusion of how she should greet him but he takes the lead, kisses her cheeks and pulls her in for a hug.

One that doesn’t seem to end and she hates that. Dean’s clearing his throat audibly and Ketch releases her with a grin that signals trouble.

This is going great.

“Ketch, this is Dean—”

“—Winchester, I know,” Ketch extends a hand and adds, “I saw your face in the newspaper a couple of days ago.”

Ah. What a liar.

Dean takes Ketch’s hand and there’s a small smile on Dean’s face but she knows that expression too well. It says something like he doesn’t know where to categorize Ketch yet. Dean wants to play nice but he can sense that’s something off about that guy. She can’t blame Dean, she’s weirded out herself.

They sit down and Ketch orders a coffee before he starts to talk, and my god, that man can talk.

Occasionally Dean would look at her, his eyes pleading for her to end this madness.

“What are you doing for a living?” Dean asks Ketch and she doesn’t know if it’s out of genuine curiosity or if it’s a way for Dean to show that he’s polite. 

“I used to work for the MI6.” Ketch says matter of factly, like it’s no fucking big deal. “But now I’m a solicitor. Or as you Americans say, lawyer.”

Dean nods. If the mention of the MI6 did throw him off, he doesn’t show it. “And what are you doing in America?”

“Oh, you know, visiting my relatives,” Ketch nods at Y/N, “And I’m looking for a job. Looking to stay, actually.”

“Your mom will be heartbroken.” She mumbles. How fucking dare he uses the meeting to try to get in while Y/N told Linda that she’s got this.

“Yeah, but I’m not the first one who breaks her heart, am I?” Ketch looks at her, raising an eyebrow. It’s a dig at Linda’s and their relationship that has become straining, she knows.

“Anyway,” Ketch goes on, “I was wondering since you’re here, Dean, maybe you know of any openings in your organization?”

So this is what it was about, isn’t it? He really does try to get in? Will probably try to destroy her life and Dean’s before she can finish her mission? Not on her fucking watch. She’s fuming on the inside.

Dean sets his coffee down, one of his hands goes under the table, rubs at her thigh, as if he knows her distress. “I wouldn’t know about it. Ms MacLeod is my Head of HR. She’d know. Maybe you could contact her.”

Ketch looks at Dean, perplexed. As if he doesn’t get rejected often.

“I thought maybe, you know, we’re family.” Ketch adds.

“Oh, stop that bullshit Ketch, we are not! I barely know you and then you come here and want to meet me just because you want a job?” She’s outraged, feels stupid because she made Dean come here and there’s someone sitting across from her that could blow off her cover within a blink of an eye!

“Babe, it’s okay.” Dean squeezes her thigh. 

“It’s not, Dean! It’s not okay. I didn’t know he wanted to ask for a job. I’m— Let’s go.” She stands up, leaving Dean to catch up to her. “And Ketch, if you want a job, get one yourself.”

Dean fishes out a bill from his pants and leaves it on the table. Y/N’s already walking out. 

*

“I hate my family.” She breathes out as she leans her head against the car door, feels hot and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you for my family's gain.” 

“Baby, really, it’s okay.” Dean tries to calm her down, his hand finds her thigh, stroking it up and down. 

“I feel so foolish.” 

“You are not. You’re being nice and sometimes, people tend to take advantage of that. I’m used to it, actually.”

“I don’t want my family taking advantage of you.”

Dean chuckles, “I think I can handle it fine myself, you really don’t have to worry about that.”

Her bra stabs at her sides, that damn thing, seriously. Everything feels too restrictive right now. 

Y/N unhooks her bra on the back, slips out of the straps and pulls it out through the arm of her shirt. She feels so much better now.

Dean’s forehead creases when he sees it. “What did you do?”

She shrugs. 

“How is that even possible?” 

She laughs, “You’ve never seen someone do it before? You’re shitting me.”

“Well, sweetheart, usually I take them off or the woman does it, you know, more gracefully.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not graceful, I get it. Bras are overrated anyway.” She bunches it up and throws it to the floor.

Dean has to laugh, “Yeah, they are. Your tits shouldn’t be covered by anything. Except maybe my hands.”

He says it in that straight face of his that makes her face flare up.

  Y/N’s taking a bath to relax from Ketch and Dean has brought her a glass of wine, almost changed his mind on going out for that meeting when he saw her there, with foam on her head and a smile decorating her pink cheeks. Felt a strong urge to jump right in too, but he’s really got to go, Cas would give him hell if he would show up too late and that would definitely happen if he would stay next to the tub for too long.

So he steals a kiss before he tells her that he’ll see her later. And it’s hard. Hard to walk out from a wet and naked girl in his tub. He does it nonetheless, someone has got to be the reasonable one around here and today’s his turn.

He walks out, and takes his keys when he hears the doorbell.

They never have someone ringing the doorbell. At least not when they didn’t order anything and he knows he didn’t but maybe she ordered something before taking a bath and forgot to tell him.

Dean opens to Ketch.

“Hi, uh, I just wanna come and apologize for making a fool out of myself. Is Y/N here?” The man looks behind Dean, then and really, Dean doesn’t know what it is but something about Ketch irks him very much. 

Against his better judgment, Dean opens the door wider, letting Ketch step in. He is family after all, right? He lets Ketch follow him inside. “Yeah, she’s still taking a ba—”

The blow to the back of his head knocks Dean out of balance and to the side, his body hitting the wall close to the entrance. He did not see that coming.

Dean turns around, his vision is blurry from the blow. Before he can even react, Ketch’s right fist connects with Dean's face. Once, twice, three times, sending him on his side, his body hits the floor with a dull heavy thud. 

Yep, definitely didn’t see it coming. 

He tries to get up, but there’s a blow in his stomach, feet kicking at his ribs, it punches the air out of his lungs. 

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls, and tuns on his stomach, kneels up a little. He sees splatters of blood on the floor. There’s another kick, right into his middle, making him feel nauseous.

  Y/N hears the bell, and thinks it’s weird because she didn’t order anything and she doubts that Dean did, knowing that he’ll be out until late at night.

With a weird feeling in her guts, she gets out of the bath, wraps a towel around her, and secures it with a knot.

She tiptoes out of the bathroom and when she reaches the bedroom, she hears a thud of something heavy hitting a wall. 

There’s noises like someone’s grunting before there’s another thud and this time, she can feel the vibration of the flooring beneath her bare feet.

Instinctively, she runs to the closet, retrieves a gun from the cabinet, has to punch in the code twice because her hands are shaking. 

Y/N breathes relief when it opens and she quickly grabs the gun Dean has bought for her. Probably not really bought it, but what does it matter now.

Clicking off the safety, she draws it, walks slowly to the bedroom door that’s standing ajar. Dean never closes it when he knows that she’ll be alone. Knowing that she likes it when the cats can come in and bother her.

There she sees it, Dean’s on the floor on his knees, his one arm braced on the floor while he holds his stomach with his other hand. His face is bloody and in pain, there’s a cut above his left eyebrow. Dark red blood splatters the floor.

Standing above Dean, is Ketch. He has a crooked grin on his face. 

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls and Ketch only laughs, kicks Dean some more.

She tries to keep calm, tries to breath. That fucking son of a bitch, for real!

Taking one last deep breath, she steps out but holds her gun steady, points it towards Ketch.

“You tracked our car.” She says calmly. She’s not dumb, can put two and two together. But also because she doesn’t have any other explanation on how Ketch could know where she lives. Not even Linda knows it because they don’t track phones of undercover agents. 

“Aw, Y/N no guns please, I didn’t use mine.” Ketch lifts his jacket, showing her that his gun is still in his holster. “Well, that’s a lie, I did for the first blow but I didn’t shoot. I need him alive, you understand, don’t you?” Ketch sounds so fucking arrogant and it makes her blood boil.

Dean’s wincing on the floor between them. And it hurts her, it physically hurts her to see him hurt. 

“Shut up!” She hisses, has tears in her eyes. There’s so much going on in her mind, she doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. All she knows is that she wants Ketch to stop hurting Dean.

“Lower your gun, darling.” Ketch is still looking at her with a shiteating grin on his face. “You wouldn’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you, am I right?. How would you explain to my mo—”

The bullet goes right through the crease between his eyebrows. 

She doesn’t know why she pulled the trigger. Doesn’t know why she killed Ketch. Fact is that she didn’t want to hear him say more, fact is, that he invaded her life. Fact is, that he hurt Dean and by doing it, he — by proxy — hurt her too. And there’s no way out of it. Ketch already knows too much. If she doesn’t do it, Dean will and she has to answer too many questions that Dean will be throwing at her. Questions she doesn’t even have answers to herself. She doesn’t want to face them yet. Not when she still has time left that she could actually enjoy with him.

She killed a man. 

The realization hit her like a freight train.

Not only a man. A special agent. A Fed. 

One of her own. 

Linda will never forgive her.

The Bureau will never forgive her.

She’s no better than Dean. She’s now in this as much as he is. This life has consumed her, and there’s no way of getting out. She isn’t even sure now if she even wants to get out at all.

Letting herself sink down to the floor, she leans the side of her face against the door frame and starts to cry. Her hand slowly releases her gun.

Her vision is blurry and she closes her eyes for a brief moment, thinking about all the consequences of her action. When she opens her eyes again, Dean’s right in front of her. He’s in pain, she can see that but nonetheless he crawled over the floor to be close to her.

His hands cradle her face as he places a kiss on her forehead, thumbs brushing at the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“You okay?” He asks her, and there’s a split in his lips and blood at the corner of his mouth. 

He’s hurt more than she is but he still asks her if she’s okay. 

She does not deserve that.

Unable to answer, she sits still and that prompts Dean to get closer, he sits up, grunting loudly as he does. And then he holds her face firm in his hands, lays his forehead on hers. Their noses touch. 

“Baby, I need to know if you’re okay.”

She nods but cries some more. 

He kisses her lips and she kisses him back, pours every sorry she can not say into the kiss.

Dean then pulls her towards his chest, lets her cry into it. “I guess I have to call for a clean up, huh?” 

Y/N nods again and then out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the two cats slowly coming out from under the sofa. They walk towards Dean and her. She smiles and Dean lets go off her, grunting when he adjusts himself. He takes Bubbles, places the cat on her lap while he holds Cuddles. 

It dawns on her then, after she strokes the cats for a while that she didn’t ask if he’s okay.

He’s been asking her twice and she wasn’t even the one who took the beating!

“Are you okay?” She finally asks and Dean breathes out, pulls the corner of his lips up to a little smile.

“Never been better.” 

“Liar.” She mutters, then adds, “I need to check if anything’s broken.” Sitting up straight, she lowers Bubbles back on the floor but the cat stays close, watches her as she cradles Dean’s face.

“Baby,” Dean’s holding his breath when she skims one of her hands over his ribs, flinches as she touches him, “I can’t believe I’m saying this myself, but I’d rather you don’t touch me right now.”

She purses her lips. “But a kiss is okay?”

“That’s always okay.” He smiles a weak smile.

 *

 Y/N helps Dean after, throws his hand over her shoulder and walks him over to the couch before she calls for Sergei. 

“I’m gonna call Cas,” He grunts some more as he settles into the couch.

She walks over to the door and leaves it open for when Sergei comes up. 

Turning around, she avoids looking at the dead body of Ketch on the floor. 

“Do you want anyone to know about your cousin?”

She frowns at first before it dawns on her that he’s talking about Ketch. Hopes that he didn’t see her hesitation, “No.” She then says, “No, I don’t.”

Because it’s the truth. If possible, she’d like to avoid anyone ever finding out.

“Okay.” Dean nods.

There’s a knock at the door and she leads Sergei into the apartment. The man doesn’t even bat an eye when he sees a dead body on the floor. She guesses that he’s not paid to ask questions.

She leaves Sergei and Dean in the living room, disappears into the bedroom and thinks about calling Linda.

Y/N doesn’t call though. Maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s better when she acts like she doesn’t know anything at all. 

 *

 Sergei helps Dean into bed and Y/N props up the pillows before undressing him. He grunts out in pain as she makes him sit up a little to get his shirt off his shoulders. He’s already half asleep by the time she pulls off his socks. 

She’s been given two different kinds of painkillers by Sergei and he tells her exactly when Dean should take which pills over the next three days. Thankfully nothing’s broken. 

Cas arrives with a couple of men later and they immediately start with the clean up. Nobody said a word. It’s like everyone knows what they're doing and she has the feeling that it’s not the first time that they’re doing this.

Y/N takes the cats and closes the room to their bedroom. The workers are being loud but Dean’s even snoring a little by now, unfazed of what’s going on around him.

The cats immediately jump onto the bed, lay themselves around Dean and she couldn’t not take a picture of them together like this even if Dean’s face is bruised. 

There’s a band aid that holds his skin together above his eyebrow instead of stitches, the bruise on his cheek already starts to turn green. His lips are swollen and it hurts her to see him like this. It physically hurts her heart.

She wonders how long it’ll take Linda to piece two and two together on Ketch’s whereabouts. How long it’ll be for Linda to knock down the door and arrest her and Dean. Wonders if Linda even knows that Ketch was trying to forgo her commands and contact Y/N directly just because he wants to play a fucking hero. Because honestly, she can’t imagine that the thing Ketch pulled off was in Linda’s interest. Not when Y/N’s so close to the finish line.

 *

 After about two hours, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. She opens up to Cas and wave of something that smells like bleach hit her. It seems like they were trying to make it better by spraying some flower scents around the living room, which actually might have made it even worse. She’s going to have to open the windows for hours to get the smell out.

“We’re done.” Cas says, and steals a glimpse of Dean in bed. “How is he?”

“Sleeping.” She answers. 

“That’s good. He should sleep. The meeting today went well. Just tell him that? Okay?”

She smiles, “I will.” 

“If there’s anything, you know…” 

“I know. Thank you, Cas.”

“Anytime.”

She leaves the door open, but goes back to bed, picks her pencil and her notebook back up. She has to turn on the bedside lamp because it’s getting dark outside, the room lights up in a warm soft glow.

It’s an hour later when Dean opens his eyes. He squints at her. 

“Is this heaven? Am I in heaven?” He mumbles, his lips purse into a smile. 

Y/N replicates his smile, “No, sorry, you’re still stuck with me.”

He starts to laugh but then he flinches in pain. “Baby, no jokes, okay? My body can’t take it.”

“Shit, yeah,” She’s crawling over to his side on all fours. “‘M sorry.”

“Come on,” He says, pats the side of his bed and she goes in, lays her head on his arm. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles. That’s so typical Dean. He’s the one who’s hurt but he asks her how she’s feeling. She does not deserve him. “Tired. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been beaten.” 

She tilts her head, kisses him on his good cheek. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know that he would come and hurt you.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

She wants to tell him that it is. 

Dean didn’t say more though, didn’t ask her why Ketch holds a grudge against Dean. Why she shot him. Because that’s also Dean. He doesn’t ask questions to answer that he doesn’t need to know. Answer that won’t change his decision. Answers that aren’t relevant on how he lives his life.

She can also guess that he might know. Ketch mentioned the MI6. Dean’s no fucking idiot.

“Can I ask you something?” He says after a while and her heart picks up pace.

That’s it, she thinks. Finally he’s going to ask her and she’s going to tell him the truth and everything will be over. 

“Anything.” She says, because it’s true. At this point it’s all or nothing. She doesn’t want to lie to him any more.

“Why are the cats in our bed?”

CH31

[cryhardanddanceharder]

Happy holidays Abby @moonlightandromache I’m your andromaquynh secret santa and this next one shot is my gift for you. I tried mixing what i know you like, soulmate and mermaid combo. I hope you like it ♥

Also, thank you @lilolilyr for being my beta in this and helping me with my english ☺ And thank you @thirst-teenth for organizing this!

_____

An ocean between our love (it won’t keep us apart)

All mermaids, mermen and tritons are immortal and have a soulmate. 

Yes, mer folks are not just a myth, they are real. Quynh knows this because she is a mermaid. 

Since she was little she had been hearing stories about soulmates. How you would feel your soulmate’s injuries like they were your own and how you would dream of each other.

She started dreaming of her soulmate when she was fourteen years old. 

But, the thing about her soulmate it’s that she’s different. She is a human, a mortal. Because of this, many of the other mers often made fun of her. How would it be possible for a human and a mermaid to be together? 

“How does it feel to know your soulmate?” She asks her friends.

“It’s the best thing that can happen to you” Nicky tells her honestly. 

“There’s no one who could understand you or love you more, you just connect” Joe says, looking at Nicky with heart eyes.

“Look at us” Nicky says proudly. “We came for families who hated each other, and still our love prevailed” He explains.

She doesn’t need the explanation though, she had heard the story too many times. They are lucky, they’ve been together since forever. Just like Nile, Dizzy and Jay. 

All her friends had met their soulmate already and that kinda hurts. She knows it’s probably impossible for her to ever meet her own soulmate. She likes dreaming about her, but feeling her injuries not so much, because it worries her. Her soulmate is a warrior, so she always has something in her body that it’s hurting. And she could use a lot of words to describe her, like beautiful, brave and kind. And also loyal, smart and strong.

“You know there’s the story of this merman who had a human soulmate just like you?” Nile asks her, bringing her attention back to the present.

“Yes, I think I heard about him, but I thought it was just a legend” She answers thoughtfully. 

“Well Jay knows him, I can take you to meet him so you can talk and share your feelings” Nile suggests. 

“That would be great” She accepts. 

No one had ever told her that Booker’s story was real. So, she’s excited that she is going to meet him. Maybe he could tell her how to find her soulmate. Her family never helped her with that topic, not since she told them that her soulmate is a human. It’s like most mers think that she must be cursed or something similar, because isn’t a mermaid like them.

Booker it’s bitter and he is drunk. But he let’s her speak and he tells her stories about Lykon, his soulmate. 

“So you never met him?” She asks, feeling heartbroken.

“No, he died many years ago” Booker answers sadly. 

“But, you only have one soulmate in your life” She expresses her agony.

“I know” He nods.

“How do you keep living without it?” She asks, her voice breaking.

“I’m not sure I do” He says, using his cup to toast for him.

After that conversation, Quynh is left feeling entirely wrecked. How is she supposed to live her immortal life knowing her soulmate is going to die someday? 

She tries to hang on to the dreams of her soulmate, to pay attention to where she is so she can look for her. But she’s always on land and there’s never a beach near her.

And then, the day she has been fearing comes. Her soulmate dies. She’s been betrayed by her own people and they killed her with spears in battle.

“Are you okay?” Joe asks her, very worried because she has been in agony, shouting and sobbing for long minutes.

“My soulmate, she died” She answers with tears in her eyes, unable to say anything else.

She starts feeling the heartbreak of reality hit her as the worst pain she ever felt in her life.

She’s devastated and suddenly breaks down crying in full force.

Joe hugs her and holds her in his arms until she falls asleep. 

But, something she hasn’t been expecting happens. Her soulmate comes back to life. Her injuries are gone and there’s no more pain. At first she thinks she might be imagining it, but then she dreams about her again. And she is alright, she is alive and she is as strong as ever. 

After that, Quynh dares to hope again. If her soulmate is immortal, then maybe they can finally meet someday. And now the injuries are temporary. She only feels pain for a short time. Still, feeling her die is the most painful thing she has ever felt... and her soulmate dies a lot of times.

Quynh starts traveling all the oceans, trying to find her. Joe, Nicky, Nile, Dizzy, Jay and Booker decide to go with her, to help her in her search. 

But years and years keep passing by, and they still never find her soulmate. 

All she learns in her search is that her soulmate's name is Andromache and she is the best human warrior that has ever existed. Even mer folks start telling stories about her at some point, because they like telling human stories. All the stories about Andromache are about her battles, about how she’s special because of her immortality, how she’s always fighting for what she thinks it’s right and trying to help people. 

She wonders if her soulmate dreams of her too, if she ever thinks of her and if she ever tries looking for her.

But hundreds of years keep passing and they never meet each other. All Quynh feels is emptiness and loneliness. Yes, her soulmate is alive and is immortal, but she’s still human and they don’t have any chance of being together. And that hurts.

She starts feeling that her family is right. To have a human soulmate it’s a curse. 

So, she decides to give up. She stops the search. 

And then, suddenly, another unexpected thing happens that changes everything once again. Her soulmate is drowning. And not just for once, it’s constantly. Quynh is in permanent agony for her. Feeling her dying all the time is exhausting. How is it possible? And then, she dreams of her again and she finally understands. Andromache is trapped in an iron coffin at the bottom of the ocean. How the hell did that happen? 

“Quynh, we heard the stories about Andromache” Nicky informs her.

“What stories?” She requests to know. 

“The new ones” Nicky answers.

“How can there be new stories when she’s constantly drowning?” She asks, confused.

“Because they are about that” Joe replies. “Apparently she was in England, saving women from witch hunts. Finally the people from church trapped her and sentenced her to die, so they hanged her.” He explains calmly.

“Because she couldn’t die, they took it as proof of her being a witch” Nicky intervenes, feeling that it’s an important fact.

“Yes” Joe agrees with him. “So, they locked her in an iron coffin and threw her to the sea” He ends the tale. 

“I need to find her. She’s drowning and suffering constantly, I can’t take it” She expresses her feelings, she always feels safe doing so with them.

“We should start with the North Sea, the Celtic Sea and the Atlantic Ocean; those are the ones that surround England” Nicky suggests.

So, that’s what they do. They travel those seas, looking for her. 

It takes them almost one hundred years, but they finally do. They find the iron coffin in a part of the Norway Sea and all she can feel is relief. They prey open the coffin and, finally, Andromache is free and right in front of Quynh. 

When she comes alive she looks scared and ready to fight. She starts hitting them until she drowns again. 

Quynh grabs her and takes her to the superface. In the time it takes her to get her to superface, Andromache drowns three more times. But those times she doesn’t fight her. It is as she recognises Quynh, her presence helping her to relax even when she dies again.

“Hey” She greets her, once their faces are above the ocean and the other has revived.

“You’re the mermaid of my dreams” Andromache says, looking at her with an astonished expression. 

 “I am” She agrees. “My name is Quynh” She introduces herself.

“I thought mermaids were a myth” Andromache says, still staring at her, like she can’t believe she’s real.

“I thought immortal humans were a myth, too” She bites back and Andromache laughs. Damm, her laugh sounds so beautiful.

“Touche” Andromache accepts. “I’m Andromache the Scythian” She finally introduces herself. 

“I know” Quynh nods with a knowing smile. 

Andromache suddenly starts coughing and spitting salt water from her mouth, and that scares her. Quyn realises in that moment that she should have tried giving her mouth to mouth breathing like she heard in some tales about humans, instead of letting her die.

“I should have given you mouth-to-mouth breathing” She says, thinking out loud.

“What?” Andromache asks, confused.

“While I brought you to the superface, I should have given you mouth-to-mouth instead of letting you drown” She explains, in an apologizing way. 

“Don’t worry about it” Andromache dismisses it, like it is not a big deal. “Don’t feel bad, it was just what? Three more deaths? You did save after all” She expresses her opinion. 

It seems like her humor is a little dark and Quynh finds it endearing.

Andromache coughs again. She probably needs clean water and food after spending so many years without having anything. 

“Come on, you must be exhausted, I’ll take you to shore” She proposes. 

So Andromache climbs on her back and Quynh starts to swims. Quynh does it carefully, making sure to never dive deep so Andromache can keep breathing. It’s a hard and tiring task, it takes her a long time of the day, but the effort it’s worth it if it means her soulmate is safe. She takes her to the nearest desert beach. She leaves her on the shore, and then gets ready to go back to the depth of the ocean.

“Wait, please wait” Andromache calls her, when she realizes the other is starting to move away.

“What?” Quynh asks.

“Can I see you again?” Andromache requests.

“Why?” She asks, surprised about the request.

“Well, we dream about each other. I think that must mean something” Andromache tries to explain her point of view. “Don’t you want to figure it out?” She asks.

“Are you sure you want to see me again? Aren’t you scared of mermaids? l thought humans tell stories about us hypnotizing people with our singing and drowning them” She says, a little unsure about the situation.

“That’s sirens, not mermaids” Andromache corrects her. “What about you? Aren’t you scared of me? I’m the eternal warrior. There was a time I even was worshiped as god, you know?” She questions, in some kind of teasing way. 

“No, I’m not scared” She denies.

“Then prove it” Andromache challenges her.

“Fine, we can try” She accepts.

So they try…

Andromache builds herself a house on the beach. They see each other on every sunrise and every sunset. The rest of the day they continue with their normal lives. 

Quynh hadn’t thought it was possible to love Andromache more than she already did… But she starts realising she was very wrong. Spending time with Andromache is the best thing that has ever happened to her and she starts falling deeply in love with her, certain that she would love her even if they hadn’t been soulmates. She loves her with every fiber of her being, in every possible way.

Every moment they spend together is magical.

Like when Andromache teached her arching. 

“What is this?” She asks, looking at the objects the other is holding in her hands with wonder. She knows them, she has seen humans using them before, but she doesn’t remember their names.

“Bows and arrows, I'm going to teach you archery” Andromache answers her.

“You are?” She asks, surprised.

“Well you said you didn’t find sword fighting that much fun, so i thought maybe you would like to try something new” Andromache explains her idea.

“How am I supposed to do this when I can’t stand up like you?” She requests to know, still unsure about the idea.

“You do it sitting down” Andromache says with confidence.

Andromache spends all morning teaching her, until she can hit a target. She has to admit it was really fun. And some days, after practicing a lot, she learns to love it.

Another magical but unexpected moment, it’s when Andromache asks her to cut her hair.

“Are you sure?” Quynh asks, picking up the scissors nervously.

“I am” Andromache nods.

“Why do you want to cut it?” She needs to know, because she doesn’t want to do something the other may regret later.

“I’m tired of it, it’s so heavy and impractical. I want a change” Andromache expresses the reason for her choice.

“Fine” She finally  agrees. “But if you don’t like it, I won't take complains” She warns.

Quynh cuts her hair in the way the other has requests. When she finishes she’s astounded by how the hairstyle looks on the other. She’s so breathtakingly beautiful. She encourages herself and plays with it a little.

Another wonderful moment is their first kiss.

“I have a gift for you” Andromache tells her, with a smile on her face.

“What? Why?” Quynh asks, confused.

“Because you said that today it’s your birthday” Andromache reminds her.

“Ohhh…” She has forgotten humans have the habit of giving each other presents for birthdays, when for mer folks the habit was the other way around.

“Close your eyes” Andromache requests. “Do you trust me?” She asks, after they spend a long minute staring at each other.

“Yes” She nods.

“Then close your eyes” She repeats.

Quynh closes her eyes and waits for her present. Suddenly she can feel Andromache very near, invading her personal space. She takes a moment caressing her shoulders, her neck and her cheeks. And then, she is kissing her. 

Kissing Andromache is incredibly magnificent. It’s as if their lips were made just to be kissed by each other. It’s like they already know their moves, their tastes and what they like. It’s like breathing air for the first time. 

Another splendid moment is when she calls her “Andy” for the first time. 

“What?” She asks a little annoyed, the other has been staring at her for like a whole minute and never continues the conversation they were having.

“You called me Andy” Andromache finally says.

“Ohh, it’s just a nickname, like in a affectionate way” She tries to explain. “If you don’t like it…” 

“No” Andromache interrupts her very quickly. “I like it, you can call me Andy wherever you want” She assures. 

So she starts calling her Andy after that.

And so time goes by. And before they know they have spent decade after decade doing this, being together and apart in this way.

But, of course one day it has to come to an end. She should have known, she should have been ready… After all, how could it be possible for a human and a mermaid to be together forever?

“Have you ever heard of a goddess called Atargatis?” Andromache asks her.

“Her name seems familiar, but I don’t think so” Quynh denies. 

“Well, legends say she was the first mermaid. She’s a goddess of love and female fertility. They said that there’s an oasis in the middle of Sham desert where there is a temple for her and whoever is brave enough to sacrifice themselves in the search of it, the goddess would grant them a wish” Andromache relates her the story.

“I thought you didn’t believe in gods or goddesses” She says, surprised about the type of conversation. 

“Well maybe it’s time I do, so we can be together” Andromache tells her. 

“What do you mean?” She asks, confused.

“I can go there, I can sacrifice myself in the search because I’m immortal, I can wish for us to have a way to be really together” Andromache explains to her what she has been planning.

“I don’t think that’s smart, for you to go there alone” She expresses her disapproval. “What if you got hurt, or the goddess wants to remove your immortality as payment or is just not real?” She asks, not wanting to get excited about what it could mean. 

“But what if it’s real? Don’t you think we are worth trying it?” Andromache questions her. 

“I don’t know” She says sadly. “Don’t you think we are already good as we are?” She asks, fearing the negative possibility. 

“We are good” Andromache assures her. “But we could be better, we could be together forever, every time of the day, with nothing keeping us apart” She insists.

“I…” She doesn’t know what to say. The idea of not seeing Andromache for the time it takes her to do the quest hurts too much. “Andy don’t go” She asks.

“I have to. You may not believe our love is strong enough to survive this, but i do.” Andromache argues, very stubbornly. “Once I finish the quest, I’ll come back here.” She promises her.

Andromache gives her a kiss and then she’s gone.

Quynh is scared she won’t ever see her again and doesn’t know what to do without her. But at sunrise, Andromache is there, at the beach, once again.

“I thought you had left” Quynh tells her.

“I packed my things, but I wanted to say goodbye first” Andromache explains to her.

“Do you really have to go?” She asks, sadly.

“I do, this may be our only chance” Andromache answers. “I need you to trust me” She requests. 

“I do trust you” She assures her. “But, I don’t want to be apart from you” She expresses what troubles her.

“I don’t want to be apart from you either, that’s why I have to do this” Andromache insists, believing her decision is the best option they have. “I’m gonna be back as quick as I can” She promises her. 

Andromache gives her a long kiss goodbye. One that tastes like salt because of their tears. Is bittersweet and leaves her wanting more, but she lets her go.

All Quynh can do is wait. She waits and goes to their beach on every sunrise and every sunset, waiting for Andromache to come back.

While she waits she realises she’s scared. She fears Andy would find a mortal who would love her in all the ways she can’t. She fears Andy would die a lot of times and would suffer alone. She fears Andy could lose her immortality. 

Another thought creeping into her mind is that Andy might not really accept her the way she is and will try to take away her mermaid form... she knows that Andy might want to join her in the sea instead, and she doesn’t believe that her love would change her without asking her first, but she can’t silence the thoughts entirely.

She dreams of her and with every dream her fears turn off a little. Andy is really strong and she is trying to do this for them.

She dies five times in the desert. But like she sayed, it doesn’t totally matter. Not when she comes back to life again every time. 

It takes a year… And then, finally, Andy is back, at sunset time. She jumps directly into the sea and greets her with a passionate kiss. 

“Hey” Andromache says quietly, pressing soft kisses to her neck.

“Hey” Quynh says back. 

“I love you Quynh” Andromache confesses, looking right to her eyes. 

Andy loves her and knowing it makes her the happiest she’s ever been in her long life.

“I love you too Andy” She says, exploding with happiness and love. “I’m glad you are back” She admits, feeling relieved to be in the arms of the other woman again.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” Andromache asks, kinda teasing her.

“Maybe a little” She answers honestly. “So? How did the quest go?” She finally asks the important topic. 

“Well, I found the oasis, and the goddess conceived my wish” Andromache answers her, looking her intensely in her eyes. “You know why?” She asks.

“Because you gave your life founding the oasis” She answers, remembering the tale Andy had told her before going on the quest.

“Yes” Andromache nods. “And because apparently we are soulmates” She adds, looking at her intensely as she was trying to read her.

“Ah, that...” She trails off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Andromache asks curiously, without judging her. 

“Because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to love me just because we’re soulmates” She answers genuinely, thinking it sounds a little silly now that she’s saying it out loud. 

“It would be impossible for me not to love you” Andromache tells her with so much confidence, that she believes her in every part of herself.

“So… how does the wish work?” She asks, bringing the conversation to that topic because she doesn’t want to get emotional.

Andromache looks at her with a tender smile, and then removes the pendant she’s wearing around her neck and gives it to her. 

“What does it mean?” She asks confused, checking the pendant.

“It’s a magic amulet, it’s made from cintamani and it grants a wish to whoever wears it” Andromache explains to her.

“What the wish would be?” She requests to know, still a little unsure.

“Well, I think it obvious, for the one of us who is wearing it at the moment to have legs on land and mermaid form on sea” Andromache tells her with confidence.

“You don’t want me to stop being a mermaid?” She asks, really surprised.

“No, of courte not, I love everything about you” Andromache assures her. “I just want the chance for us to be together” She adds, caressing her cheeks. 

Quynh kisses her. She hasn't thought it would be possible for her to love this woman more, but every time she thinks that, she is quickly proven wrong. It feels like everything Andromache does, it just makes her love her more and more. 

She feels so happy. She doesn’t know how to contain all those feelings in her body, so she just shows them. She kisses and caresses every part of Andromache’s body. 

When she feels satisfied, she puts the pendant around her neck. Then she grabs Andromache’s hand, so they can get out of the water. 

The first time she feels her legs is very strange, and she would have fallen if it wasn't for Andromache’s grip on her. 

Andromache teaches her to walk, takes her to all her favorite places and shows her everything about the mortal human world. Then they travel around the world together, meeting new places and sharing their love.

In return, Quynh shows her all the magical places and fantastic treasures the ocean hides in its depths. She teaches her to swim in her mermaid form and do different pirouettes. Also she introduces her to her friends and family.

Andromache has been right. To be together this way is even more wonderful. Thanks to the amulet Quynh can have human form at land and Andromache can have mermaid form at sea. This way they can share both of their worlds and always be together. 

So, yes. Maybe it is hard for someone like her, a mermaid, to have a human soulmate. But it is not impossible. They had found their way to be together and now they will be for all their eternal lives.

You can read it in ao3 too: here

[feynavaley]

On France’s melodrama, I think France displays over the top emotions to avoid being serious. My own personal view is that France was deeply hurt by Jeanne’s death and pretends to be emotionally uninvolved by playing the fool. In reality he feels very strongly for others, but hides it using drama as a coping mechanism. But hey, just my personal headcanon.

Thanks for the message! 

To be honest, I have to say that I half-agree and half-disagree with this.

First of all, I am unsure of where you got the impression France pretends to be ‘emotionally uninvolved’ from because reading the manga, I was led to think the opposite?

Maybe France never uttered out loud the words ‘I care about you,’ but I think there were several instances where he showed quite clearly how much he cared for other people.

Source: The Story of the Statue of Liberty (hetarchive.net)

Source: Today’s Hetalia Preparation Course [5/26] [x]

Source: Hetalia Vol.5 – Which Country is That? [x]

Source: Hetalia World Stars – Chapter 220 [x]

He was even friendly with Switzerland, one who isn’t so easy to be friendly with.

Source: 2011 Christmas Event (hetarchive.net)

This isn’t something that came up recently, either. From the very start, France seemed to be always pretty open about how much he cared for other people. Even with England, in spite of their rivalry and constant bickering, France was quick to show his concern if something was wrong.

Source: England Caught a Cold (hetarchive.net)

I also wouldn’t say that France’s melodramatic reactions are staged or only a mask, to be honest. He behaves like that constantly, which gave me more the impression that being over-dramatic is his nature rather than a farce to hide something.

As for his relationship with Jeanne… this is another complex matter. In truth, his being so heartbroken over her is mostly a fanon invention. In fact, canon actually says a very different thing.

Source: Big Brother France and That Kid (hetarchive.net)

This is a very old panel, however. I admit it may have been retconned later, just like other old material. The other time France mentions Jeanne does make this look likely.

Source: Hetalia Vol.4 – À bientôt [x]

France does seem to recall Jeanne with extreme fondness and the relief he expresses at her ‘reincarnation’ living a happy life does seem to imply some underlying grief about what happened.

For France to be truly so heartbroken, though… here, I have to admit I can’t fully buy it. Nations aren’t human. They are born to live an immortal life so it follows that they’re also mentally equipped to deal with that. I do believe they should be mentally more resilient than humans, more suited to withstand tragedies. This point was actually briefly addressed much later on in the series.

Source: Hetalia World Stars – Chapter 337 [x]

With personifications being so prone to forgetting details, the memories and pain they have experienced will eventually fade over time. Jeanne might be an exception, of course – this isn’t explicitly denied. Yet, I personally don’t see why she has to be. I’m not denying that France would have been deeply touched by her death, I just think that if it happened with her, it should have happened on other occasions as well. In conclusion, I would definitely say that Jeanne was an important person for France and he still carries her close to his heart, but not that it led him to close himself off. (Moreover, as I have already mentioned, I don’t think he’s distancing himself from other people in the first place, either.)

That said, I do agree with you that there’s much more to France than what meets the eye. The fact Himaruya used him basically any time he had to drive home a more philosophical point on what being an immortal personification means speaks volumes, in my opinion. Under his flamboyant exterior, France hides a sensitive and philosophical soul as well as a profound awareness of his own nature compared to the nature of humans (something not every personification seems to have).

I also agree with you on the fact that some of France’s behaviour hints at him feeling lonely. Going through the manga, most of the time he isn’t bragging about something France is trying to get closer to somebody. He seems almost desperate for some sort of intimacy, at times. I do think that this inability to be alone can easily be a product of a deep sense of loneliness and some hidden insecurities. I just don’t agree with the cause or that they are as crippling as you seemed to say they were, though.

That said, this is just my opinion, you don’t have to agree with me! And even when I brought up canon material, you might have read it in a different way and it’s also completely valid. Please do clarify if you think I’ve missed something!

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Oh Disneyland Paris sounds fun yeah! Were you and your roommate already close then? I went to Walt Disney's world with my aunt and cousin when I was like 11 but it would've been way more fun if I could've taken my best friend with me for sure. Maybe we can go to the one in Paris now that she lives just 3h away from me! Oh I see, sounds like LA was really fun for you yeah! your roommate didn't mind third wheeling tho? Hahaha

Yeah Canada is beautiful but what I liked about it the most was the massive improvement in quality of life I had compared to where I was living before and just being able to be who I am and people accepting me for it. Not being worried about violence 24/7 felt pretty fucking great too. So yeah I highly recommend living there if you ever get a chance. But I am loving Portugal so far, people are a bit more judgemental here tho but I like that it's easier to travel to a lot of countries I've always wanted to go to. Everywhere you go there are pros and cons tho so sorting out priorities is key. But Toronto is my favourite of all the places I've been, before living there for a year I had already been two times!

Jesus 50 states, sometimes I forget how big the US is. And you can totally do it if you plan it out! After watching Bly Manor tho I really want to go to Vermont especially during autumn season looks really pretty! There's this fic I love (only the sun by prestonarchives) where Dani and Jamie go on a road trip from Vermont to Maine and I did their entire journey on Google maps street view bc I was so obsessed with this one chapter fanfic I had to immerse myself entirety in it hahaha. So now I want to go there irl. Here's the link if you haven't read it before!

https://bit.ly/3BLy4WR

Omg I totally remember reading that on CBML and being a bit confused bc I was like why would she think you can't see the moon from the great wall of China HAHAHA but I thought it was really funny and endearing yeah it's even funnier now that I know you said it irl haha.

Oh so ENFP-T means extraverted, intuitive, feeling and prospecting personality with a bit of turbulence. Which just means you're curious, perceptive, enthusiastic, an excellent communicator, festive and good-natured. On the other hand you can be disorganized, unfucosed, a people pleaser, overcommitted, too optimistic and restless.

I wonder what Jamies and Danis mbti are as well as their zodiac signs 🤔 I think Jamie might be an ISTP-A bc she's definitely an introvert, very practical, stubborn, assertive, layed back and energetic at the same time. And Dani is either an ENFP-T like you or an ESFJ-T with the whole selfless thing going on.

AE already made it canon that Jamie's an aries (and it makes sense) but I can't figure Dani out. I've thought about her being a leo ♌ bc she's generous, passionate, warm-harted and dominant in her own way and THE HAIR haha. But she's got some pisces ♓ vibes going on too...idk. aaand I'm back at it again with the astrology signs haha.

To be fair your recent drunken exp it was dark and at least you didn't think the road sign was a bear or something (don't know what kind of wild animals you've got over there) that you wrestled with and ended up in a ditch and your best friend let you believe that happened for 3 years up until recently haha. 😂 but yeah some things happen for a reason, having life threatening health issues doesn't sound great tho, but I guess it's a good thing it stops you from drinking too much and making dumb decisions. And hey maybe I secretly want that to happen again idk maybe moving countries is not exciting enough, I have to go out and make a complete drunken fool out of myself in a completely foreign place hahaha. I guess that did kinda happen last month when my best friend came to visit me from Spain and we got drunk on wine, I got lost on the way back home and it was way past curfew. 🤔 shit I'm 29 will I ever learn...

Episode 9 is 😢😍🥰😰😭🤬☠️ just the worst roller-coaster I didn't even know I was on. Haha I was more pissed off than heartbroken the first time I watched it ngl.

Well then maybe the way you do accents is friendly and funny so people can't really get mad at you haha. Like Dani! Oh so that's called a Geordie accent! I see, it's really really cool. AE said Jamie is from Lancashire but that's a whole county isn't it? Idk if there's a specific accent to this region. Knowing you speak kinda like Jamie is something else tho, I think if anyone who spoke like her ever talked to me irl I wouldn't be able to pay attention to what they were saying 😂 just the accent haha.

Oh so you already have 4k something words for it nice. I'm kinda starting to feel an obsession with this medieval AU growing in me, I made a Pinterest board just for it ngl hahaha but I'm still resisting creating anything for it, I did a face study yesterday for Dani and Jamie to see if I finally pick up the idea and just do it but my brain was still like "I don't want to do this rn" and was just being a little bitch about it so I'll just let it cook for longer see if we can reach an agreement eventually (if ever) haha.

Glad to hear you had a good weekend! Even if it left you feeling exhausted in the end. And yeah it makes sense for you to say you don't have favourites haha! Have a great week Colour, take care! 👋✨

Yeah me and my roommate have been friends since we were like 14 so when we went to Disney Land we asked if we could be roomed together because we've been best friends for that long now... been best friends since school and now we live together. She's seen me at my best, my worst, has seen me in all my stages in life and has been there for a lot of the rough stuff I've been through and I've been there for all the stuff she's been through!! Nah she didn't mind at all we had some moments where me and my ex would just go and be a couple and have dates but my ex didn't want me travelling that far alone so invited my roommate too because she didn't like the thought of me flying 11hours alone or being in airports alone so my roommate came with me and we had a great time Awwh good I'm glad it was such a nice place and that you didn't worry about violence all the time but I'm so sorry you ever had to worry about that anyway that can't be easy. I would honestly love to live in Canada I really hope I get chance one day... I'm glad you're loving Portugal but sorry people are judgemental there but I am glad it's easy for you to travel around to other places... oh yeah every place has it's pros and cons I mean England has some pros but it sure has a lot of cons too so I know all about that Yeah America is SO big but I do want to get around all 50 states at some point and I am stubborn enough and determined enough to make it happen eventually even if I don't get around them all until I'm like 70 I'll make it happen haha!! No I haven't read that fic but it sounds amazing so I'll definitely check it out thank you for sending me the link Yeah... that really happened to me and it was just a dumb moment where I had this momentary lapse of knowledge in my brain and now I look back at that question and I'm just like... "you idiot" and this is why people are shocked when I get questions in quizzes right because I have said some really dumb stuff but I'm glad people found it funny and endearing... and I'm glad it makes it better to know I really said that haha Oooo I didn't know that, I like that and I think it's definitely fitting for me!! I think from what you've said about what ENFP-T means Dani could easily be that too and I don't know anything about the other one but I will take your word for it matching Dani because you know way more about this stuff than I do. I have no idea for Jamie though. And with zodiac signs I love that Amelia looked at Jamie and thought she was an Aries, as for Dani I have NO idea what her zodiac would be... in CBML she's a Leo but in MoU with what I have planned for her birthday she'd be a virgo but I don't know anything about zodiacs... all I know is all the pieces I've ever met have been the opposite of what Dani is so maybe that has something to do with their whole charts but I know a lot of other people always make her a Pieces and I trust what other people say about zodiacs more than what I know about them because I really know NOTHING about them haha Nah I knew it was a road sign because of how heavy and hard it was- nah we have no bears where I live... I don't think we have many dangerous animals where I live... got a couple of badgers that can be pretty aggressive but that's about it we don't have much that is scary here or at least not in the little part of England I live. Having life threatening health issues has been hard and since having my spleen removed in January (that was the surgery I needed to try and fix the issue I had) things are even harder now because I have to take antibiotics for the rest of my life to stop me getting any infections because if I ever get a chest infection now or a really bad cold it can be really dangerous but I take it all in my stride and not drinking is just a way to make sure the antibiotics actually work properly and to make sure nothing happens to me... and like you said, means I don't do anything dumb too... haha drunken stories are the best I have been lost a few times when I've been drunk... and I don't think you do learn, I have siblings that are

like 40 and still do dumb shit... I know at 27 I am still doing dumb shit too I don't think I'll ever learn haha 😂 Its such an emotional roller coaster and honestly I was just devastated the first time I watched it... no TV show or movie has ever made me cry the way Bly Manor did when I first saw it and it still makes me cry now. I can cry just thinking about that last episode. I definitely mean it in a friendly way so I hope it comes across like that. Yeah the accent in Billy Elliot is a Geordie accent and its my favourite accent there are other accents around the north that are called different things. Yeah Lancashire is a county and again in Lancashire there are loads of different accents I can't really pinpoint Jamie's down to a city I just know it's Northern. I'm from Yorkshire but don't have a strong Yorkshire accent I just have a Northern accent, like people never believe I'm from the place I'm from because I don't sound like I am but you can definitely tell I'm northern... honestly there are so many accents in England... you can drive for two hours in any direction in England and the accent will change like two times at least it's insane... see a lot of people say that but I am not a HUGE fan of the northern accent and I think it's because I grew up there. I much prefer Dani's accent to Jamie's but like I said to me, Jamie just talks normal there is no accent really haha Yeah 4k words for it but it's all jumbled up it's not like a chronological story yet it's just all over the place haha but I hope I can get it all structured properly soon!! Awwh good I'm glad you're already interested in this medieval AU!! That makes sense you're resisting creating for it but I think it's so cool you did a face study for Dani and Jamie even if you didn't wanna finish it I think letting things cook for a while is always a good idea if you're not in the right headspace right away I had such a good weekend but I am so tired and today I had a busy day too celebrating my roommate's boyfriend's birthday so I've had so many days that have been so busy and right now I am just really to sleep haha!! Yeah definitely don't have favourites but I have spent more time with one of my nieces than the others simply because I always look after her if her mum and dad are working and I'm not... like until I start this new job I am looking after her for an hour every day after school while she waits for her mum and dad to finish work but I don't have favourites haha!! Thank you so much I hope you had a great weekend and that you have a great week too!!

[cilly-murphy]

Hi there, I’m a little bit at a loss for words so bear with me if you will, for I will not be eloquent, but I am once again the first-time-watching-Merlin-thanks-to-your-gifs-anon and I just wanted to let you know that I just finished the series tonight. I am just. Beyond words. It was so painful and terrible and perfect and I don’t mean to be overly dramatic but I feel changed somehow? I have many emotions and opinions and takes and I will not bore you with them, except for just one, because all along I was so terrified for the magic reveal that still hadn’t come yet (I thought it would come in season 4 at the latest wtf) and I knew my fear was definitely mostly because I was projecting my own coming out onto it and that went rather terrible when I had it and I was so scared because I wanted arthur to forgive Merlin so badly because I didn’t have that myself yknow? and then it came and at first I sobbed with grief and then with love and just everything and it was such catharsis and just... it felt so real to me, those last moments between them and how they could never truly hate each other, how they would always change for each other even in the hardest things and also how it can really feel when you believe in someone being such a good person but you have to put a lot of hard work in to make them understand that you’re not a monster yknow. And how scary that is and how hard, and how you’re never sure if you’ll be rewarded for it, even with acceptance. I have so much to say about this show and I will to many people but don’t worry, I won’t bother you with it, but I just really needed this show right now at this point in my life and I am heartbroken in the best way possible right now. Very very grateful. Very very sobbing, too. Sorry for the rant. Also I saw your response to my last ask and I agree with you so much on not wanting some perfect thing that won’t even stay with you!

Oh anon 😔😔😔 you made me kinda cry 😢i have gotten invested to your watch since you told me about it some time ago... i was thinking about how the ending would be for you. you are not dramatic at all to say this show has changed you. it was happened me too, and a huge amount of people. you can never escape bbc merlin, it will always be with you.This show resonated with so many people’s coming out stories and it helped them a lot. I am straight so i have no experience into this, but so many people see magic in this show as an lgbtq+ theme. Which i agree with to be honest.  I’m going to talk to you about my Merlin finale experience, maybe you can relate. It was a very different time for the fandom then, it was 2013. I had started to watch the show in december of 2012 but i didn’t have time to finish before the finale. Also i made this blog then, a tiny 15 year old with feels and shitty photoshop skills. I had watched like one season when the finale dropped. i knew everything that happened. But still, it became my fav show very fast and i made a promise to myself to watch one episode a week and gif it. To make it last you know. So i did. And the fateful day to watch 5x13 came. I knew everything, every single scene from the episode. From gifsets and fanvids and fanfics and all. But it wasn’t the same. It was August, i was alone at the house. I wasn’t ready for this but i knew i had to gif it. And then.... i died. And i’m dead ever since. And this episode mind you was shown on christmas eve. FUCKING CHRISTMAS EVE. As you can imagine, this episode destroyed an entire generation. Merlin was like top show in England then, the ratings were sky rocketing. It pisses me off when people who aren’t educated in that subject, keep saying Merlin was cancelled. MERLIN ENDED. MERLIN WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 5 SEASONS AND THEN IT RUN ITS TRUE COURSE. People are so used to shows being milked these days. It used to be different, shows ended when it mattered. Anyway!  Apart from the pain and the unsaid things and so much more, this ending made the show eternal. This open ending, that we can manipulate however we want with fics and content and never get tired of headcanons and crack and anything that comes into our head is amazing. I will live forever with this pain. It changed me forever, this show changed me forever. Anon you should come to me. I know what you’re going through right now and if you want to just vent or scream or say ANYTHING you want, i’m here. Dm me. I was the person that started this journey for you and i want to be here for you, if you would like me to. The pain will subside as time passes and you will see how amazing the fandom is. I’m glad i introduced you to this show and i’m glad for each person that that is watching it now. It’s truly one of a kind ❤️ 

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: hey hey hey. long time no see. life has been fucking me up the literal asshole. i have so much work to do. dunno when the next chapter will be. it will be at some point though. promise.

Warnings: swears, mentions of sex (nothing frisky tho)

w/c: 3.6k+

Chapter Twenty Two

You hadn’t exactly had high expectations when it came to living in LA. You knew the rumours — the people were superficial, the traffic was horrific, there was a distinct lack of culture — but you had to admit you were still disappointed. Nothing was particularly wrong with the place, but something about it just didn’t suit you. The studio had paid for an incredible apartment for you and it was beautiful but big and echoey, and you rattled around in it on your own. The days were long, and by the time you’d navigated the evening traffic, you got home late at night and had little time of your own. It was a blessing at first, because it kept you occupied enough to be able to forget Ben some of the time. When the thought of him drifted into your head, sitting curled up with Frankie on the sofa and you were hit with a sickening desire to sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, you always had something to concentrate on that would take your mind off it. But after a while those thoughts became more frequent and you resented having to bat them away. What you really wanted was to wallow in them for a while; you wanted to feel the pain and the loss and the heartbreak, to grieve for the life you had lost. You wanted to think about Ben and cry uncontrollably, and wish he was still yours. You needed to process it, and then maybe you could start moving on. That being said, the thought of moving on terrified you, but you were tired of living like a shell of your former self.

It would have been okay if the job was better, if it felt worth it. You wanted so desperately to be vindicated in your choice to go but the work was kind of soul destroying. You were sure the actors were all lovely people, but the production was so big that you had barely spoken to them. You knew you’d been extraordinarily lucky with BoRhap, to have bonded the way you did, but you were still surprised with how little interest the cast took in you — you were effectively a glorified coffee girl. And because your job was mainly with the actors, you didn’t spend all that much time with the other crew members and didn’t bond with them either. Basically, you just felt horrifically lonely, which only reminded you how much you missed Ben.

A few weeks in you started to bond a little with some of the other girls in the crew. They were all junior, with you the most senior of the group, so it felt pretty safe. They were interested to hear about BoRhap, and what it had been like working with Rami and the boys. They seemed so starstruck just hearing you talk about him, you forgot that he was famous; to you he was just a wonderful friend.

“You know, I think he’s gonna win the Oscar,” said Tracy, a very sweet midwestern girl who always seemed like she was just excited to be alive.

“He definitely should, whether he will is another question,” Janie reasoned. She was a little older, and had the most experience but had never wanted to be anything more than a runner — she loved it, and her husband was some big-shot businessman so she didn’t need to worry about the peanuts she got paid.

“Do you reckon you’ll get to go?” asked Laura, an Irish girl and the youngest of the group.

You shook your head a little dejectedly, “No, probably not. I don’t see why they’d invite me.”

“That’s such a bummer! It sounds like you were really close with the guys,” Tracy said, genuinely put out for you.

“I still am. Well, mostly.” The thought of Ben left a bitter taste on your tongue. You hadn’t spoken to him since you got to the States.

Laura leaned in, “That sounds ominous. Go on.”

You sighed, “It’s not that dramatic really, I was dating one of them.”

“Not that dramatic?! That’s huge!” Laura shrieked.

Janie grinned, “Which one?”

“Ben,” you said slowly, tasting the word on your tongue again. It had been so long since you’d said his name out loud. “Ben Hardy, he played the drummer.”

“Oh my god he’s so gorgeous.” You could practically see the hearts in Tracy’s eyes and you chuckled.

“Wait, what do you mean, was?” Janie frowned.

“Be broke up, a few weeks ago actually, when I came to the States. I’m here for three years, we couldn’t commit to a long-distance relationship for that long.”

“Yikes, that sucks.”

Laura asked, “Was it not that serious then?”

“No, I think it was. We loved each other. But we’d done long distance before while I was doing a job, and it sucked. We hated being apart for so long and that was only a few months. I thought it was better just to get a clean break.”

“Ouch, I’m sorry gal.”

“Yeah, it’s rough but I think it’s for the best.” I think.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Janie queried gently.

You nodded, and then coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat.

“Babe, you need to get over him!” Tracy laughed, quickly diffusing the solemn tension that clung to you.

“Ha, easier said than done,” you deadpanned.

“Nah, you just need to get under someone else.”

They set you up with one of Tracy’s friends in the city. The thought of going on a date with anyone other than Ben was a little nauseating, but before you really had a chance to say no it had all been arranged. Anyway, you thought you might as well — at least you could pass the evening with another human being. You never knew, it might be fun. What was there to lose?

You sat on your sofa waiting for your date to knock on the door, trying not to think back to the last time you’d been on a first date. Sure, it had been a little awkward with Ben at first, but it turned into a wonderful evening. But god, if it was awkward with Ben — a guy you knew well, fancied a ridiculous amount, and had already kissed — what kind of hell would it be with a man you didn’t know.

It won’t be that bad, just keep an open mind.

You reminded yourself of what Sav had said when you talked to her about it: there’s no pressure, it’s just a bit of fun.

The knock came at the door. He was a few minutes early. You took a deep breath, smoothed down your hair, and went to open it.

“Hi, you must be Y/N. Good to meet you, I’m Daniel.”

You were a little taken aback, but you smiled. He was better looking than the picture Tracy showed you had suggested. Tall, well dressed in a light blue button up and a jacket, with chocolately brown hair and eyes to match, adorned with flecks of hazel. His features were angular, a little sharp, but he had a kind look about him. You were suitably satisfied.

“Nice to meet you Daniel,” you smiled, hoping your face didn’t betray the internal struggle going on in your head over whether to shake his hand or go in for a hug. He solved that debate though by leaning in and placing a kiss on each cheek.

“That’s the European way, right? Two kisses? I wasn’t sure if it was three,” he joked, brimming with confidence.

“Three is French, we do two in England,” you playfully explained, pulling the door closed behind you. “You’ve clearly done your research.”

He grinned, “I wanted to make a good impression."

He took you out for dinner — classic, easy, not too much chance of something going disastrously wrong — to a Michelin starred restaurant. It was lovely, very upmarket, if a little soulless. You would have preferred somewhere a bit more artisan, somewhere with character and an interesting story behind it, but you weren’t complaining. The food was gorgeous and the company was good. Daniel was funny, he made you laugh often, and was a good conversationalist. Every time you feared you might be running out of things to say he asked you another interesting question to keep you on your toes.

It was fun, but it felt rather like meeting up with a friend. You were missing that elusive spark that people always talk about. But you weren’t going to dismiss him because of that, it wouldn’t always happen straight away. Just because it happened with Ben, didn’t mean it would be the same with the next guy.

Stop thinking about Ben.

“So, let me ask you, Y/N,” Daniel paused to take a sip of his wine, “How’s a beautiful woman like you still single?”

“What’s wrong with being single?” you simpered, mimicking his action and eying him over the rim of your glass.

“Nothing at all! I’m just surprised that no one’s snapped you up yet.”

“If someone’s interested in me doesn’t mean they just get to date me, I have to like them too,” you said as you cocked your eyebrow.

“Hm, yeah but you must get the cream of the crop after you. No one’s take your fancy yet?”

You pushed your mouth into a small smile and said, “I’ve only been in LA for a little over a month.”

“That’s plenty of time.”

For fuck’s sake, why is he pushing this so much? Maybe he could sense your reticence and that had piqued his interest. Maybe he wanted to be sure there was nothing wrong with you. Maybe he was just digging for your baggage.

Well he’s going to fucking get it then.

“I actually broke up with my boyfriend just before I came, so I’m keen not to rush into anything.”

You didn’t tell him how much you loved Ben, still, or that you hadn’t actually wanted to break up with him at all, or that you were still completely heartbroken about it. All Daniel needed to know was that you didn’t want a relationship with him. That this evening would lead to something else.

He nodded slowly and the look he gave you made clear that he understood you perfectly.

It was a perfectly enjoyable evening but by the end you were both very much aware that it wasn’t going anywhere. But still, he wouldn’t allow you to split the bill despite your insistence. He told it was ‘his treat’ and you understood fully that he was inviting you to reward him for his generosity. You ran your tongue over your lip. You didn’t owe him a thing, but you surveyed him none the less. He was a good-looking guy, you enjoyed his company, so when he offered to walk you home you allowed it. And when leaned in to kiss you at your front door, you let him. His lips were smaller than Ben’s, his mouth somehow more intrusive. It felt strange, wrong somehow. But you couldn’t allow yourself to think that Ben was the only man who could kiss you right, so you cast the thought from your mind and let your hands trail up to his neck. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slipped his hands onto your hips. His touch was light, tentative, and you craved the intensity that you used to feel with Ben. One touch of his hand, gripping your hip with strong fingers, veins protruding deliciously, and you’d quiver beneath him. Daniel was... soft. Not in a bad way necessarily, you were sure some people loved that — you loved it when Ben was gentle with you. He’d caress your skin sometimes, leaving tender kisses all over your body; it made you shiver. You sighed at the memory, but felt Daniel smirk into your mouth, thinking it was him.

Stop thinking about Ben, you admonished.

You pulled away and looked at the man before you. His mouth was pulled into a small smile, leaning into you hopefully. He definitely wanted this. With a distinct tendency towards oh fuck it, you asked, “Would you like to come in?”

He grinned and followed you inside.

You didn’t even offer him a drink; you both knew what was happening. His mouth was on you again, kissing your neck, hands roaming. Green eyes, deep and rich with desire, flashed through your mind. You batted them away but were still surprised to see brown irises staring back at you when you opened your eyes. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly arid.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” he hinted, his voice suddenly dropping an octave in an exaggeratedly sultry tone. He was clearly trying to be sexy but you had to bite your lip to stop yourself laughing, hoping you could pass it off as coy.

You nodded and lead him upstairs. He ripped his shirt off and began to make his way towards you. His hands quickly found your hips, then your bum, and he was behind you, reaching round to unbutton your jeans. His breath was hot on your neck, fanning you uncomfortably. You usually loved when you could feel Ben’s breath on your skin, making you tingle with anticipation; it meant his mouth was close.

Ben.

You almost moaned his name. Your whole body went tense and Daniel felt it instantly. His hands froze, fingers tucked slightly beneath your shirt, grazing your stomach. You fought the urge to slap them away.

I don’t want this.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t want this.”

“Oh,” he faltered, clumsily retracting himself from you. “I’m sorry, I thought you did.”

The guilt tugged at you instantly, but you just didn’t want to sleep with him. You wanted Ben, and some other guy, no matter how attractive or charming, wasn’t going to change that. You ached for him in your soul, the kind of ache that a quick shag wouldn’t soothe.

“So did I, but I changed my mind. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

He was kind about it, he didn’t try to push you, despite the disappointment that was evident on his face. You offered him a drink, which he refused, and said he should get home. Your life became quiet again when he left. It was late, you needed to be up for work in a matter of hours, but your mind was reeling and your heart was racing. You made a cuppa and thought of Ben; the curve of his jaw, the crease of his mouth when he laughed, the glint in his eye when he was up to mischief. You thought of the way he made you smile just with a touch, and the way he always managed to calm you when you were stressed, talking you down or stroking your hair. The more you thought of him, the more you spiralled, crying softly into a pillow. You coughed and spluttered and agonised. You were desperate to call him, to hear his voice.

You cracked, clutching at your phone. Your fingers shook as much as your breathing as you called him, still the first number in your favourites.

“Y/N?”

Relief flooded you, instantly abating the tension in your muscles, soothing you. You released a shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“Hey Ben,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

Ben instantly recognised that you’d been crying and dropped his voice to a gentle, warming tone. “What’s happened, love? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, “I’m fine, I just... I just miss you.”

You could practically hear him running a hand through his hair and you internally groaned, thinking about when you used to lose your fingers in those golden locks.

He sighed, distant through the phone line but in another way too, “I miss you too.”

“I wish you were here, holding me.” You didn’t bother trying to disguise the weakness in your voice or the bubble in your throat.

“I know, baby. It’s okay,” he purred as your crying intensified. “I’m here.”

“No you’re not.”

He fell silent. You knew it wasn’t fair of you to do this to him, you were the one who left.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“It’s okay, don’t—don’t hang up.”

He sounded so desperate it cracked your heart open and spilled the contents into your lap. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“H-how are you? How’s the job going?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that it was increasingly feeling like a huge mistake. “It’s okay. Taking a bit to settle in, it’s very different from what I’ve done before.”

“Are you happy?”

Then came your turn to bite your tongue. You ventured, “I’m fine.”

It stung, lying to him, especially when he could see right through you.

You chit chatted for a bit, telling him about the girls you had begun to make friends with, and he in turn relayed some of his training to you for his new film - you warmed at the thought of him learning parkour, picturing the frown between his eyes as he tried a move again and again until he got it right. You seemed to settle, nuzzling into the cushions and wrapping yourself in a blanket to feel some semblance of his embrace. It barely held a candle to him but with his gentle voice in your ear like the ocean waves on a dusky shore, you could make yourself believe he was with you.

“Uh, I think I should go,” he said far too soon.

“Right, sure.”

“Just... look after yourself, Y/N, okay?”

You hummed a yes.

“Promise me?” he said, his tone taking on a greater gravity.

“I promise, Benny.”

At work the next day you could tell the girls were disappointed that you didn’t have a juicy story to tell them about the previous night’s antics, and all relationship talk went conspicuously quiet after that. You plodded along in your work, without the motivation to go above and beyond for those around you. You felt yourself getting complacent, and resented all the effort you put in that went unnoticed. You hated that the director still didn’t know your name, you hated that the cast hadn’t bothered to say more than two words to you. You hated the eternal sunshine that mocked your misery, and the dumb supermarkets with thousands of kinds of health foods and none of your favourite comfort foods. You hated how lonely you felt, and hated thinking about everything you’d given up to be where you were.

“Well, you could come home darling?”

“I signed a contract, Savvy. Anyway, I can’t just come crawling back.”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I know you’re stubborn but this is next level. I am not going to let you make yourself miserable for three years just because you’re too damn proud to admit you made a mistake.”

You felt small, meek, “I have a job to do, I can’t let everyone down.”

“By the sounds of it they can manage perfectly well without you.”

“Um, ow?”

“Well, they clearly aren’t valuing you the way they should, so as far as I’m concerned, they let you down.” She sighed, clearly worried she had been too hard on you. “You don’t owe them anything love. This is your life.”

“I just... I’m scared.”

Sav’s voice went soft, soft like the soothing tones of a mother. “Of what, babe?”

“I’m scared that Ben will be mad, or resent me for leaving. I’m scared that it’s too late and I’ve already lost the life I had.”

“It’s not too late. I bet he’s miserable without you.”

“God,” you scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re 15.”

She mumbled, “Well if you didn’t act so damn childish about it—”

“Anyway, I went for a reason, you know that. I promised myself I would put my career first!”

“And you did! You tried, you didn’t like it. There’s no shame in that. Now you know and you can come home without regrets. I will not allow you to throw three years of your life away — and the love of your life, for that matter.”

You ventured, voice weak, “What if he’s not?”

“What?”

“What if he’s not the love of my life. What if I go back to him and it falls apart, and I abandoned this job for nothing?”

“How are you even worried about that? Y/N, it’s obvious how much you adore him.”

“Well I thought I adored Matteo and look how that turned out.”

“This is different, Y/N, and you know it.”

“I was infatuated with Matteo-”

“Exactly!” she interrupted, “You were infatuated, it was a glorified crush.”

Ouch. That bit to the bone. “My job won’t up and leave me one day.”

“Nor will Ben! For fuck’s sake, have some faith in him. You love each other.”

You knew she was right — of course you did — but there was a gnawing in your gut that made you falter. Some residue of fear laced you like poison; your head told you to stick to your principles even while your heart bled for Ben. Usually you trusted your gut, which is why you were hesitant: something in the pit of your stomach told you that it wouldn’t be as easy as running right back into his arms.

“I promised myself I’d never choose a man over the job.” It was a weak excuse but you made it all the same, the last hurdle you needed Sav to help you overcome before you booked yourself a one-way flight back to London.

“Darling, it’s not about choosing between a man and the job, it’s this man. It’s Ben. You can’t throw that away.”

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[astralastrid]

USUK/UKUS survey by @americapersonified

Tagged by @hariible so here we go!

In what decade did they officially become involved?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The fics have ruined me. So I'd probably say during or after WWII. Plus that's when the "Special Relationship" was coined.

Who tops? (USUK or UKUS?)

*Looks at the UKUS server I made* idk you tell me

Honestly though Arthur probably has more relationship experience, so he's more confident and willing to take the lead. Alfred is actually secretly shy and modest about this stuff! (I mean, I do think we Americans are more conservative and modest when it comes to romance?) Plus like, Alfred finally feels like he can trust someone and let them take care of him, that he's loved when the whole world mocks him... Whoops got a little angsty there

Was either of them a virgin before their first hookup?

It's time for me to unveil my demi!America headcanon that's just me projecting aw yeah

Alfred is. He actually thought he was ace before he met Arthur because he was never interested in that kind of stuff, preferring to cuddle instead. But once he met Arthur he trusted that he'd take care of him and stuff and wanted to try it.

If not, to whom did each lose his virginity?

Alfred to Arthur.

Arthur to? Idk Francis probably? I do see FrUk as like, a past thing. Along with SpUk and PortEng. So one of them probably.

(Read more bc LONG post)

Are they more patient with each other in private, or do they bicker/tease each other all the time?

Haha projection time 2.0

Bro, like, a good relationship should have teasing anyway (unless your partner isn't ok with it!) so definitely. But Alfred actually gets self-conscious about the things that Arthur teases him about so he has to stop and tell him how much he loves him and stuff. But in general they're more patient because they've come to understand each other and love the other's quirks.

Will they ever get married?

Yeah but after a while. Alfred wants to do it right away but Arthur rejects him, saying that the don't need rings to prove that they love each other. He promises he will eventually. I like to think after gay marriage legalized in the States they celebrated by getting married.

If so, where will the wedding be held? (Add other details if you wish.)

Hopeless romantic Ame time!

Can you have more than one ceremony? No? Oh well. Summer wedding in America, Fall Wedding in England. I don't know much about wedding planning but I read a headcanon that was like "their vows were so beautiful it made everyone cry" and I support that. Both of them cry during the other's too. Lots of tears shed on both sides during everything. Lots of white and silver and gold because yeah. None of this stupid "one of them wears a dress" business. Like, it's ok for a relationship to be masc/masc and fem/fem like don't heteronormalize it. So two tuxes. Probably no "walking down the aisle?" Maybe they both come in from the sides idk. A cheer when they kiss. "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis is their first dance. Arthur probably sings "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" after their first dance. Wedding cupcakes is galaxy brain so wedding cupcakes. Multiple flavors.

At whose house do they most often stay together?

Alfred's. It's larger anyway.

Do they refer to each other by their nation names or human names?

Human names. Nation only for business.

What pet names do they have for each other?

Arthur: Love, (The most common one) Darling, Dearest, Dear, Poppet (2nd most common) Alfie (extremely rare, or when drunk. Alfred adores when he calls him this though.)

Alfred: Babe, Baby, Artie, Art, Honey, Sweetie, Sweetiepie, Sweetheart, Sweetcheeks.

Who drives?

Both, Alfred loves to drive! But Arthur gets nervous because Alfred can drive like a New Yorker, (that is, aggressively, quickly, a bit dangerously, lots of honking from him and others) especially when he's in a rush or late, and god help everyone when he has road rage.

So Arthur judges the mood and insits if he knows Alfred is probably gonna drive like that.

Is Alfred good at making Arthur’s tea?

Dude of course. It's never quite perfect of course, but you don't date someone for decades without learning how to make their lifeline. In this vein Arthur also knows how to make Alfred's coffee. (And since this isn't a question, Alfred likes it blacker than black in the mornings, and all sugared and creamered up after work and in the evenings.)

It’s universally accepted that Arthur sucks at cooking. Does Alfred enjoy cooking? Is he good at it? Or does he usually stick to McDonald’s and fast food?

Ok yeah but I headcanon Arthur can bake, like really well. Ok yeah I know about his scones but maybe he's just bad at making those specifically.

Alfred loves to cook. He loves to grill even more. But he likes to experiment and try new stuff and he's damn good at it (because cooking is just another science!) So his meals are like comfort food. Almost restaurant quality. Boy could be a chef. But he also loves his fast food and instants. (Kraft's Mac and Cheese is so good.) And yeah he loves Mickey D's but have y'all ever been to like, Noodles and Company or Sonic? Like, there are some GOOD fast food joints and I'm sure he loves them all. Arthur probably doesn't like burger joints but does like places like Panera.

Do they shower together? (Often; not specifically for sex.)

Sometimes? Idk man it's hard as shit to wash your back so yeah? Also the tenderness of giving your lover a bath? I'm🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Who smells better? (In your opinion.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

People just smell like, people, and to the other they each smell like home.

How vocal are they in bed?

Alfred’s so LOUD lmao. But Arthur loves it. If he was more of a memelord he'd record and make a remix of his sounds.

Who has the more active libido?

Definitely Arthur.

Is spending time together easy, or are they forced apart for long periods at a time?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't know how politics work? Do important government officials have to be there in person for meetings?

Let's have two senarios here:

Let's say they do, and they have to be apart for periods of time. Both the boys have separation anxiety and HATE being apart, so there's always the fear and the paronia and concern when they are apart, and they have almost daily video chats. It's really hard on both of them. They text and call often too. They miss the other dearly. When they reunite they kiss and cuddle like they need it to survive. They're much more affectionate with each other and spend every moment they can together to "recharge" before the "hyper-affectioness" goes down. Leaving is super difficult. Lots of tears and hugs, promises to be back asap, longful stares and apologies. Cursing their job and such. Desire to quit or face the consequences and just stay. (Which is completely blocked by the other.)

Let's say somehow they work something out and they can spend long amounts of time together with minimal travel. Sometimes they get into fights or just get on each other's nerves or just need some alone time. Alfred will go run or excercise while Arthur goes to a café until they're ready to make up/miss and want to see the other. Business trips help keep tensions low, but they're still painful.

Are they wealthy? Or do they live modestly?

I’d say like average people. Arthur probably likes it a bit more tasteful and stylish though, so little hints of wealth. Also, Arthur basically has a library for his book collection that acts as his study and Alfred has his own study and a gaming room. They have the prettiest garden you ever did see though. And a really nice patio. With a nice backyard and grill.

For Alfred specifically: Glasses on or glasses off?

On! Except in the bedroom.

How often do they break up?

Rarely if at all. They probably did once and missed the other so badly that they promised never to do it again, and always talk it out. Sure they get into fights and one of them will storm off, but they both understand that that usually means the other needs to cool down before they can talk.

Open relationship?

No.

Did Arthur actually care for Alfred before the American Revolution?

I really want to say yes, because of how it was portrayed, but honestly? I don't think the U.S. was any different from England's other colonies. He'd occasionally check up on all of them, but he was super surprised at how fast America grew.

Of course once the war happens he's riddled with regret. Maybe if he treated him better this wouldn't have happened. War with a colony for their independence is ugly anyway. Even after the war, I don't think England was as heartbroken as it was portrayed. I think he was depressed about it for a while, but eventually got over it. It still took him, like any colonizer, a while to see him as an equal though, which infuriated America. However they are both completely over it and don't talk much about it anymore. It's all in the past for them.

@milopottz (I know we don't interact but 👀)

Tag people if you want, so

Also @alifeasvivid and @anyone who wants to

[beautifulletdownfics]

harry is fine and nina is fine too: part v

It’s two days before they tell anyone.

Nina’s housemates Jane and Sarah are the only people who know Harry and Nina are back together and there’s something perfect about the bubble they’ve been allowed to exist in for 48 hours.

“I should call my mum,” Harry says, his eyes focused on Nina’s hand in his, her leg draped comfortably over his thigh on the park bench. There’s a peaceful hum of water from a large fountain in front of them, “She’s left two messages now about dinner in Cheshire this weekend.”

Nina’s head snaps over to look at him, “She doesn’t know you’re not in England? Are you kidding me, Harry!”

“I came over to New York in a hurry,” He tells her, “It was all very romantic.”

Nina would role her eyes at him but it’s still raw, there’s still a huge part of her—of them both— that’s terrified they’ll turn around and the other won’t be there.

"Let's get a coffee and go back to the flat and call her," Nina suggests.

Harry lets out a laugh, "I thought we left the flat so we could actually talk."

"We have been!" Nina responds, comfortable with where they had managed to get themselves talking everything through over the course of the afternoon, "But I don't want to cry in public, which is what will happen if we call her here."

Harry gives her a serious look, "How do I know if we go back you'll behave and not just jump my bones as soon as we're through the door?" Nina laughs and hits his chest with the back of her hand, "We left because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

"Nonsense! You've turned into a sex feign."

"You have been entirely complicit."

Harry leans over and gives her a sweet kiss to the cheek, which instantly changes the tone, "I've missed you."

Nina feels tears come to her eyes, "Don't."

Harry's face softens, "We're going to be okay. Please don't torture yourself. C'mon, let's get you a latte."

They walk hand in hand through the park to a coffee kiosk Harry has occasionally stopped at when he's been on a run and given up halfway. They order and Harry sits on a brick retaining wall, Nina climbs up behind him, squats and leans her chest into his back, leaning her chin on his shoulder and watching as he types a reply to an email.

"Your hair is scratchy," He says, shivering when the ends of Nina's hair tickles his cheek for the second time.

"Sorry, but my boyfriend of two days isn't paying me attention so I've resorted to extreme measures."

Harry stops typing and tilts his head to meet her eye, "I am not your boyfriend of two days. We've been dating for four years. It doesn't reset, that's not how it works."

"Coffee's ready," Nina says, jumping down next to him and snatching Harry's phone out of his hand, "Your Christmas card list can wait."

"I was not doing a Christmas card list," He insists, petty but loving playing with her. Still, there was a sick feeling from hearing Nina say they'd only been together two days. That felt wrong. “I'm actually kind of a big deal, I was doing important work."

Harry doesn't try to extract his phone from her pocket, he likes the modern day intimacy of it, of Nina having his phone. She accepts the hand he holds out for her and they slowly make their way back to his apartment, having opted to stay there for the privacy it awarded them. He bit his tongue thinking about the intimate moments they'd been able to have that he doubts Nina's New York roommates would have been on board for. He and Nina had been overcome with lust and love in all rooms of the house, and he was glad for his own kitchen, and his own bathroom and his own living room to be able to take advantage of.

"You're thinking about sex," Nina pulls him away from the memory of their breakfast romp that morning. "I am," He doesn't bother denying, "I've just realised we boiled the kettle for tea but never made it. You walked in wearing just your underwear and it's all hazy from there."

"Hazy? That's the word you want to go with?"

Harry squeezes her hand and smiles over at her, “Obviously I remember every single moment in great detail. Hazy is a reference to the cloud of ecstasy you cast over my mind.” “Okay,” Nina draws out with a laugh, “Please don’t write a song with that as a lyric. It’s seedy.”

Harry starts humming a tune and singing out tales of lustful weather systems and foggy bathroom mirrors. Nina pretends not to be charmed by his beautiful voice and how very much she’s missed hearing him sing, even when his express purpose is to embarrass her.

Something close to both their hearts warms, loosens and settles comfortably back into place.

+++

Anne cries and so does Nina.

Harry calls his mother when they get back to the flat and manage to make a cup of tea without feeling each other up. He puts his phone on speaker and places it on the coffee table, his body curved around Nina’s on the sofa.

“I’m with Nina,” is all he says before both women are crying.

“Really?” His mother cries through the phone, “You’re with her now? Oh! How is she? Are you—I mean—Oh Harry, is she there?” “You’re on speaker,” He’s grinning and he really should have told her that sooner, it was rude not to have but Anne was lost for words and Harry liked Nina seeing that even without context his mother was overjoyed at him being even just physically with her. “And yes, she’s sitting right here. We’re back together, Mum.”

“Oh Harry!” She repeats and Nina can hear the emotion in his mother’s voice, “I don’t know what to say, I’m so happy for you both. You must be sick with happiness. Nina! Love, hello!” “Hello,” Nina starts quietly, holding her sleeve up to her wet face for a moment, “Hi. I’ve missed you so much, how are you?”

“Amazing! Wonderful! I’m perfect,” Anne pauses for a moment and lets out a loud breath, “You know I don’t like to interfere in your personal life, Harry, but …”

Harry squeezes Nina’s thigh before he speaks, “I know, Mum. It always had to be Nina.”

Nina holds her breath at what he's said, her heart breaking again and again, "I'm sorry but Harry won't make it to Cheshire this weekend," she starts talking slowly, "He's in New York with me."

"Oh, I'd forgive you for that a thousand times a day!" Anne shushes Nina quickly, "I'm so happy for you two. Have you told your sister, Harry?"

Harry looks to Nina who’s eyes give her away straight away, “We haven’t no, she’ll be our next call, I would think.”

Nina says nothing and Anne feels the need to comfort the woman not only her son loved, but both her children, and consequently both had been heartbroken in Nina’s absence, “You best hand the phone over, Harry, those two will have a lot to catch up on.”

“They will,” Harry smiles softly at Nina who has a few stray tears leaking from her eyes and more threatening to follow, “We’ll get onto that now, Mum, and maybe FaceTime you tomorrow?”

“Yes! Yes,” Anne cries, she sniffs and it gives away her emotion, “I’m so happy for you both. And for us, our little family has missed you dearly, Nina.”

“Love you mum,” Harry says, ending the call and leaning over to kiss Nina’s hairline delicately, “I love you as well. Would you like a moment of privacy to call Gem? I’ll go shower.”

Nina nods quietly, Harry’s phone in her hand and she doesn’t say anything as this pointer finger flicks around on the screen and hands Nina the phone with his Favourites on the screen. He kisses the corner of her mouth and stands up, watching Nina for a short moment before deciding he’s okay with what he sees and he turns on his heel to head for the bathroom. Gemma’s contact is sitting there, but Nina’s eyes are drawn to her own, still in top place on the list. He never took her off, she’d been sat in his favourites this whole time.

Nina lets out a long breath before hitting the call button for Gemma. The pair hadn’t spoken since Harry and Nina broke up, the severing of her friendship with her boyfriend’s sister had ended up being almost as painful as losing Harry himself. Nina always had an ally in Gemma, and she’s petrified there’s no way to get that back.

Nina presses call before she can psych herself out of it.

“Hiya, be quick, I’m about to jump in the car,” Gemma answers the phone assuming it would be her brother on the other end.

For a brief moment Nina panics and wants to hang up, but she doesn’t. She clears her throat and presses her forehead to her knees, speaking into her lap, “Sorry. Sorry … Hi, it’s Nina … Harry’s just in the shower.’

“What?” Nina hears Gemma’s car door slam and the background noise disappears, “It’s not Harry. It’s me.”

“Get fucked,” Gemma breathes out quickly, “Nina?”

“Yeah, hi.” “You’re with my brother?”

“I am.”

“Are you joking me?” Gemma’s voice cracks.

Nina nods her head and wipes at her newest wave of tears, “No. Harry came to New York and … We’re back together.”

“You wouldn’t joke about that,” Gemma says scarily firmly, so firmly Nina almost thinks Harry’s sister isn’t happy at the news, but her next words are laced with tears and Nina can hear the wetness in Gemma’s voice, “You can’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Nina reassures her quietly, “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry I disappeared on you.”

“It was too hard, I understood.”

“Yeah,” Nina sighs, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder when he slipped back into the space next to her, shirtless and smelling of soap. “I couldn’t bare to lose you all gradually. I couldn’t stand the thought of you telling me you didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”

“Fuck this,” Gemma laughs, “I just spent twenty minutes doing my makeup and now its all over my sleeve!”

Nina laughs with her, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head, unable to stop the tears falling harder, “God I’m such a bitch.” “You really are! I’ve always bloody hated you.”

“Oi!” Harry interrupts, pulling Nina’s phone out of her hand and hitting the speaker icon, “I heard that, we’re not quite at the being mean to each other stage yet. We’re quite fragile.” “Oh, you’re fragile, okay,” Gemma snarks back, “You stole my best friend and in the name of being a supportive sibling I’ve not told you just how fucking angry with you I’ve been for that. Nina, get your arse back to London, I’ve bloody needed you.”

“I’ve needed you as well,” Nina confirms, “I moved to New York and didn’t know a soul, the number of times I’ve wanted to call you …”

Harry squeezes her shoulder lightly, his lips finding her hairline again and staying there, his own silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Putting aside the bravery heartache forced him into felt calm and quiet and comfortable, but the fear at having not gotten on the plane to New York—or Nina having moved on and away from him—still restricts his insides unpleasantly.

“I haven’t been back since I moved,” Nina tells them both, “A visit seems overdue.”

+++

Harry’s not sleeping through the night.

He wakes up scarily close to 3am every morning and reaches out for Nina to make sure she’s still there.

It takes a few minutes for his heartbeat to regulate, and at first he was worried the thumping of his heart against her back would wake her, but a week into the routine he’s no longer concerned. He grips her hips and pulls her whole body into his, holding Nina as tightly as he can without disturbing her sleep.

Except for now, when he’s held on a little too tightly.

“Harry,” She croaked, “You’re too hot, lemme move.” Nina’s trying to kick the duvet off her legs and get her arms free from him, but Harry’s slow to release her.

He groans against her shoulder blade, “Shh.”

“I’m overheating and you’ve tucked the sheets in too tight.”

“Go back to sleep.”

She goes limp in his arm and huffs, he’s not loosening his grip any time soon.

The same thing happens with Nina goes off to classes. Harry walks around the house, trying to write songs or find recipes he thinks Nina will like but really he’s waiting for time to pass so he can pace in the kitchen waiting to hear her key in the door.

Every day he constructs a scenario whereby she’ll not come back to him.

Harry keeps it to himself for nearly a week before he confesses to Nina. The next day he sets up a call with his shrink in LA who talks him through the anxiety he’s projecting onto the situation. He’s just so sure he needs to be ready for another blow, like he can’t possibly have lost everything and then managed to get it all back again. It felt too good, too precious, too fragile.

“I picked up wine on the way home,” Nina calls from the door.

Harry deserts his cold cup of tea on the kitchen bend and skids into the hallway to greet her, he coughs into his shoulder, “Hi.”

“Hello,” She coos, falling against his chest and threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes against her neck, hands falling to her behind and pulling Nina’s hips snuggly against hers, “Missed you.”

“You’re warm,” Nina’s fingers move around to his forehead and she flips her hand to press the back of it to Harry’s forehead, “Do you feel poorly?”

“A bit,” He mumbles, breathing in and feeling his chest rattle a touch. The warmth in his cheeks all day and the slight ache in his joints only now registering as possible sickness.

“I spoke to your mum on the way here, she’s worried about you, H,” Nina draws back and tilts his chin so Harry’s looking at her, “I am too.” Harry gulps, “I feel like I’m going crazy,” he admits.

Nina frowns, “You’re not crazy.”

“I feel like it …” He whispers, struggling to hold her gaze, “When you’re not here I’m sure you won’t come back.”

“I love you, why would I not come back?” Nina’s watching his eyes fill with water and she feels like her stomach hits the floor, “Harry, baby.”

“I don’t know, it’s just where my head goes,” Harry shrugs helplessly and watches her, her gaze worried and gentle.

“Go and have a shower and get into fresh, comfy clothes,” She says softly, Nina pulls his head down so she can kiss between his eyebrows, “Set yourself up on the sofa and I’ll join you.”

Nina can see he’s run down, anxious and coming down with something. Which isn’t surprising really. He’s putting himself under a lot of stress and Nina knows as well as anyone how easily anxiety can physically manifest in the body. Harry’s worked himself into a state and it breaks Nina’s heart to think at the core of it all is a fear of losing her.

Twenty minutes later she’s left the wine in the fridge in favour of two fresh mugs of tea and a plate of honey toast. She puts the breakfast tray on the coffee table in the lounge and runs upstairs to get out of her jeans and slip into her pyjamas.

Harry’s barricaded himself into the corner spot of the L shaped sofa, his thick woollen socks peaking out under the throw blanket. He’s wearing an old tour hoodie and grey tracksuit pants and his head is resting back on the top of the sofa. When Nina lifts the corner of the knitted blanket and eases down into the spot next to him, Harry lifts and arm and waits a moment before draping it around her shoulders.

“Here,” She passes him a mug of tea and then balances the plate of toast on her knee, “You’ve run yourself into the ground, Harry.”

He shuts his eyes and holds his mouthful of hot tea in his mouth for a moment before letting it drain down his throat, “I just feel like … I’m in this scary state where the last 6 months didn’t happen. Or like they’re about to happen again, I don’t know. I spent the whole time we were apart just wanting this again and I thought it would feel … different.” “We won’t just snap back into place,” Nina tells him carefully, “As much as I know we’d both like to … There’ll be growing pains, H. We’re both hurt and scared, and I know optimism isn’t usually my strong suit, but you don’t prevent bad things from happening by worrying about them.”

“I know, I just guess I hadn’t really clocked how bad my mental state was … I’m falling apart inside, Neens. It’s like I got used to telling myself over and over that we had to get back together and now we have my brain has flipped it and is knocking on the door saying, ‘Just kidding, this thing has an expiry date, mate’.”

He watches Nina frown into her tea, deep in thought. Somehow she’s seemed to come out of this much better, probably because she had moved on with her life. Harry’s coping mechanism was to try to keep everything the same—Nina moved to the other side of the world and has managed to deal with the break up in a healthy way.

“I mean,” She starts slowly and Harry hopes she has the silver bullet, “I think the only way I can help is with time. You don’t feel safe yet, which is understandable. It might take some time for that to come back, that feeling secure in the relationship.”

“I feel like a needy idiot,” He laments quietly, his words harsh and cutting.

Nina puts the plate to the side and slips a leg over Harry’s knees, seating herself in a straddle over his lap, leans in and kisses his lips softly, “It’s scary to think we might still be apart,” Nina whispers, “I get it, Harry. I feel like such an idiot if I think about it too much. I thank whatever the heck is out there beyond us that you got on that plane to New York.”

Harry winds his arms low around her back, “Is it weird that I just want to take you back to London, and move all your stuff back to my place? I fucking hate that your shit isn’t all over my house anymore. Missed that the most,” His lips find her collarbone and sit there for a moment, “Every now and again something would come for you in the post and I’d want to scream. There’s a stack of shit from brands in a wardrobe waiting for you. Didn’t have the heart to throw them out, or give it to Gem.”

He’s sharing his suffering, so Nina tries to swallow the way what he’s telling her is hurting. Nina got invites to attend events and emailed a bunch of Harry’s travel bookings the first few months they were apart. Every now and again an assistant would slip and Nina would get details of his hotel or fights like she used to.

“The easter long weekend is coming up,” She says, “Why don’t we go home for a few days? Fly into Manchester and spent a few days with my family and then a few days with yours?”

Harry’s runnings his fingers up and down Nina’s back under her shirt and he nods against her throat, “Yeah. That sounds perfect. Finish in London, I owe Rodger some top shelf gin for calling me after he saw you. Needed him to kick my arse into gear.”

“Okay,” Nina says with an air of finality, “That’s that then. The UK for Easter. And maybe you could bring back an actual suitcase of clothes this time? Not just what’s on your back and fresh pants?”

Harry laughs, letting her tease for the way he jumped on a plane here with only the gym bag that was in his car. He likes that she’s not stepping around him coming back to New York with her. He’ll be wherever she is until she’s ready to move back to London.

“Mmm, might even bring a second pair of shoes, how about that?” He attaches his lips to her jaw and presses her chest against his. Nina’s hands sink down his chest to the waistband of his joggers, slipping just underneath them, “Careful,” he warns.” “Careful?” Her hand goes lower, pumping him once, twice and then she sits back to watch it between them, “Are you feeling too unwell?” Harry’s breath is caught in his chest as he hurries to shake his head, “No. N-no, never.”

Nina smiles, “Good.”

[all-by-myself98]

Shared Sorrows

Fandom: Kingsman (Set after TGC)

Prompt: In a world where people have their soulmate's name on their body somewhere, Reader and B don't have each other's name, but fall in love anyway.

Character: Jack Daniels (AKA Agent Whiskey)

   It had started out simple between you and Jack. You met at a bar you began working at. A guy had groped you in a not-so-innocent manner and he kicked his ass and threw him out. You thanked him with a refill of whiskey on the house.

   Then he began coming almost every week around the same time. Sometimes, he was alone, other times he had a few people from work with him.

   You really hadn’t meant to gain such a schoolgirl crush on the older man but you had felt lonely for years and to have a man treat you so kindly and so protectively like your own soulmate used to had triggered old feelings. Feelings of happiness and sadness. Safety and grief.

   A month after you had originally met Jack, you had to take some time off from work because of these feelings surfacing up and forcing you to mourn once again.

   The next week you’re back, you try to avoid his eyes but fail on numerous occasions. When it was finally time for your shift to end, he approaches you.

   “I don’t mean to be so forward,” he starts, “but I was wonderin’ if I could take you out after your shift ends. Maybe for some late dinner?”

   You’re hesitating right now. The sweet girl with the crush wants to know Jack more, but the strong young woman who failed to live a full and prosperous life with her true soulmate tells you no. He probably has his own soulmate waiting somewhere out there.

   “It don’t have to be a date if you don’t want it. Just two friends talkin’.” He assures. “I’m not lookin’ for a date or anything, just to talk. Get to know you.”

   This relaxes the heartbroken woman inside of you. “Okay... I’m off in 5. Meet me out front?” He nods in agreement.

   When you see Jack afterwards leaning on a dark blue truck, you’re still nervous. You know he said it isn’t a date, but you’re still scared shitless that he’ll expect something of you. Maybe him saving the day when he first met you was all a big long-term ploy to get in your pants. Maybe he’s nothing like your sweet Vincent was.

   The place he takes you to is a small diner just off the interstate, open 24/7 and wafting with burgers and fries once you enter. “Hope you don’t mind the place. I just love their bacon burgers.”

   You’re familiar with the place a little bit. Some of your coworkers go here to get food after their late night shifts too. They always try and convince you to join them because they know how much of a sucker you are for soft-serve ice cream and apparently this place has the best homemade selections. Problem is, you never accepted their invites because you don’t go out much since Vincent.

   “I’ve heard of their ice cream. Supposed to be good.” You reply.

   “You ain’t from around here.” He can probably tell due to your lack of a southern accent. Why else would someone drop everything and move to Kentucky? The fried chicken?

   “I’m not. I’m from the New England area.”

   You continue talking on and off through the night. You order your food and Jack screws around with the karaoke for a little bit to find a good song. Once he finally rests on a choice and your food arrives, you talk some more. Just simple things. Favorite food, favorite vacation spot, ideal pet, and so much more. Slowly, you begin to delve more into personal things.

   “Why leave New England for this piss poor place?” It was the question you had been dreading this whole time. Why come here? Why leave home? What’s here that isn’t there? “You don’t gotta answer if you’re not comfortable.”

   You shake your head. “I’m okay... It’s just hard to talk about.”

   He places one of his hands on yours and squeezes gently. He doesn’t want to frighten you away but he want’s to tell you he’s here to talk to and it’s okay. “You take all the time you need.”

   Thinking of Vincent is always difficult to do. You had loved him with all your heart. Hell, his name, now charred and written in ashy gray letters, rested right above your left hipbone. And your name had been on his left pec, rested right above his heart.

   “My husband... My soulmate... His name was Vincent. He passed away two years ago. I just couldn’t live in that place anymore without him.”

   There was silence for a few moments before he squeezes your hand once more. “I’m so sorry... That must have been horrible.”

   “I mean, I really should have been more prepared. Should have expected it more.” You counter, slipping your hand away from him. “He’d been struggling with illnesses his whole life. By the end of it, he couldn’t even walk.”

   He stops you by grabbing your hand back. “You should never have to expect that to happen. Losing someone as important as your soulmate... It’s harsh and powerful and it kills a part of you. You’re no longer whole.”

   You can feel his true and honest empathy. He really knows your pain because he too has felt it. “And your soulmate? Who were they?”

   Jack seems to double back, slips his hand off of you and leans back into the booth. He’s angry and pissed off.

   “If you don’t want to share, that’s okay.” You assure, reaching for his hand to squeeze it in comfort just as he did earlier.

   “No, it’s the least I could do after everythin’ you told me. It just... wasn’t as peaceful.” He takes a deep breath and steels himself. “It was... goddamn, over 20 years ago. Her name was Maria. She was pregnant with our son. But she went out shoppin’ and some druggies robbed the store...” He looks like he wants to say more about it. The way he spoke so venomously about the ‘druggies’. But he takes in another deep breath. “Cops said wrong place, wrong time...”

   “My god...” You almost continue to speak but the waitress comes by.

   “Food treating y’all okay? Were you looking to stay for dessert?” She asks. Her cheery and happy tone seems to be a bit ironic considering the mood of the table before she came by and what you were talking about.

   “Just a dessert menu please, Carol.” Jack mumbles. She leaves as quickly as she arrived, fake smile still plastered to her face.

   You almost continue to talk, tell him you feel horrible for him. He does the talking instead.

   “I almost tried to kill ‘em. Those druggies. Twice. First time, they almost got away with no jail time. I followed ‘em out the courthouse, had a switchblade from my stint in the army... Someone stopped me and took me in, helped me. Second time, those same people stopped me again, gave me a second chance I don’t deserve.”

   You counter his words. “We all deserve a second chance. Every single one of us. And maybe that’s idealist of me but it’s what I believe.”

   Carol the waitress comes back, dessert menu in hand, and places it on the counter, “I’ll come by in 5 to see if you’re ready.”

   She leaves and you two no longer talk about Vincent or Maria for the rest of the dinner. You are all cried out and much too tired to think about it any longer.

   So you go back to talking about small and meaningless stuff. Your dream jobs as a child, favorite movie, anything you can think of.

   After you get your dessert and Jack generously pays for the whole meal (despite your complaints that it wasn’t necessary), you walk in silence back to his truck. It’s 2 AM now. You admire the stars above for a bit before a question pops into your head.

   “Do you think they’re watching us now? Vincent and Maria and your little boy all grown up?”

   He halts his movement, having opened the passenger door for you. He looks up at the sky as well. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if I wanna know.”

   He drives you home instead of back to the bar for your car. You’re too tired at this point to be driving and he knows it. So you hesitantly give him your address and, after about 25 minutes, you’re in front of your house. He puts the truck in park for a moment and turns to face you.

   “May I ask somethin’ risky?” You nod in response. “You think... with everything we have in common... it might be right for me to ask you on a proper date? I can’t think for a second what Maria or Vincent wanted... but I would like to imagine that they would want us to try and move on, find a similar sorta love we had for ‘em...”

   You know Vincent would want you to move on. With his sicknesses, you always talked about it and he always told you the same thing. That he would want you to move on, to not hold back when an opportunity presents itself. And Jack, you know now, is a nice man no matter how much he says he’s not. He’s good and protective and handsome and funny and almost everything you would want in a man.

   You would be happy with Jack. And Vincent would be proud of you. And one could argue you already had your first date just then.

   “You could argue that what we just went to was our first date. You did pay for the whole tab when I told you not to.” You tease to him. He relaxes and lets out a small breathy laugh. Then, you scoot a little bit closer, placing your hand behind his neck. “But we’re missing one thing that we didn’t do on our first date.”

   “And what pray tell was it that we missed?” He asks.

   “This.”

   Then, with all of the courage you can muster, you kiss him. It was only meant to be short, but he places his hands on the sides of your face and reciprocates and it grows longer and breathier. His lips taste like a perfect combination of sweet and sour, and mold against you almost perfectly. His hands and his neck and everything is warm and, when you finally pull apart, he brushes strands of your hair away from your face.

   “You seem to surprise me every day I see you.” Jack whispers.

   “Funnily enough, I’m never usually this confident.”

   “Can I kiss you once more?”

   “Yes please.”

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

A/N: #3 of reawakening the writer in me. Now, a soulmate AU with Agent Whiskey of the Statesman. I set this after The Golden Circle because I was sad he died so, instead, I imagine hes sorta being rehabilitated by the Statesman and on a probationary period (of course, because he tried to let all of the drug users die).

As always, some constrictive criticism would be great. I tried to show his southern accent in the dialogue but I don’t know if I did very well.

Anyway, enjoy the rest of your Columbus day, y’all!

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 79

Chapter Summary -   Danielle's decision.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

Right so, a few things, football is referencing Gaelic Football, it is an Irish sport and the season ends in September with the final game being played on the third Sunday of the month and there is huge excitement surrounding it and most Irish country people would go to Flannery's or Coppers in Dublin for it, both are...shall I say, unique places, more like a cattle mart than a pub/night club.

Connemara is a Gaeltacht region in County Galway, the first language is Irish and it is a general farming area.

There are a few airports in Ireland, I had Danielle land in Cork Airport as if she didn't suffer enough (I am from Cork, so I like to joke it is terrible....I'm not joking, it is.)

Siobhan is pronounced Shiv-awn.

We are going to be with Danielle's family for a bit, her aunt will be based on my mother-in-law, spiteful, filled with self-importance and an all-round female genitalia.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sat on the plane, she was under no false pretences, she knew she looked like hell. If she was not so heartbroken she would have made a joke that she had some sort of superpower. She had a willing, handsome Tom Hiddleston, asking to pleasure her, and she declined him. Tom's face at her pushing him off her told how much she was crushing him, the only consolation she could give was that her own face mirrored his. She kissed him chastely on the cheek as she sat up on the bed, then she apologised and left.

As it moved on the runway, she felt the tears fall down her face. She wanted to be in bed with Tom, kissing and cuddling him but she knew it was for the best. She had said it to him before she left, they needed to take the time to assess themselves, perhaps, after some reflection, they may arrive at the same point once more, when Tom asked her what about if they did not, she could only shrug and say that at least they had tried. The flight was fairly full and the man next to her gave her a confused look as she wiped the tears from her face and looked out the small window.

When she arrived in Ireland, the Welcome sign caused her to feel some pang of joy in her stomach. She was relieved to have gotten the evening flight back, though it was to the wrong part of the country. Rather than driving, she went and got a taxi into the city and from there got on a bus to bring her back to Galway. A text to her cousin telling her she was arriving at midnight to the city was responded to with one that said that she had been drinking, so to stay there until morning. Not wanting to get a cab all the way to her grandmothers, she started to Google hotels in Galway, scoffing to herself about how she was a far cry from a globe-trotting singer, before becoming upset once more about how things had gone with Tom. As if by fate, he sent a text, just asking if she minded if he kept onto Mac until the day before he was going to Milan, he promised to walk and care for him properly. She could only bring herself to text back the word "sure" though several times she felt like texting more, saying that she was sorry, that she still loved him, but she stopped herself, as hard as it was, she was not going to be weak and rush back to him, she was going to look after herself, ensure she was happy before she even considered Tom and a relationship.

*

In London, the one-word reply filled Tom with relief that she had responded at all. As he looked at Mac, who seemed to sense there was a severe upheaval after occurring and was looking at him, he was glad to have the dog for company. In the time since his mother and sister had the dog accidentally brought to them in London before Christmas, he had become incredibly attached to the canine. He remembered the day he had found him on set, underfed and incredibly mangy, he rang Danielle out of instinct. She was not a vet, but she was a paramedic and the daughter of one, and he remembered how she told Emma how she used to tend to the weaklings for her dad, so he assumed immediately she would have some inkling as what to do. Since then, he had thrived as a loved pet and companion, and in truth, Tom was heartbroken at the idea that it was highly plausible that as well as losing Danielle, he could lose Mac too. Mac seemed to know what Tom was thinking and responded by getting up and walking over to him. "Hey, Mac." The dog groaned. "I am sorry for all of this, it is my fault." At that, the dog whined. "I am really going to miss you and our walks." The word 'walks' caused the dog to raise his ears in interest. "Not at this hour. At least I get to have you a few more days." Mac wagged his tail. "Do you think she'll give me access to you?" he half-joked, thinking about how his parents seemed to spend more time arguing after the divorce over where he and his sisters went on particular days and holidays than they ever did talking when they were married.

*

Danielle sat in the car with her cousin, whose only words were "You look as bad as I feel" since seeing her as they drove back to Connemara.

"Just so you know, you are Mam's focus at the moment," Siobhan warned her as they passed a sign telling them there were coming into the Gaeltacht region.

"Dare I ask?"

"'Your parents were married before they were your age, your dad is rolling in his grave that you fecked off to England and what good has it done you,' you know how she is."

"I am sure he wouldn't be too put out by it," Danielle stated, looking out the window again.

"Hey, are you alright, like, you're not going to puke or anything?"

"No, I am just tired, Travelodge is not renowned for its comfy beds."

"No." Her cousin agreed. "So, what's the craic, why are you here today and not on Wednesday like you said?"

"I needed to come home."

"Who do you owe money to?" Her cousin joked.

"I rather owe the money."

"What is worse than that?"

"There are things far worse." Siobhan looked at Danielle as though she was mad, but at only twenty-two, she had little idea of what issues Danielle had. "Has Laura not got someone new for your Mam to scare off?" She decided to get the conversation off her.

"Yes and no. There's a fella from her job, lovely guy and everything, Evan, but Mam doesn’t know about him."

"Good plan."

"Yeah, so you know, if you could not tell her..."

"Call me Jon Snow."

Siobhan laughed, Danielle gave a small smile. "So what about you, any hunky English lads?"

"At present, no." Danielle felt as though her chest hurt saying that.

"Meaning?"

Danielle cursed at her cousin's curiosity. "It's complicated."

"What happened?" There was a genuine tone to Siobhan's voice, one that told Danielle it was not about her making small talk, but intrigue.

"Well, one guy was a bit too full-on, really nice, but was too ready for commitment, we were not really compatible, he is actually engaged, or maybe even married now and has a baby coming."

"Well, as long as they're happy, what else."

"Another, we were not really…it just isn't working."

"How d'you mean?"

"It just went off track," Danielle explained.

"You realise that makes no sense, right?" Siobhan scoffed. "But I think I get it, it stopped being fun."

"There was a thing with him talking about his ex, it made me feel like shit."

"Yikes, fair enough, no one wants the ex pulled out and thrown in their face." Siobhan agreed. "How bad?"

"Effectively how it broke his heart, which is grand, at the time, but he said this over half a year later and after four months with me, in a very public manner."

"Okay, and the asshole of the year award goes to…what was his name?"

"Tom."

"Tom, welcome to the 'Asshole Hall of Fame’."

Feeling her hurt was after being justified but also not wanting to talk about it any longer, Danielle turned the conversation around, "What about you, any lads in college?"

"Maybe."

"So a yes, then."

"We are just having some fun, I mean, we met in Flaherty's last year…"

"Say it was after the All-Ireland, say it, I beg you…" Danielle pleaded.

The football," Siobhan admitted, causing Danielle to erupt in hysterics.

"Where's he from?"

"Waterford."

"Do they even know what a football is?"

"Shut up," Siobhan growled. "He's nice, but…"

"You're twenty-two so it's not like you are looking into a mortgage with him?"

"Exactly. Speaking of houses, Mam is going to try and push to sell Nan's place."

"What?"

"Yeah, she wants to do up hers and dads, but she is stretched with loans for other things, so she wants Nan’s sold so she can use the money from the sale to do it."

"It won't get a hundred grand, divide it up and that is less than twenty each way after solicitors," Siobhan said nothing. "What? What are you trying to say?"

"Right, you have to swear you won't tell Mam or Laura this?"

"Siobhan, I swear on Mam and Dad's graves, I will not tell anyone this." Danielle placed her hand on her heart as she spoke.

"Mam wants you out of the sale."

"What?"

"She thinks that because you are a grandchild, you shouldn't get a say." Siobhan seemed as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders by telling her.

"Fuck that, Dad left me his share of nan's, that house is a quarter mine."

"You never were interested in that stuff."

"I'm not, but I am not being swindled out of it either. I said it before, I didn't give a fuck who used the house for what gathering, but when I came home, I get to use a room, since I am barely around. I pay my share of the property tax, the repairs and the upkeep so I am not getting pushed out so your Mam can get some overpriced kitchen for it, she can fuck the fuck off."

Siobhan laughed. "You are so like your dad."

"Good, he was the only one she couldn't bully, I'll have to visit him before I deal with her to ask him to give me the strength to."

"Want to go now?"

Though she was exhausted, Danielle knew there was a turn not too far away that would bring her to her parents' graves, so she nodded. "Yeah, if you're not busy."

"It's only twenty minutes extra, Mattie was always so good to me, sneaking me a two euro for the shop."

"God you are so young, it was fifty pence for us."

"Well, the rate of inflation," Siobhan laughed, putting on the indicator of the car to go the road to the graveyard.

Danielle looked at the ornate stone in front of her, and the plot that contained her parents remains. Her gaze fell on the carvings that were their names and dates of birth and death. She hadn't realised her mother was older than her father until her mother died. When they celebrated their birthdays, numbers were never used. She'd felt somewhat foolish that she hadn't known that. She thought about her dad and herself, standing at the grave after her mother had passed, she never felt much point about graves, they never meant anything to her, she rather think of her mother down in the library and community centre, going to the active retirement with the other women, or doing knitting, she never really thought of her in some hole in the ground, and her father was someone she thought of going for a walk or turning turf, but it felt right to visit the grave, if just to think about them for a moment.

When she returned to the car, Siobhan gave her a sad smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just weird being back, not having them here."

"Did you leave because they were gone?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Do you like England?"

"It's grand, I think I would rather be here, but it's easier to get work there."

"I think I am going to go to Canada or Australia as soon as I am done."

"England wants nurses too." Danielle pointed out

"Maybe, but the further from Mam, the better."

"Fair enough, it's as easy to get from London as it is Dublin really."

"Too easy for my liking," Siobhan agreed. "You swear you won't tell her?"

"I am not going to tell her you told me, but I am going to prepare for it."

"I sorta guessed you would." There was still a slight doubt in Siobhan's tone.

"Look a secret for a secret, fair?" Danielle suggested. She always liked her younger cousin, they rarely talked growing up because of the age gap and because Matthew and Bernadette Hughes, though siblings, spent as little time together as they could, meaning Danielle, Laura, Siobhan and their brother Richard were seldom in each other's company, but the rise of social media meant that Siobhan and Danielle interacted online often enough. Siobhan nodded, seemingly relieved that Danielle was trusting her too, though she doubted anything Danielle would tell her would be too important, she had already explained to Siobhan about non-disclosure agreements. "I only sort of broke up with my boyfriend yesterday."

"Okay," Siobhan had to assume that that was not the secret, it was something noteworthy, but hardly a secret.

"You don't like comic book movies, sure you don't?"

"No."

"Right, hmm." Danielle had to think for a minute. "You like Taylor Swift, right?"

"Her songs are good, yeah." Siobhan had no idea what Danielle was getting at.

"Do you know anything about her boyfriends?"

"She is with them for about forty seconds, I don't think she knows anything about them. Like, is she even with half of them or just after publicity, honestly?"

"I have no idea," Danielle conceded. "I really don't. Not the point, do you know who Tom Hiddleston is?"

"Oh, the really sexy guy from The Night Manager."

Danielle cursed herself for not thinking of that, to begin with. "Yes, him."

"Yeah, one of the girls in college is in love with him, like fucking obsessed, she has a page to him and everything online, she made us watch a few things with him in it."

"Really, what did you think?"

"He's hot, but not obsessive hot, he has a really sexy ass, I saw him in this ghost movie, the man is…why are we talking about an actor?"

"The Tom I am sort of no longer with, that's him."

"What?"

"I was with Tom Hiddleston."

"And no one knew?"

"Well, his family, our friends in London…"

"But the media?"

"No, we made sure we were never seen together in public."

"So there is no proof you were with him?" Siobhan asked sceptically.

"We have pictures, just not published."

"How the hell did you bag an actor?"

"I just did." Danielle shrugged.

"But it's gone?"

"Yes," Danielle stated sadly.

"Why did you break it off, you look really upset?"

"Because he did an interview about Taylor Swift a month ago and the way he spoke was as though she was the love of his life and he was with me so I feel like it just was too much of a low blow."

"Okay, your boyfriend saying that sort of thing in front of people you know is just mean, saying it in an interview to the world, that is fucking cruel, but no one knows about this?"

"No, and they won't either, will they?" Danielle looked at her cousin.

"Not from me, they won't," Siobhan swore.

[thelastspeecher]

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do.  And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted.  So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort.  Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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              “Mr. Pines?”  Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through.  He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

              “What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly.  Devin chewed on his lip.

              “I, um…”  Devin took a breath.  “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

              “…Yes, I do,” Shermie said.  He leaned back in his chair.  “How did you know that?”

              “Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

              If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

              “And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued.  “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently.  “So she told me to- to use this.”  Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk.  “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper.  It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page.  The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

              “Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice.  He cleared his throat.  “Do you need this back or-”

              “No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies.  Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said.  Shermie nodded.  “Are you upset?”

              “What?  No! No, I’m not.  Just surprised.”  Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner.  “And thankful.  Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”  Devin nodded jerkily.  “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

              “Right!  Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!”  Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom.  He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

              “American Pauper Marries European Princess”?  That’s…how did Stan do that?  I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely.  He’s not refined at all.  Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture.  There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife.  Guilt trickled into Shermie.  Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended.  It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan.  Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess.  But still…

              “Hi, Mr. Pines!”  A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts.  He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

              “Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice.  He shook off the guilt and regret.

              I have to focus.  My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is.  He managed a half-smile.  Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

----- 

              When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer.  A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

              Lirone?  I’ve never heard of it.  Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances.  Then again, I’m not a geography teacher.  He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

              “In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding.  Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

              “What exactly are you doing?” she asked.  Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

              “I know where my brother is.”

              “Well, yeah, so do I.  He does research in Oregon.”

              “No, not that brother.  My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said.  Amelia frowned, confused.  “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

              “Oh!  And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

              “Yep.  That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour.  I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

              “But now you know where he is.”

              “Yes.  One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said.  Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

              “Oh, that can’t be good.”

              “No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good.  It’s astounding.  Stan married a princess.”  Amelia’s jaw dropped.  “That was my reaction, too.”  Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family.  “I need to talk to him.”

              “Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently.  Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents.  If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

              “I…”  Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard.  “…You’re right.”  A weary weight settled on his shoulders.  “He has resources available to him.  If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me.  But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head.  “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me.  I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-”  Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Don’t blame yourself.  You did what you could.”

              “Yes, but-”

              “Maybe he just needs time.  I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

              “Maybe,” Shermie mumbled.  Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room.  Shermie got up from the computer.  “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

              “Sure thing,” Amelia said.  She kissed him on the cheek.  Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up.  He glanced back at the computer.

              Amelia’s right.  I need to let Stan make the first move.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to.  I am still his big brother, after all.

----- 

              Shermie turned on the news.  For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth.  He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

              But that’s not what’s important at the moment.  What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin.  Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

              “Amelia, would you mind?” he called.  The phone stopped ringing.  He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone.  The news segment changed.

              “In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said.  Shermie leaned forward.  “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws.  However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.”  A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden.  Shermie smiled.  “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.”  The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

              What?

              “Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room.  She held out the phone.  “It’s for you.”

              “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

              “It’s Stan.”  Shermie’s head whipped around.  Amelia nodded.  “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?”  Shermie held out his hand.  “That’s what I thought.”  Amelia handed him the phone.  Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

              “…Stan?” he croaked.

              “Yeah.”  At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up.  “Yeah, it’s- it’s me.  Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath.  “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

              “I know.”

              “Wait, you do?” Stan asked.  There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call.  “Danny-”  Stan said something in a foreign language.  A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue.  “Non.”

              “Apr-”

              “Non,” Stan said, more firmly.  He barked out an order, still not speaking English.  There was another muffled commotion.  “Sorry about that,” Stan said.  “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

              “I know.  Being a father is difficult.”

              “You know about-”

              “Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said.  “I know you married a princess, who became a queen.  I know that you have twin daughters.  And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.”  Stan was quiet for a moment.

              “How?” he finally asked.

              “One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married.  I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

              “I…”  Stan seemed at a loss for words.  He finally let out a small laugh.  “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.”  Shermie smiled.  “Ford had no clue.”

              “Stanford is brilliant.  But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

              “Yeah.  You’re right.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

              “The news just mentioned that.”  Shermie leaned against the back of the couch.  “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

              “I didn’t.  Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford.  Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

              “Really?  During such a tumultuous time?”

              “Yep.  It didn’t go well.  I, uh, I actually kicked him out.  But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling.  I’m calling to…”  Stan took a breath.  “Invite you to the castle.”  Shermie sat up straight.

              “Wait, what?”

              “It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family.  I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

              “But you don’t want them know Pops?”

              “Oh, hell no.  If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

              “Smart move.”

              “But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie.  They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.”  Stan paused.  “And…I wanna see you, too.  It’s been a long time.”

              “It most definitely has.”

              “So you’ll visit?”

              “Of course!”

              “That’s- that’s great.”  Stan sounded relieved.  A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call.  “I gotta go.  But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

              “You won’t be-”

              “I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said.  Shermie’s heart sunk.

              Right.  He’s a king consort.  He has more important things to do.

              “We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details.  I really- I really gotta go.  There’s a debriefing and-”  Stan cut himself off.  “You don’t need to know about it.  All right, bye.”

              “Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded.  Shermie looked up.  Amelia had joined him in the living room.  She raised an eyebrow.

              “Well?” she asked.  Shermie let out a long sigh.

              “It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

----- 

              Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

              “I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything.  “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself.  He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy.  His mouth went dry.

              That was a mistake!  Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses?  They can get anything they want.  He took a deep, calming breath.  Relax.  It’s going to be fine.  He resumed looking out the window.  While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle.  Shermie swallowed.

              The town car came to a stop.  Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

              “Thank you,” Shermie said.  The driver merely nodded.  Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside.  He turned to the driver.  “Do you know where Stan is?”

              “The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said.  Shermie turned around again.  A man strode over.  He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes.  The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake.  “The name’s Lute.”

              “Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked.  Lute grinned.

              “Yep.”

              “I recognize the name.  As well as, to be honest, the nose.”  Lute laughed.

              “I’m not offended, don’t worry.  The royal nose is large and distinctive.”  He blew his dark bangs out of his face.  “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

              “That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

              “You mentioned it as well.”

              “Fair,” Shermie said lightly.  The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him.  Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

              “What’s in there?”

              “I-”  Shermie rubbed the back of his neck.  “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.”  Lute was silent.  “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses.  They can get whatever they want.”

              “Pfft.”  Lute snorted. “Not quite.  Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes.  But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled.  Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you.  When you give them gifts?  They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.”  Shermie smiled back hesitantly.  Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open.  His mouth went dry.  A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

              “Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks.  Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan.  Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

              “Hello, Stanley.  It’s good to see you again.”

              “Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Um, come- come inside.  If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

              “That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned.  “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death?  Or be attacked by bears?”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me?  No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure.  Whatever you say.”  Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

              “Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

              “Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly.  Stan let out a laugh.  Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked.  “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

              “That’s a high bar, Sherm.  They loved it when Ford was here.  I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.”  Stan looked Shermie up and down.  “They’re gonna be disappointed.”  Shermie rolled his eyes.  Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle.  “No use delaying their disappointment!  C’mon, Sherm.”  Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look.  Stan stopped at the door to look back.  “I’m a king, Shermie.  I can have you court-martialed.”

              “You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother.  If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

              “Fine.”  He sighed in an exaggerated manner.  “I won’t court-martial you.”

              Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.