#whatevs even if no one reads this its a good way to organize thoughts and vaguely keep a log

[harrysonlylover]

Karma Rules (Mechanic Harry Part 6)

Summary: A phone call from Niall and its aftermath changes your perspective. Can a fairytale be fixed?

Warnings: alcoholism, drunk harry, over drinking, unhealthy coping, miscommunication, angst, mentions of alcohol abuse, hangover.

Please do not read if these trigger you.

Wc: 8k

A/n: Please keep in mind that this is just fan-fiction and some bits about the hangover may not be 100% true, as every individual is different than the other and deals with it in an another way.

Rereading part 5 is good for refreshing your mind!

This is also the final part!

Part 5

When it came to receiving good and bad news, people generally preferred getting the bad news first so that the good ones would soothe them. You followed that preference as well, but you didn’t always have a choice.

Not when you moved away from home, not when your car broke down, not when you discovered the truth about your “job”.

And certainly not right now.

The phone was still pressed to your ear, Niall’s voice was coming out muffled and incoherent. Your heart was banging against your ribcage, and still, the blood barely reached your other organs. You couldn’t move, or put two and two together. Not even ask him what happened.

The room was suddenly dark despite the lit light bulbs in every corner, the clock necklace that you didn’t even get to thank Harry for was ticking around your neck. It was the only sound you could hear as if it was torturing you on purpose.

Tick tock.

A reminder that whatever happened to Harry was your fault. Maybe if you had stayed—

It wasn’t an ideal timing for your brain to taunt you and make you feel pathetic. Niall’s voice was calling for you, asking if you were listening but you were simply trying to pull yourself back to the present.

Your body fell against the sofa, and you dug your nails into the cushions. The clock was still piercing your ears because you could grab it right now and reverse it but you won’t go back in time to change whatever had happened.

What did he get himself into?

“Are you listening to me?” Niall’s panicked voice urged you to focus. You were obliged to ignore the nausea and the guilt your brain was throwing already. Because that’s how things went every time, you only needed a simple situation for your brain to torture you.

“Can you repeat what you said?” Your throat was as dry as the desert. You thought about standing up and getting a glass of water, but you’re not sure if your hands would be able to hold it.

“It’s Harry! He’s fucking drunk—way too drunk. He doesn’t drink Y/n, he hates alcohol.” His tone told you all you needed to know. It pained Niall to say it like he was on the verge of tears.

Was he talking about the same Harry that drank herbal teas and scolded your food choices? You were somewhat worried that he might have gotten into a car accident at a race, but he didn’t. So why does this feel worse?

“I—what?” It wasn’t the best you could say in a conversation like this, but it was better than the radio silence.

“Listen, he’s in a really bad state. He’s lucky that he’s a bit conscious.” He sighed, clearly worried about his friend.

It was nearly nine, not so late in the evening. For how long was he drinking to get to this state? You never saw him drink nor did he open the subject. Your legs moved before you processed what you were doing.

“I’m coming.” You spoke as you headed toward your bedroom.

“I didn’t want to stress you, and I know you’re wondering why I chose to call you but he’s been mumbling things about you.” You stopped in your tracks at his last sentence, your fingers placed at the light switch, too numb to move.

“What did he say?” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“I—don’t know, it was all weird and—“ His voice was cut off as his attention turned to Harry. He mentioned some things about drinking water and lying back. The last thing you expected was for Harry to speak.

“Did ya know that she smells like strawberries?” It took him longer to say the sentence than normal. It came out slurred with hiccups, and a small laugh.

“Shit—drink water H.” You could hear Niall pouring him a water cup.

“Sweeettt. Y/n is sweet.” Niall didn’t have to answer your previous question, you were witnessing it yourself.

It is said that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and that scared you more than it comforted you. Niall was trying to soothe Harry, and get him to have that cup of water but to no avail.

“I’m not nice. She deserves nice.” His words weren’t as coherent but you caught some stuff through the speaker as you put on a random jumper and sweatpants.

“I’m coming Niall.”

“You don’t have to—I’m here.” He moved away from Harry whose voice got distant but was still mumbling stuff.

“No, I’ll be there shortly.” You hung up before he could object.

It would take you around 15 minutes on your bike, normally you avoided going out when it was dark but you didn’t have any rational thoughts swimming in your head.

Your mind was consumed by him the entire road. Why would he do that? Just because you left? But again—you were no one to him. Just an employee. So why did he mention you and blurt out weird stuff?

He might have kissed you and let down his guard a couple of times but that didn’t mean anything, right?

It’s surely not a big deal, everyone probably knew that your hair smelled like strawberries, that you’re sweet, and deserved someone nice. Or did they not?

You had nothing in mind on what to expect, you didn’t even know what you were planning to do—but you weren’t going to sit around at home while he was in this state.

All the overthinking kept you busy until you reached his house. The little yellow home that reminded you of warmth, is now radiating coldness. You dreaded going inside, fearing what would be awaiting you.

Was it your fault? Did that mean that you mattered to him?

You got off your bike, grabbed your bag, and headed slowly towards the front door. Niall must have left the door slightly open for you, but before entering—something jumped at your legs.

You looked down to see an antsy Snowbun circling around your feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Per your knowledge, he should be asleep in his small bed by now. You picked him up and cradled him in your hands.

“Are you running away from Harry or Niall?” The latter was his sworn enemy. Snowy replied by twitching his ears, earning a smile from you.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” You scratched the top of his head before turning the doorknob and entering.

The once vibrant house filled with music sounding from the record player, and the smell of home-cooked meals was now dull and cold. It could be the open windows allowing the night breeze to sneak in, or the absence of Harry’s energy.

Everything was a mess.

The living room was untidy, and there were broken shards of glass around the floor with the smell of whiskey lingering in the air.

It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but it somewhat reflected Harry’s state, as his house could mimic his inner feelings. Snow Bun jumped out of your hand and headed towards his bed in the corner.

For a hot minute, you thought that Niall left considering how empty the house felt, until you heard his voice coming from Harry’s room.

“Hey—just lay here.” Niall seemed like he was trying to convince Harry to rest. You sneaked a glance inside the room, only to find Harry attempting to get up and walk—towards you.

“Not dreaming.” He let out a small laugh upon seeing you.

Niall sent you a soft smile before directing his attention back to Harry.

You have never seen him in such a state. His face looked like he had aged a hundred years, his eyes were tired and hollow, and he was barely conscious.

You stood motionless, trying to process his situation, what he had done and most importantly why.

You wanted to step forward and assist Niall who was lifting him to the bed, but your body was stuck in its place. You have seen your fair share of situations and were always unaffected, but Harry had an unusual effect on you, and maybe—you did too.

“Shortcake.” He hiccuped again, accepting the cup of water this time. He took two sips only and rested his head against the headboard.

You were aware of his direct stares, but you didn’t speak or move. You bit your nails as Niall tucked him under the duvet. He was slowly dozing off by the minute, with less mumbling that you didn’t quite catch.

The room went silent except for the sound of crickets coming from the window. You stole a glance at Harry who sounded so relaxed while sleeping despite his disturbed state.

You let out a sigh of relief once you were sure that he slept, at least he would get some rest.

“How much did he drink?” You whispered to Niall with a scratchy voice.

“The whole fucking bottle.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned for you to leave the room.

You closed the bedroom door and followed him into the living room. He began picking up the shards of glass, so you kneeled to help him.

“How did you know that he was drunk?” Niall was visibly upset with what went down, he was his close friend after all.

“I didn’t… I just happened to pass by. I haven’t heard from him in a while.” He shook his head in disbelief, so you assumed that whatever this was, it wasn’t common.

You picked up the remaining pieces and disposed of them in a bag. You arranged the rest of the living room silently with Niall, but the silence was just too loud.

“Niall?” He turned his head to you.

“Yeah?”

“Most people get drunk—like it’s not right but it happens. Why did you freak out?” Your curiosity was getting the best out of you. You weren’t dismissing Harry’s state—it just didn’t make sense.

Niall dropped the broom to the ground and took a seat on the couch.

“Harry has had a rough past y’know? It wasn’t ideal.” You sat down as well, giving him your attention.

“He had an abusive alcoholic father. It’s not my place to say much, but it left an impact on him.” He spoke as if Harry was his biological brother. It was clear that he cared for him deeply.

You swallowed down your throat upon Niall’s confession. He hated alcohol. It must have reminded him of darker days. He barely opened up about his childhood to you, but many things clicked for you.

“I’m sorry that I troubled you. I was just shocked because he never got drunk, let alone drank in the first place.” He clasped his hands together and spoke with sorrow.

“He was in the worst state ever. I couldn’t understand why he kept talking about you.” He swiped his hand through his hair and gulped down a cup of water.

“What did he say?” Your voice was timid and small like you were dreading to know the truth. It may deny or confirm something.

“Stuff about you being an angel, that he messed up?” He shook his head, trying to remember some details.

“Also that you were too delicate or something.” He scrunched his face at his lack of memory, unaware of your expression.

Is that what Harry thought of you? It was so overwhelming to find out all of this within a short time frame when his actions did not reflect what Niall was saying.

You didn’t doubt that Harry was a good man, not at all. But to hear these words so casually, as if they weren’t the sweetest things you have been told—

“Sorry—I didn’t know he had feelings for you.” Niall broke the silence.

“Feelings?” You questioned, attempting to control the tears that were threatening to fall.

“I mean—the way he spoke about you…it was emotional. I called you because I thought he’d need you.” He scratched the top of his head, rethinking what he had done.

“It might have been something destructive because he never drank—“ He didn’t complete his sentence, and stared at the wall instead.

He must have caught on to your cluelessness and took a step back. You were picking at your nails with your head lowered down. Everything hit you like a rollercoaster and you needed space.

“You don’t have to stay Niall. I can manage.” You assured him.

“I can stay, I don’t mind.”

“You’ve done a lot already. You’re a good friend.” You tipped him a smile and he understood the cue.

“If you need anything, just call me.” He stood up and walked towards the door, before giving you one last glance and leaving.

Conveniently, Snow Bun ran in your direction as soon as Niall was out of the door. The little bunny jumped on your lap and got himself all cozy.

You instinctively patted his head and cradled him. A few tears fell down your cheeks against your will. You pushed back everything you were thinking of and walked to the refrigerator.

“Are you hungry? Harry probably couldn’t feed you.” Just the thought itself made you incredibly sad for no reason. Perhaps, it’s the fact that underneath it all, Harry was just a guy who loved his privacy and spent time with his bunny.

The more you recalled nice gestures that he did, the more tears fell. You weren’t sobbing, but everything was hitting you all at once. Whatever you processed this evening was hard to consume, even in small doses.

Snow Bun immediately began nibbling at the strawberry you offered him. You couldn’t help but recall when Harry fed him in front of you, it was a happier night.

You’re glad that he feels safe to take food from you. Was he able to sense Harry’s mood?

You offered him another strawberry which he ate comfortably like a baby. You placed two more for him in his bowl and cleaned up around the house to pass the time.

There wasn’t much to do, a few dirty pans, messy pillows and blankets all over the place, and a bit of Snowy’s dry food that fell out of his plate.

You opened more windows and lit a candle to allow the whiskey smell to fade. Thankfully, the broken glass was the first thing you and Niall cleaned up—but you were still skeptical about it.

You picked up the broom that Niall dropped earlier and cleaned under the couch to make sure that there was no glass left.

You felt a sharp pain in your chest upon wondering how it shattered. Did he lose his balance and drop it? Or did he do it out of frustration?

Your train of thought was interrupted when the broom collided with something. You could feel that it wasn’t glass, so you pulled it in your direction and reached your hand under the couch to grasp it.

It was a notebook.

It was already open, and your eyes landed on what was written. You flinched, feeling disrespectful for taking a glance despite not helping it. You wouldn’t want someone to look through your journal—but your eyes were glued to the words.

A few lines were scribbled at the top of the page including your name with Harry’s handwriting that you memorized so well. Yet, these lines were blurred out due to the scribbling—but you could make out the word ‘apricity’.

Underneath them were the clear unscratched lines that made you let out a silent gasp.

Starry haze, crystal ball

Somehow, you’ve become some paranoia

Just like a nepenthe

But your gift is wasted on me

You allowed your fingers to touch the paper, to make sure that this was real and that you weren’t hallucinating.

You quickly moved on to the lines under them and your knees nearly buckled.

I was thinking about who you are

Your delicate point of view, I

Was thinking about you

The last line ended on a whim and was more of a question than a sentence.

Just you?

You closed the notebook and threw it on the couch like it was poison. You were breathing heavily and your legs carried you straight to the refrigerator for the cup of water you’ve needed since Niall called.

You gulped down two cups frantically as if it would help you process or erase what you read.

Finding out that Harry most likely drank because of you, and might have had feelings for you was enough. But to see that he wrote lyrics about you?

Maybe it was scary because it was a concrete confirmation. It shut down the overthinking and the endless questions just with a glance at a piece of paper.

The suffocation was threatening to close up your chest, not caring about the soft night breeze and the lit candle that smelled like Harry.

It seemed as if his secrets were unfolding with any action that you took. There’s only so much you could handle in one night, so you laid down on the couch. You will sleep here, you won’t leave him alone.

You covered yourself with a blanket and were soon joined by Snow Bun who made himself comfortable next to you.

You contemplated grabbing a book from your bag but even that doesn’t seem to work anymore.

You wondered what could soothe a person if not books.

Still, there wasn’t much you could do. It was close to eleven and you would soon fall asleep—but until then your mind would get the chance to torment you.

What will you do when he wakes up? Will you have the courage to ask him about everything? Does he even want you around?

These questions and many more went through your head as you shifted on the couch. Though, that seemed to annoy Snowy who was trying to sleep, unaware of all the troubles.

Being a bunny is quite easy. ——————————————————

Harry struggled to open his eyes. His brain didn’t aid him and was not functioning properly, the same way car engines fail to roar. A tiny grunt left his lips, he was attempting to regain his consciousness, despite being overwhelmed.

A sharp pain stemmed from his head, the one people get from being beaten with a bat. He felt out of place as if he switched bodies with a completely different person who neglected themselves.

His bones and muscles didn’t ache—but the fatigue was embedded in all of his atoms.

Another grunt was elicited, followed by a hiss. The morning sun sneaked through the window, casting its light on his tired figure. It burned his eyes and worsened the pounding headache he felt.

His mouth was dry like a man who hadn’t taken a sip in days, he could feel it with every grunt as he swallowed down his throat in an attempt to hydrate his system.

“What the—“ He mumbled, forcing his eyes to open again as he collected the energy to raise his hand and shield his face from the sun.

The neurons in his brain worked hard to transmit signals. He needed just one memory to recall—a reason even to understand what led him to this state.

He buried his face in the pillow, relieving himself from the sting of the morning light. He groaned as the headache became unbearable.

What did he do last night?

The few cells that got to work urged him to connect things and conclude a reason—the headache, fatigue, and memory loss all pointed towards the unthinkable.

But no, he wouldn’t. Right?

He possessed great self-control, confided his sister in when he felt suffocated, and would never allow himself to resort to a destructive outlet.

No matter how torn he felt, how maimed and beaten his heart was—he prided himself in needing no one and repressing his sadness.

Right?

His muscles worked together to lift his body slowly. He supported himself on the mattress with his hands and observed his surroundings with squinted eyes.

Everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. The bedroom was tidy and neat, the way he always maintained it.

Yet, his attire had him confused. He never went to sleep with his work clothes, he either slept shirtless or with a clean tank top.

He couldn’t help but bring his hand to his temple. The pain was unbearable, flashing like thunder and echoing in his skull.

Attempting to piece some bits of information together was a tough task, let alone when he couldn’t quite remember whatever went down the previous day.

His senses gave him a push until his brain connected some dots and realized what his mouth felt like besides dryness.

It was Whiskey.

“No—“ It would be a reasonable justification. His body warned him when he first opened his eyes, but he was in denial.

Fatigue, muscle aches, headache, thirst, and in his case— feeling like absolute shit.

“What did I do?” He groaned, in response to his pain and stupidness.

He’s had his fair share of atrocious headaches and fatigue, yet he was never subjected to immense emotional maim that led him to this state. Not even in his younger years. He vowed to never touch a bottle in his life. He had a few beers as a teenager, but that was the extent.

He never wished to become a spitting image of his sperm donor or inflict harm upon others using alcohol.

Something that he must have done.

Recalling the cause of his ache was effortless; not because of its intensity or his functioning memory. But because he simply could never push someone like you out of his mind, even when he was in a foggy state.

“Y/n.” He whispered under his breath.

He was in shambles upon reading your letter. He needed an outlet to empty his pain. A pain that he inflicted upon himself and you.

It was an internal battle; treating you like shit to push you away, when all he wanted was to hold you and kiss your soft lips.

How could he even dare to have you? The most delicate being he ever met. You were an angel that fell on earth accidentally. Maybe god was searching for you, but Harry wanted you selfishly to himself.

He didn’t deserve you, well no one did actually—but a boy could dream.

Your soft aura and charming personality would never fit in a million years with his dark heart and destructive thoughts. You were so delicate that he feared breaking you, and if that ever happened, he’d never forgive himself.

He was a weak man when it came to you. Your contagious smile, books, warm personality, and kind manners. Love was never on his agenda, he didn’t even have any vision for his future. Nothing but his career maybe, but of course, you’d tip his scales over.

You became his dream, someone that he wished he could have. He didn’t realize that his heart was betraying him, leading the tide against his rational thoughts.

In some way, he was a prisoner of your presence. You simply had to walk inside the room he was in, and all his problems would evaporate.

Even when he first met you, despite his cold tone and expression, he was deeply enamored by you. He never wanted to find out information about a person this bad, he needed to know who you were.

He didn’t consider himself a dedicated reader, sometimes a book here and there but—a philosophy he once read stuck with him.

The philosophy of Descartes, his dualism, and the notion of mind and body being distinct, yet intimately related. It was logical to him to a certain extent but as of late, Harry created his philosophy.

The mind and body were foes; often joining together to set up a scheme. This scheme was to torture Harry. His body belonged near you, but his heart kept him up at night. They were allies for once, simply to dismantle his sanity and imprint invisible bruises on his body.

And so they managed to trap him, render him a fool in front of you, and destroy any small chance he might have had.

He gathered all the energy left in his fatigued body and got up from his warm bed. The sun’s rays burned his eyes yet embraced his skin lovingly.

He wondered why Snow Bun wasn’t next to him, it was against his habit but maybe he was just roaming around the planted strawberries again.

The first thing up was brushing his teeth, getting rid of the awful smell was essential. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again.

The sight of his tired face in the mirror had him double checking. When did it get so unbearable?

For most people, this was barely an issue—but for Harry, it tipped his life upside down.

He doesn’t go well with emotions, communication or even figuring out what the other person wants.

“Shit.” He splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a clean cloth and drying it.

He would need a while to feel better again, to accept what had happened, and avoid leading himself to that state.

He had a quick cold shower to give himself the illusion of being clean, even when his system wasn’t. The fresh set of clothes and cologne elevated his mood, and the sting of the water helped with his headache.

He needed a nutritious meal despite the nausea bubbling in his stomach. Besides, where the hell was Snowy?

Harry reached for the doorknob as wet droplets from his hair fell on the ground. He barely advanced a few footsteps before stopping in his tracks.

He had an inkling that his feelings toward you, and the letter you left influenced his actions last night. But, seeing you asleep on his sofa with his bunny cuddled to your chest was not on his list.

He stood in the doorway with barely a few breaths coming in and out of his nose. As if a time traveler somehow arrived at this moment and froze his body.

Could he still be dreaming?

He wasn’t worthy of your presence, not even in his dreams.

He didn’t even deserve the wasted sun rays that hugged him earlier. They should’ve poured their focus on you, just like they were doing this instant. Your skin was covered with gold, somehow glistening more than any other human being. This is how an angel sleeps, he thought.

He was so jealous of the sun, envious even. It got to kiss every inch of your skin and keep you warm, unlike him.

The golden color stretched to your perfect hair, shut eyelids, and soft raspberry mouth. Your chest rose slowly, even your breathing was delicate.

He didn’t blame Snow Bun for liking you one bit, even a bunny knew how pure you were.

He didn’t mean to stare like a creep, but funnily enough, his pet blew his cover. Snowy awoke from his peaceful sleep and disrupted you in the process.

You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the moving bunny who had enough sleep. It seemed like you did too as your body felt satisfied with the hours you rested during.

The room was bathed in sunlight and warmth, and surprisingly to your right—was Harry standing motionless.

“Harry! You’re up.” Your legs moved before your brain processed anything. You were up on your feet in no time, facing a confused yet tired Harry.

“H—hi.” He swallowed down his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Your hair was all over the place and you couldn’t tell what your face looked like, but you had to check up on him.

The night went by quickly, and the next thing you knew, he was standing next to you, hopefully sober.

“Pretty shit.” He pressed his lips together, ignoring Snowy’s thumbing on the floor.

For an unknown reason, his response elicited a tiny giggle out of your lips. One that eased his headache.

“I—“

“Do you remember anything from last night?” You beat him, feeling way too curious.

You had a plethora of things to say and discuss, stuff you should’ve said long ago.

“Just a bit. Not the entire picture.” He bit on his tongue, feeling the blood drain from his body.

Standing in front of you, seeing you, and hearing a question that was brought up yesterday triggered a sudden flashback.

How Niall dragged him to bed as you stared at him with fear and worry.

So he fucked up again.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out before you managed a response.

“What for? You barely remember what happened.” You shrugged.

“Everything.” He averted his gaze downward in shame.

It was out of a movie scene, two individuals facing each other in a sunlit room, way too stuck in their heads to see right what’s in front of them.

This moment was ageless. Your torn expression and his sorrowful face. Your sympathy and his regret. A powerful duo indeed.

Only in instants like these was silence positively uncomfortable. The silent eye contact back and forth, uncaring for the ticks of the clock, or what lies behind the eyes. The invitation to open your hearts broadly for one another, without shame or hesitation. Just two young beings diving into each other’s souls, passing control over to their bodies and hearts; even if they betrayed them.

He offered you an immense amount of vulnerability that he’s never given to anyone, simply by eye contact.

As if your souls had a secret language that they used.

“I—“

“Well—“

You spoke at the same time before stopping in shock.

“You speak first.”

“No. You talked first.”

He gestured for you to speak, and you swore you have never seen him this polite and held back.

“Hmm. I know this isn’t an ideal timing and that it’s quite rough for you right now. But how about breakfast and a mature conversation?” You asked with your bottom lip hidden between your teeth.

“I’d love that.” He nodded with a weak smile. The only one you managed to get from him for what felt like ages.

You refreshed in the bathroom while Harry prepared breakfast. It was similar to when he cooked you lunch. The same aroma drifted in the air with the sound of the oil sizzling and the same warmth that radiated from the house.

But this time, it was more awkward knowing that a conversation awaits. What were you supposed to say, and should you take the initiative of starting small talk?

You washed your face with water for the second time, dreading the return to the kitchen. You offered to cook since you knew he wasn’t feeling well, but he insisted saying ‘It’s the least he could do’.

Snowy managed to follow you to the bathroom (after he had his breakfast), and you smiled at his excited thumping.

“Let’s go.” You cradled him and returned to where Harry was using his chef skills.

He looked up the moment you walked in, offering you a gentle smile. Your heart ached at his gesture for no reason.

“Are you feeling okay now?” You cleared your throat as you sat on a stool near the counter.

“Somewhat…My headache is a bit better.” He scratched his head, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, moving your attention to Snowy who was clueless and happy in your lap.

“I remembered some stuff.” He mumbled rather quickly as he flipped chocolate chip pancakes.

“Oh?” It was a good sign because you didn’t know how to tell him that he randomly mumbled stuff about you.

“Um, yeah…” He remained silent for a few seconds and checked in on the delicious scrambled eggs he was preparing.

“I’m sorry you had to see that last night.” His words reeked of shame and guilt. There was a sense of vulnerability in what went down, and for a man like him, it would be a hard pill to swallow. After all, someone else had seen his weakness.

“Harry, I—“

“No, just let me say a few things.” You hadn’t expected him to begin talking now. But, it seemed that you were too busy admiring his tired face to notice the plate he slid in front of you.

“Eat please.” He gestured to your plate with concern when he was the one who should be fuelling his body.

“You need it more.” You argued, with signs of worry flashing over your face.

Sweet sweet shortcake, Harry thought. Always putting others before you.

The look of determination on your face was evident. Besides, could he ever say no to you?

“Look, I’m eating.” He grabbed a pancake from his dish and took a bite.

You swallowed thickly and joined him in taking small bites of food. He felt more full just by watching you eat contently. He tried to ignore the whirling thoughts in his brain, whether or not you had dinner last night.

“I’m sorry again.” Harry gathered his courage and looked into your kind eyes.

“It wasn’t your responsibility to help me, nor Niall’s.” An undertone of pain was hidden in his voice.

“And it was all very immature of me.” You could tell that it was hard for him to maintain eye contact, you’d struggle too if you were in his place. So, you averted your gaze away to relieve him.

You didn’t interrupt him, it was clear that he had many things to say.

“I ruined your evening, made you worried, and had you sleep on an uncomfortable sofa.” He swallowed down his throat, with his fingers digging crescent marks on his palm.

“I’ve put you through so much just because I do not know how to communicate.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“We’re humans, we kind of designed to miscommunicate.” You shrugged.

“Not to this extent shortcake.” His eyes held the key to everything. You used to think of him as an enigma, or impossible puzzle. But now, he was like a flowing river that held all of his thoughts that had been pressing to come out.

“I—It’s not an excuse but I’m not a fan of alcohol and I’ve never been drunk.” He swiped his hand through his hair, finally caving into his anxiety and averting his gaze.

Going with the flow and confessing that you knew was not an option. You wanted him to open his heart out instead of making him feel like he was already exposed.

“And my father was an alcoholic—“ He took a deep breath and remained silent for a few moments.

“Harry, you don’t have to push yourself to talk.” You whispered despite being alone in the room.

The signs of tiredness on his face were somehow getting worse, and a single tear slid down his cheek. Your hand immediately reached out to wipe it, making him stare lovingly.

He didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he softly grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with his eyes shut as if he were pouring something into the kiss.

“Sweet shortcake.” He gave you a hint of a smile as he gazed into your eyes.

“A fly wouldn’t dare to hurt you, yet I did.”

“Stop blaming yourself.” You grabbed a strawberry from his plate and brought it to his mouth. He accepted it contently and went back to silence.

The staring was not unpleasant like you thought it’d be. It was a continuation of standing in front of each other in the living room. Just two souls speaking in a different language.

He caught you off guard by breaking the silence with a shocked yet joyful expression.

His hand reached out to your neck where the necklace was dangling beautifully. He ran his fingers over it, before turning it backward and smiling at the engraving.

“You wore it.”

“Of course, might be my favorite necklace so far.” His smile was so broad that he seemed as if he had forgotten all about life’s worries.

“It suits you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Because it’s special. Uncle George gave it to me and told me all about it after I left your garage.” You unintentionally broke the joyful bubble by reminding Harry of the awful events that led to this moment.

His expression slowly fell until his hand retracted away from the necklace.

“Harry—about that letter, it was immature of me. I should have faced you—“

“It’s completely your right. I’ve been so fucking shitty. I didn’t even deserve an explanation.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m serious. You wasted your kindness on me.” His hands were under the counter, but you had an inkling that they were shaking.

“I have a lot to explain and—“ He continued to ramble vigorously.

“H, breathe.” You stepped off the stool and went to his side.

He was rushing to tell you everything, not giving his body or mind a chance to process because he needed to explain himself. He’d go on his knees if he had to. His anxious rants and fast train of thought were nothing but an outcome of fear.

Fear of losing you.

A small part of him still believed that no matter what he said or did, you would still leave. Even if he ripped his heart out and gave it to you as it leaked black blood on the kitchen floor.

So he fired with everything that made him vulnerable, just to keep you, or at least the thought of you if you allowed.

And you knew that, god you knew. It had you fighting back tears as you faced him.

“You’re still very tired. And we don’t have to talk about every single detail right this instant. You need to rest, we both do.” Your hand caressed his cheek softly, and his face unconsciously leaned in.

“We need time to think, feel, and process what happened. I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I just won’t work for you anymore.” You weren’t the best confronter, but judging by the look in his eyes, you weren’t doing so bad.

“And—when the time is right, we’ll talk about many things.” It was your turn to tear up now, and of course, he mimicked what you did earlier by wiping your tears away.

“Can I say one last thing?”

“Yes.”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” He took pride in saying it, his eyes raking all over your face to save your reaction in his memory.

The slow appearance of your dimples, the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the realization dawning on your face followed by the most adorable giggle he has ever heard.

“Did you just quote Mr.Darcy!” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“He’s my number one inspiration.” His dimples made an appearance and god you’ve missed them. They brought joy to his worn-out yet beautiful face.

There was a certain undertone to his statement that had you holding back another giddy smile. One of them indicated quite the resemblance between him and Mr.Darcy. How he was cold towards Lizzie at first when he was simply smitten all along.

‘He’s my number one inspiration’

Was your story similar to theirs? Was he your Mr.Darcy? Bitter yet soft when faced with the possibility of losing you?

Another suggestion that knocked the breath out of your lungs was the sentence that would follow.

‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, love you.’

He didn’t utter it, but the idea of him even quoting your favorite book ever sparked goosebumps all over your skin.

“How did you even know what he said?” His eyes were glued to your smiling face, and if he ever lost his memory, he begged any existing divine being to only keep this sight of you.

“I read it.” He confessed proudly as if he were an Emperor flaunting his possessions.

The bluebirds have arrived and made themselves comfortable near the window. They would soon begin their orchestra as scheduled.

“You read Pride & Prejudice?!” You gasped unintentionally, causing a faint blush to creep up his cheeks.

He hummed with a grin threatening to break on his face and chewed on some eggs as you admired him.

You ached to ask him why he read this specific book. A part of you knew, but the other part craved to hear it.

Harry read your favorite book.

“Actually… speaking of reading.” You swallowed down your throat and readied yourself for your confession.

He turned his attention to you, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You read a new book?”

“No—I’m in a reading slump honestly. My first one.” Your face fell, something that he immediately noticed.

“Oh—“

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, dismissing the issue. It did pain you but that wasn’t your current focus.

“What I wanted to say is that—I was cleaning some broken glass yesterday…” His jaw clenched at the mention of the glass. He didn’t think about the mess he caused, and bringing it up brought the guilt back.

“And I found something.” You were still trying to articulate proper words, but his facial expression saddened you.

Harry couldn’t decide if his brain wanted to pour its attention on blaming him for the broken glass or think about the ‘thing’ that you found.

“Yeah?”

“I did not mean to look—actually that’s a pathetic excuse.” You covered your face with your hands and let out a small groan.

“My eyes landed on some written stuff and I couldn’t stop reading your notebook.” You blurted it out as fast as possible, with an antsy body language.

“Shortcake—“

“I’m really sorry…that was rude of me, but I—“

“Calm down.” It was ironic how he managed to soothe you with two simple words.

“It’s all good, m’kay? Besides, the poem is about you shortcake.” Another proud confession left his lips as if what he said wasn’t so destructively beautiful.

You were always the reader, and never the writer. But Harry canceled both possibilities and made you the muse.

“I meant every word, and I always will.” He whispered as if the bluebirds would hear him and steal his sacred poem.

You could feel your eyes swelling with tears, your left knee was shaking and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry this is a lot to take in.” You covered your face from embarrassment.

“No pressure, shortcake.” He assured you with a thousand knives going through his heart.

Snow Bun broke the tension by thumping repeatedly until Harry kneeled, and picked him up.

“Someone wants attention…” Harry chuckled before Snowy jumped out of his lap, straight to his plate on the counter, and helped himself to strawberries.

“…or my strawberries.” He shook his head in disappointment for falling into Snowy’s trap.

Your laughter echoed in the room, overshadowing the birds’ songs. A laughter that healed Harry, and reflected his happiness.

“Do you want more food? Are you full?” He gestured to your empty plate.

“Thank you H, I’m all good. I think I’ll head home now.” You got off the stool and grabbed your bag from the sofa.

“Yeah—Okay. Let me dress up quickly to drive you.” He was heading towards his bedroom before you stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I have my bike.”

“I insist, it’s the least I could do—“

“H, stop saying that. I promise I’ll be fine on my own.” He studied your facial expression to try and figure out if you genuinely do not need the ride.

“Besides, I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night, you should rest and I need some fresh air.” You tipped him an honest smile that had his heart pumping.

“Sure, whatever you like.” His hands were in his pockets as he stood facing you.

‘I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night’ had him frozen in his place.

It toyed with his heart and messed with his blood pressure. You said it so casually as if it didn’t indicate that someone cared about him—and not just anyone, it was you.

His shortcake, his delicate girl.

You walked towards the front door as Harry watched with intent eyes. After a few steps, you stopped and turned around in his direction.

He was taken aback by your action and straightened his posture.

“I’m really glad that you’re safe.” You blurted out, as you looked into his emerald eyes. He didn’t get the chance to form a response before you engulfed his body in a tight hug.

His hands immediately wrapped around your body, savoring what you offered. You warmed him up in a few moments more than the sun that woke him up.

A whiff of your strawberry shampoo was stuck in his nose and that was all he needed to feel better.

Somehow, his hands were perfectly molded for your waist, and your height was perfect for him to lower his head and lay it against yours.

Despite his wishes and dreams, you pulled away from the hug with a soft smile painted across your face.

“Bye, H.”

“Bye, shortcake.”

It was an easy departure, not filled with heavy weight on your chest or guilt. The complete opposite of your arrival last night.

You weren’t trying to avoid Harry when you said that it would need time, but you knew that some space would do good for both parties. Pondering and reflecting was a necessity, especially for Harry.

The yearning to hear Harry’s explanations remained nestled deep inside you. Your patience would undergo a practice with a small hint of knowing what was coming.

For once in your life, you didn’t jump to conclusions stemming from your anxiety. What you felt, heard, and saw was enough.

You didn’t want Harry to rush everything because you could feel how the sentence was on the tip of his tongue, along with quoting Mr.Darcy.

He had feelings for you, and it was mutual.

You allowed yourself to feel the giddiness and rush while simultaneously acknowledging past events.

What led you to write the letter, Harry’s coldness and ignorance but also his sudden moments of warmth and kindness.

Denial wasn’t an option for you. You felt attracted to him since day one, and rightfully so. As for his feelings, you’re yet to delve deep into that topic.

Time does not heal, but it’s more of a breather. Last night was emotionally charged, but it somehow changed your life upside down.

He didn’t specifically confess his feelings, and nor did you. But you kept going back to those moments of silence when your souls had a quiet chat against your knowledge. Perhaps they confessed then because you really know.

If you were to think deeply about it, Harry did the one thing he vowed to never do just because he thought that he lost you for good.

It pained you to even consider it, but that indicated how much you meant to him.

Drinking to punish himself, his poem, his apologetic sweet face, his urge to spit out every single excuse his heart held, and his body that held you as if he was shielding you from the world.

He was the man you read about in your books, with all of his good and bad traits. In fact, he was better than them because he was real with a beating heart that you listened to when you hugged him.

The past would not be forgotten, it would be vaguely memorized to learn from your mistakes as human beings who were designed and destined to commit mistakes.

The next best thing after sunshine, books, strawberries, bunnies, and poems was second chances and fresh beginnings.

Even with the knowledge that many mature conversations await you, there was something comforting about this morning that carried a whiff of warmth in the air.

Harry liked you, and you liked Harry.

Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @miasdelicatepov @jessitpwk @tiaamberxx @peacheskiwi @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @20031990s @prettythingsworld-blog @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @cherrycokeslay @blepskies @that-daydream-look @hslt-2809 @ivegotparticulartaste @epidxte @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @epidxte @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @scottisantman @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @nysworld @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @rueluvsharry @lomlhstyles @infinatetatie @igglepiggle22 @namelesssav

Red tags didn’t work

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — TWO

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART TWO: 14,9k words Please read: Part two explores a lot of Aurora's irrational thoughts and it shows how much she struggles to be herself after being married to someone who was emotionally abusive to her. From my perspective, it's a really important chapter to develop the relationship between Aurora and Harry, but I want people to be mindful of its content in case they don't feel comfortable reading about this, or in case it hits too close to them. Feel free to reach out if you want to skip something and you'd like me to fill you in. <3

PART ONE

Despite the line, getting through security would've taken Aurora hardly three minutes. That is, of course, if she hadn't had to wait for Harry for another ten. 

He doesn't look the least apologetic for the held back, though. Nor bothered in the slightest by the extra time he seemingly needed. Smiling at her and holding their shared tray as he tilts his chin to an empty table and leads the way towards it. 

Aurora follows him quietly, checking her watch just to make sure they won't run out of time. And she does it unconsciously, regretting every time she catches herself looking at her wrist. Because she knows they're early. She swears she knows. And she wishes she could relax and just enjoy things without that awful feeling rushing through her body. That feeling that turns into a voice and yells at her that she's constantly behind. 

Behind what, one could ask, and Aurora wouldn't be able to answer.

She's just… Behind. 

Behind, and watching her life go by.

All the damn time.

Harry stops by the table, and Aurora mimics him. She drops her bag and falls on one knee, pulling up the hem of her dress and uncovering her foot. The Nike sneakers she's wearing used to be white once, but now they are just old and dirty, and she loves them even more like this. She nibbles the flesh inside of her bottom lip while tying the shoelaces up, then changes to her other knee, and repeats the process. 

Once she's done, she stands up and pats her legs, getting rid of any airport floor dirt from her clothes. 

"You're fast," Harry says, putting his foot down from the edge of the table. 

Aurora pulls the fabric of her dress up her chest and furrows her brows. "I am?"

"Hm, yeah." He frowns with amusement and chuckles. "You sure are."

"Huh." She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, then quirks the corner of her mouth up. 

Maybe, she should point out that perhaps she isn't fast, but he is too slow. Or that, unlike him, she'd organized everything beforehand so she wouldn't waste any second longer than she absolutely needed to. But what good would that do? Besides, those thoughts don't even feel like hers. They don't sound like hers. 

So she says nothing, instead, and steps closer to where he stands. 

Harry gives the tray they're sharing a gentle push to her side, and puts his other foot up. 

Aurora promptly slides the tray closer to her and places it in front of her belly, next to her bag. 

Great. 

Saying nothing was a bad idea, because silence is awkward now. 

She licks her lips and keeps her attention on their belongings, not knowing exactly what to say. 

Time goes by, though, and the longer she waits, the more awkward it gets. 

So she decides to just say whatever, just to get them talking again. 

"Perks of being a mom, I guess." She blurts out, then grabs their passports and shrugs. "Being fast, I mean." 

Harry leans on his bent knee and looks at her over his shoulder, blindly tying up his own shoes. 

"Yeah? Why's that? You get any super speed powers when you're pregnant or something?"

Aurora freezes for a second, passports still in hand. She turns her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at him.

Harry's soft lips are pursed, his green eyes are twinkling with playfulness, and his cheeks are tinted with a boyish flush under his facial hair. He's clearly having fun with his own silly comment, and it causes Aurora to break into a short laugh — not because it's funny, but because she simply can't help it. 

She shakes her head, and looks back at the tray. 

"I rush to get ready so I can pay attention to Noah, okay?" she explains, grabbing the boarding passes and checking the names on them. She puts hers inside of her passport, and the other inside of Harry's. "It's not a big deal."

She'd never thought about it, but it's the truth — she is usually busy keeping an eye on Noah, even from a distance. The little monster can't stay still for too long, and no matter how much she adores how energetic he is or that she tries her best to let him explore things by himself, the truth is that he's still only four, and she can't leave him wandering around unattended.

Which is why she fought so hard to sign him up for preschool — it gave her time to slow down and do other things, too.

Okay. See? That — that right there — is Aurora's truth. That's a thought that feels and sounds like hers. A thought that she came up with on her own, based on her own experiences and her own mistakes. A thought that reveals how she's learned that taking care of Noah is her responsibility, and that if she doesn't pay attention to her son, nobody does. 

No matter how much she dreamed it would be different.

No matter how much she believed it should be different. 

"Ohhh," Harry says. "Ok, then."

She sticks her passport and boarding pass into the front pocket of her bag, maybe a little bit more forcefully than she needs to.

"Exactly. So don't judge me."

"What?!" Harry laughs, putting his foot down from the table. "I wasn't—" 

"I can't leave my son unattended, can I?"

"I—I know, yeah." His face falls, and he nods. "I get it. That's… It makes sense. Yes." 

"Right. Great." 

A second goes by, and then another one, and another one.

Silence settles again, but this time Aurora isn't worried about it being awkward or not. 

There's just… So much going on. 

Her heart is thumping loudly inside her chest, and her ears are buzzing. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him.

It wasn't about him. 

It wasn't his fault. 

She pinches the tip of her nose and breathes in. Slowly, and steadily. 

One more time. 

Slowly.

And steadily.

And then, she moves again.

She holds Harry's things in her hand and leans on the table, reaching for his bag. Before she touches it, she looks at him over her shoulder and asks, "Do you mind if I open your bag?"

Harry doesn't answer, though. He's tilting his chin down and shaking his leg, making sure his pants are properly covering his ankles. 

Aurora purses her lips and straightens her back, then slides his bag across the table and pulls it closer to her body. 

Now everything's in front of her, the tray caged in between both duffel bags. 

She bites her bottom lip, but it's hard to stop her mouth from turning into a smile. 

Maybe the speed in which she moves isn't an inconvenience, after all. In fact, maybe it even comes in handy, because apparently if she doesn't move for both of them, someone will sooner or later shove them away. 

"Harry," she insists.

"Hm?" He looks up. A frown crinkles his face — his eyebrows are pulled together, his forehead is puckered, and his lips are curled downwards. As soon as he meets her eyes, though, his shoulders drop, and he shakes his head. "Sorry."

He scratches his jaw, dragging his nails over his stubble. 

Aurora stretches her arm, and pats her hand on the edge of the table, where his feet were a minute ago. "It's fine. I was just asking if it's okay to put your passport inside your bag."

"Oh! Yeah yeah, sure. Go ahead. Thanks."

"'Kay," she says, already unzipping the front pocket and putting things away. 

Aurora rolls her shoulders at the same time Harry moves closer, and she unthinkingly snatches his belt from the tray and hands it to him. 

"Here."

"Oh," he murmurs, grabbing it from her fingers. "Thanks."

He steps away, but there's something in his voice that somehow catches her attention, and Aurora turns her head. 

She glances over her shoulder, and peeks at his face. 

Harry is looking down again, chin pressed against his chest while he takes the end of his belt and puts it into the first front loop of his beige pants. His movements are casual, but he's holding back a smile, and Aurora can tell his mind is working on something.

Something silly, to be more specific. 

She curls her mouth up, then raises her left eyebrow. "What?"

Harry tugs his belt, threading it through the second loop. 

"What?" he repeats, and his mouth finally turns into a grin. 

She turns her body towards him, then places one hand on her waist and the other spread open on the table, holding up her weight. "C'mon, out with it."

Harry laughs, slightly bending his knees and throwing his head back. "I didn't even say a word!"

"Well, you didn't have to!" She rolls her eyes and chuckles, backing away from the table to put both hands on her hips. "I can see you're thinking something."

He shakes his head, looking down and threading his belt through the next loop. 

"Harry…"

He peeks at her through the corner of his eyes, then focuses back on his belt. 

"You're aware you can leave me unattended, right?" he asks, keeping a bright smile on his face and the light tone on his voice.

"What?"

"I mean I don't mind." He shrugs, eyes still on his current task. "Gotta admit it's kinda cute to see you like this." 

"I don't—"

"My favorite part was probably when you cleaned up the table."

"I—" Aurora closes her mouth, and exhales through her nose. "You put your feet there, Harry."

"I did, yeah. And you cleaned it up."

"Well, someone has to clean up your mess, don't you think?"

Harry glances at her, and smirks as mischievous and suggestive as he can be. "Oh, I always clean up my mess, love, don't worry about it."

He winks, and Aurora gasps. 

"Oh my God!"

She turns to face the table, feelings her cheeks getting warm. 

Harry laughs, though, so she steps closer to his side and nudges him with her elbow. 

"Shut up."

"'Kay mum."

"Ughhh." She rolls her eyes, then shuts them tightly and takes a deep breath in. "You're so annoying." 

Harry's laughter only grows louder, and Aurora shakes her head, blinking her eyes open again. 

It only takes him a moment to calm down, but the smile is still obvious in his voice when he speaks again. 

"I know. I'm just teasing you, tho. I'll stop now. I promise."

Aurora snorts. "Yeah, right." 

She believes his words as much as she believes Noah when he promises he will eat his entire dinner if he gets to eat dessert first. 

The thought brings a smile to her face, and she bites her lip to hold it back. 

Peeking inside the tray one more time, she finds several rings, a bracelet, a watch, and three necklaces. Her mouth twitches, and her chest trembles with amusement — no wonder why Harry took so much longer than her to get through security.

She pulls the string of her necklace from the tray, takes each side to the back of her neck and quickly clasps it back to its everyday place. Next, she grabs her watch, and puts it on just as fast around her wrist. 

"Well,"  she starts, then looks at him. 

Harry is, once again, deeply focused on his task — his chin touches his chest, his eyebrows are pulled together, and he's biting his bottom lip. 

"All yours now," she adds. 

Harry peeps at her through the corner of his eyes, his hands still attached to his belt as he finally reaches the last loop. He darts his vision to the tray, then back at her, scanning her chest, her wrist, and her hands. "You sure? All of it?"

"Mhmm."

A group of people walks to their table, and Aurora takes a step aside to give them more room.

"Ok." He buckles his belt, then fixes his shirt. "We can go, then."

"Oh. I didn't mean to rush you."

He smiles, putting one hand inside the tray and carelessly collecting everything that's left inside. 

"You didn't." He closes his hand into a fist, then shoves everything inside of his pocket. "It's just getting crowded here. C'mon."

"Hey, was my joke inappropriate?"

Past security and turning right, the hallway is significantly less hectic than any other area Aurora has walked through in the last hour or so. 

It is probably one of the brightest, too. 

"Hm?" she asks, tilting her head to give Harry her full attention. "Sorry, what joke?"

"About… Y'know, cleaning up my mess."

"Ohhh." Aurora laughs, then waves him off. "Please, it's nothing any of you guys haven't joked about before." 

"I know, but… Things are different now, aren't they? Don't want to make you uncomfortable, or, well, don't want to be disrespectful to your hus—"

"You're fine," she says, cutting him off before she'll be forced to either correct him or say nothing, implicitly letting him believe there's still a husband in her life. "Don't worry about it. Let's stop here so you can put your rings back on, yeah?"

She points to one side of the hallway, and walks in front of him to guide the way. It only takes her a few steps, then she places her bag by her feet and turns around. 

When she looks at him, she finds him frowning. 

Frowning and frozen on the spot. 

"Harry, hey!" She raises one hand and wiggles her fingers. "C'mon. I'll help you."

Harry's face softens. He shakes his head, then walks towards her while putting his hand inside of his pocket. 

Leaning against the white wall, Aurora watches him come to a stop right in front of her, then drop all of his jewelry on top of her spread open palm.

"Thank you," he murmurs. 

She finds his sight again, and a smile blooms across her face. "Sure, no problem."

His lips curve into a smile, too, and he looks down. He shakes his head and pulls his hair back, then turns his attention back to the items on Aurora's palms. He seems meticulous about which ring goes where, fiddling with them and hunting for specific ones. Eventually, he grabs three at once, and puts them on his pinky, middle and index left fingers. 

Aurora raises her chin and rests the back of her head against the wall, comfortably watching his relaxed face as he towers over her. 

From what she remembers, jewelry was never Harry's thing. Long hair and skinny jeans? One hundred percent. But the necklaces, the rings, and the bracelets? Those were things she'd no idea he'd be into. Or maybe not to the point of making them part of his casual look to the airport.  

"So," she teases, easing her dry lips with her tongue then forcing her voice to sound exactly like she imagines a reporter would sound like, "Harry, would you say you enjoy wearing rings?" 

Harry darts his eyes to her, and the expression on his face never falters, holding a serious and unamused demeanor as he moves his lips to say, "Bloody hate them."

She presses her lips together, but then she snorts, taking her free hand to cover her mouth. 

Harry shakes his head and grins, changing hands and catching two more rings to put on his right fingers. 

"Why? What's wrong with my rings?" 

She sighs and shrugs, calming down from her brief moment of foolish, silly laughter. 

"Nothing. 'M just teasing you."

He places the last two, and pulls the two golden strings from her palm. 

"Hmm…" Harry nods. He fixes his eyes on the jewelry and frowns, eying the many tiny knots that had formed along the necklaces. "Great, then. Glad you're having fun at my expense."

Aurora drops her jaw.

"You were making fun of me two minutes ago!"

Harry chuckles, although he's distracted by his attempt to untangle his necklaces. "Guess I was, huh."

He shakes his head, and Aurora steps away from the wall, getting closer to him.

"Which wrist do you wear this one?" she asks, lifting her hand and his bracelet.

"Left—I mean, right," he answers, and although they don't look at each other's faces, they both smile at the same time. 

Harry remains focused on the knotted strings between his fingers, but stops moving when Aurora curls one hand around his right wrist and pulls it closer to her face. In one quick movement, she clasps the item around it, then taps his hand twice. 

"All done. Now gimme that." 

She snatches the necklaces from him, and observes carefully before undoing the mess. One of the golden strings is longer than hers, but they're both just as delicate, and instead of a disk, one holds a cross pendant, and the other a tiny, thin tag. She bites her lip and patiently fiddles with the pieces of jewelry, taking her time to unwrap the tiny knots.

Things are quiet. Time ticks without a hurry. And after a minute, or maybe two, or three, she grins proudly, and lifts her chin to look at him.

"Look!" she says, even though she doesn't have to — Harry's already looking at her, already watching her. "I've done it!"

He blinks a couple of times, then nods, slowly mimicking her smile and her excitement. "Y—You did, yeah! Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grabs the longest string, picking each side with one hand, and takes a step closer to him. "I find untangling necklaces weirdly therapeutic." 

Harry widens his eyes. "What are you doing?!" 

Aurora rolls her eyes, and chuckles. "Calm down. I'm not gonna kiss you, don't worry."

"Right. No, yeah, I know that." He chuckles, too. "Of course." 

She stops moving and tilts her head, then raises her hands. "I mean, can I?"

"Wha—" Harry takes a step back. "Kiss me?!"

"Harry!" Aurora shrieks, also taking a step back and away from him. "Oh my God, no!"

She looks at him for a moment, taking in his bulged eyes and raised eyebrows. He looks mortified, and there's so much going on at once that she can't help but burst into laughter — at the misunderstanding, at the look of his face, but also at the terror in his voice. 

She turns away from him, throwing her head back as laughter breaches from her chest. 

"This is… I can't…"

"Sorry," Harry says, "I just—"

Aurora shakes her head, feeling warmth radiating from her chest throughout her entire body. 

"Oh my… Oh my God." She places one hand on her stomach and brings the other to her face, fanning herself while taking a deep breath in through her nose. "You should've… You should've seen your face… Oh God… Harry… You panicked so hard, I just…"

She wipes a tear from under her eye, and takes another deep breath in, working to calm herself down.

"I never… I never thought the idea of kissing me could… Could be that terrifying for someone. Oh God."

Harry sighs. "Auri…"

She turns around, and looks at him with the biggest smile on her face, her body still shaking from laughing. 

Harry isn't happy, though. Or at least he doesn't seem to be. He's narrowing his eyes, and furrowing his brows. His lips are pressed into a hard line, and his forehead is puckered. 

And just like that, Aurora's laughter fades away. 

Shit. 

She's too familiar with that dynamic, so she clears her throat and shakes her head. 

"I'm sorry. I—I know it wasn't funny. I just… I think I haven't laughed this hard in a really long time, so I just… I got carried away, I guess. I'm sorry. But I shouldn't—Sorry." 

"Listen, I didn't—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." 

Actually, Aurora doesn't know. Of course she doesn't know. She has absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but she doesn't want to talk about it. She's been there before. And she's been there before so many times that her mind and body don't even know how to react any other way. How not to anticipate the humiliation and shame that is about to follow. How not to completely shut off. 

Thankfully, Harry seems to get it, because he nods, grabbing his necklaces from her hand and putting them back inside of his pocket. 

And this time, Aurora doesn't say anything about it, grabbing her bag from the floor and feeling ready to move on.

"Do you mind if we take a look around some of the shops?" Aurora asks, pointing around the World Duty Free and breaking the silence that settled between them for the past few minutes. 

Harry moves slowly next to her, keeping his hands inside of his pockets. "'Course not."

"Thanks." She makes sure to curve her mouth into a smile, then stops at the first shop to take a look at the makeup. 

Things are quiet, but Harry stands right behind her all the time, keeping her company while she brings a lipstick closer to her face to check the color shade, and then following her steps when she moves to a different shelf. 

"Hey," Aurora says, looking over her shoulder, "what's your cologne?"

"Hm..." He scratches his jaw and shrugs. "Depends on the day, I guess."

She nods, then turns to face some nail polish, aiming for the brightest options. 

It's been a while since she's done her nails. She used to love looking at her hands and seeing them colorful and filled with rings, it used to make her feel beautiful and delicate. Feminine. 

Zack used to love it as well, though, and to be honest at some point she stopped doing a lot of things Zack liked. Just because.

"Which one are you wearing today, then?"

"Why?" 

She shrugs. His voice is right behind her, but Aurora doesn't turn around to look at him. 

"'Cause you smell really nice." 

Maybe she could do her nails in Italy… Maybe one of the girls brought something with them. 

Or maybe she could get something herself…

The orange shades look nice…

She sighs, and steps away from the shelf. 

She can't. She shouldn't spend her money like that. She needs to be more careful now, especially since she spent a lot of unplanned money on that trip to Italy. 

She turns her head, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "So…?" 

Harry clears his throat. "Uh… Well… It's Guerlain."

Aurora twirls, holding her bag close to her body as her hair and dress follow her brisk movement.

"Cool! Let's find it, then." 

She walks away, and Harry's low chuckle echoes behind her. 

Although she can't see him, she feels his presence all the time, following her pace.

"What for?" he asks. 

"I don't know." She shrugs, looking from one side to the other. Scanning all the tiny duty-free shops. "I'm bored, I'm tired… Oh! There it is!" 

Her pace quickens, and so does Harry's.

Aurora only stops when she's in front of the Guerlain shelves, and then she turns around, staring at him with a smile on her face and pointing her arm to the many colognes displayed behind her. 

"Which one is yours?"

He clears his throat, and— 

Wait, is he blushing? 

Aurora purses her lips, holding herself back from laughing.

"It's L'Homme Idéal Extrême."

"Hmmm." She wiggles her eyebrows, and pulls one corner of her mouth up in a smirk. "Sounds sexy…" 

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunts, hiding his face behind both of his hands and shaking his head. 

Aurora laughs at his reaction, tapping his shoulder twice before turning on her feet and looking for his cologne. 

"What happened to you in the States, huh?" She leans down, squinting to read the names. "Never thought I would see Harry Styles getting all shy in front of me."

It takes him a moment to answer, but eventually he mumbles, "I've always been shy in front of you."

Aurora pauses for a moment, replaying his words in her mind. Images of them hanging out together pop up immediately — at the pub, at someone's apartment, after class, over the weekend. His cheeky glances, touchy hands and bold comments are always present, one way or another. He always craved attention, and people had no problem granting his wishes. 

It never bothered her, because he was young and had just joined university, but it certainly didn't paint him as a shy and reserved person. 

A snort leaves her mouth. "Yeah, right." 

She stands, and puts her hands on her waist. "What was the sexy name again?"

"L'Homme—" He sighs. "It's this one."

Aurora turns around, only to find Harry standing in the same place they were a minute ago. The shelf next to him is filled with bottles of the same cologne. Apparently, his cologne.

She gasps. 

"Harry!" She walks towards him, and Harry shakes his head in soft laughter, scratching the back of his neck. "I was standing right next to it and you didn't tell me!"

"It's just a very common cologne, Auri." He laughs, again. It sounds kind of shaky, though, and she frowns, stopping on her track. "I don't… Why are we looking for it?"

Uh… 

Well… To be honest… She doesn't have an answer for that. 

She doesn't know why they're looking for it. She is just joking. She just wanted to pass the time because she is exhausted, and because the longer she spends around people, the more afraid she is of falling apart at any moment. She thought maybe she could try it on, see if his cologne would smell as well on her skin as it smelled on his… Who knows… She was just… She wasn't thinking, okay? She was just being her stupid self.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't just messing around. Harry looks actually nervous. 

Her jokes are making him nervous. 

She is making him uncomfortable. 

In the middle of an airport, filled with people. 

Shit.

And she's done it twice now. 

First with the necklace… Now with the cologne… 

Fuck.

How many more times till he reaches his breaking point? 

How many more times till she finally pushes him through the edge? 

How many more times till she puts him in a position where he won't be able to stop himself from snapping at her?

Her hands shake, and her stomach quivers. 

"Yeah, no, I mean…" She shakes her head and smiles at him, closing her hands into fists and placing them behind her back. "You're right. Sorry. I—I'm really sorry. Hm… I think I… I should get a coffee."

Harry flinches his head back. "Wait  what?"

"Coffee. It'll keep me awake." She walks around him, and Harry follows her movements. 

"Auri, but what… Hey! What about my cologne?"

She waves it off. "Yeah, I know. I was just being annoying." 

She moves towards the exit of the duty-free, where all the departure gates are, and another yawn breaks through her lips. 

"Yep." She chuckles. "Definitely need some coffee."

"Auri," Harry calls, catching up with her. "Hey, stop. C'mon. Something just happened."

"What do you mean?" Aurora laughs. 

She flexes her fingers, curling and uncurling them. Her eyes wander around the airport, looking for a coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

She needs a coffee shop. She needs to get herself together. She needs to busy herself with something before she does something silly and stupid again. 

"I… I don't know. Why did you change your mind?"

Harry walks next to her, and she offers him a smile. 

"About what?"

"What do you mean about what? About my cologne, Auri!"

Aurora flinches.

"Sorry. Yeah, no, right. The cologne. Yeah. I just… I made you uncomfortable and I was being childish. Sorry."

"I wasn't uncomfortable, Auri, I just—"

"I know."

"Auri, no, listen—" 

"Harry." She turns around and smiles, then places one hand on his elbow. "It's fine. You don't need to explain yourself. I just… I really, really need a coffee right now. I haven't slept all night, so… Yeah. I'd just like to get a coffee. If you don't mind."

She lets go of his elbow, and Harry sighs. 

"Ok, yeah. Let's get you some coffee, then."

They walk forward, side to side, and Harry speaks again. 

"Do you still drink caramel coffee?"

Aurora widens her eyes. 

"Wow… That's back from… Well, a long time ago."

It's small, and kind of timid, but Harry smiles, and then shrugs. "Used to get you one at least once a week, didn't I?"

"You did, yeah." She smiles back at him and nods, then faces forward again. There's a coffee shop only three stores ahead, and it seems to be already open. Thank God. "To be honest I can't remember the last time I had one. I drink plain black coffee now."

Harry nods, and they both walk in silence, side by side — always side by side.

It shouldn't be uncomfortable, but Aurora's chest is heavy, and her mind seems foggy. 

Truth be told, she thought she would have more time before she started disappointing her friends, before letting them know how much she's changed and how uninteresting she's become.

Meeting Harry at the airport got in between her plans, though. And she could feel herself breaking little by little each second. Having to face the memories of someone she used to be, someone she liked to be, but also someone she isn't anymore. And someone she can't be anymore. 

Looking at her feet, she bites the inside of her lip. She was acting like a child at the duty-free, wasn't she? Jumping around, excited about his cologne… 

God. She hasn't even left the country yet, and she's already ruining things. 

She needs to control herself. 

She isn't a teenager anymore. She can't embarrass him. She doesn't want to embarrass him. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry asks, and she stops walking.

They're in front of the coffee shop, but Aurora wouldn't have realized if it weren't for him.

She shakes her head. "No, I'll just get myself a coffee."

"Let me get it for you."

What?

She takes a step back. "Absolutely not."

Harry's smile falters, but he doesn't give up. "C'mon… Like the old times! Yeah?"

"No, Harry. I mean, thanks, but no. I can pay for mine."

"I know you can pay for yours, I don't—"

"Please." She shakes her head and looks down to the floor. "It's just a silly coffee. I can get it for me. Okay?"

Harry frowns. 

"Ok? Yeah." 

Aurora nods, looks at the shop, then back to the floor. "Are you getting anything?"

"No, I'll just wait here."

"Okay," she whispers, forcing a smile before turning around and walking away.

It's crazy to see how much Harry has changed.

That's all Aurora can think about while she stands in line and watches him type on his phone. 

He's still outside, waiting for her, and seems deeply engaged with his conversation, frowning while his fingers move rapidly. 

No more black skinny jeans, no more vintage t-shirts or Chelsea boots. No more curls that are longer than her own hair. No more thin shoulders nor skinny arms. 

His baggy pants — wide legged, high-waisted — are beige, his cute shoes are yellow, and she still can't get over the flamingo shirt he's wearing.

He looks older, too. Brooding features, chiseled cheekbones, growing stubble. His face is perfectly carved, his traces have hardened, and there is something very manly about the way he stands there, focusing on typing on his phone. 

It isn't just his physical appearance, though. He acts like a grown-up, too. There's something about the way he simply exists that screams how much he's changed. You would never tell the man standing outside is the same boy who used to make stupid bets with his roommates from uni. But it's clear that Harry isn't a boy anymore, and that he's turned into a man.

And Aurora wasn't prepared to deal with that. 

Aurora lowers her chin and rubs her eyes.

She is being ridiculous. 

Why would she need to be prepared for that? 

Of course Harry grew up! How old is he now, anyway? 29? 30? Of course he isn't the same anymore. 

She should focus on how nice it is to see him again, not about stupid things. 

Who would've thought she would actually meet him at the airport? Who would've thought they'd end up sharing the flight? Standing in line with him, hopefully getting some seats next to each other… She should appreciate having a friend by her side. That's all. 

Aurora can't remember why he stopped hanging out with the group, though, and now she can't stop thinking about it. She has absolutely no idea about anything that could be going on with his life. It was as if Harry had grown more and more distant with time, until he wasn't there at all.

She's still pretty sure the last time she saw him was at her and Zack's wedding. She remembers someone telling her he'd moved to the United States, but why wasn't she at his graduation? It didn't make sense. Especially considering how, around a year later, he was kind enough to send them a basket when Noah was born.

They weren't the closest friends, and they were in very different stages of their lives when they met, sure, but they were part of the same group, and she used to have a soft spot for him. Just like she used to have a soft spot for Niall. 

Usually, when they were all at the pub, everyone would leave and the three of them would stay behind, chatting and laughing until Aurora felt her lids closing by themselves and they would walk her home. They both used to make her laugh all the time, and she actually loved spending those moments with them. 

Until she met Zack, of course, and then she started spending her nights with him. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't about him. Maybe she had grown more and more distant, until she wasn't around anymore. At all.

She knows it's something she's done with everyone else, at least. The girls would knock on her door from time to time, though, and she couldn't run from everyone whilst living in the same city, but Harry flying overseas was a different situation. So it makes sense they didn't keep up with their friendship. 

It makes sense, but it still bothers her. 

It bothers her because she forgot how easy, and fun, and electrifying it was to be around him. She forgot how affectionate, attentive, kind, and friendly he was. She forgot how spontaneous and cheerful she used to be with him. She forgot how much she enjoyed his carefree and easygoing way of looking at life. She forgot… 

Well, to be honest, it's like she just forgot about him. 

And how could she forget about him?

Harry used to be such a great friend. 

Just like Niall. 

But somehow different. 

Because there's something about the way Harry looks at her that she never found in Niall's eyes. It has something to do with Harry's curiosity, probably. How much he cares about details. How he likes to know more about people, about things, about everything. 

"Next?" the lady behind the counter shouts.

Aurora shakes her head, and darts her eyes away from Harry. 

She has no idea how much time she just spent staring at him. She didn't even notice she was doing it, to be honest. And she can only hope he didn't notice, as well.

The woman behind her taps her shoulder.

"That's you, miss," she says. 

Aurora widens her eyes and steps forward.  "Oh, yes, sorry… Hi!" 

Their flight is delayed. 

Aurora laughs, and rubs her fingers on her forehead. 

"And I was worried I'd be late," she murmurs.

They've been hanging out by their gate for at least half an hour now. Harry sits next to her, their bags placed together on his opposite side. He's leaning back comfortably, arms crossed on top of his abdomen and legs spread open in front of him. 

He nudges her arm with his elbow, then asks, "What was that?"

She shakes her head and waves him off with one hand, then double taps her phone with the other, lighting up the screen. 

It's 6:30. 

Noah should be waking up by now. Or at least Zack should be trying to wake him up. 

She unlocks her phone and opens up the app to text him. She takes a deep breath in, and her fingers hover the screen. She needs to be careful with her words, because she doesn't want him to think she doesn't trust him with Noah. That would be unfair with him. And it's not even about that. Of course it's not! She knows Noah's safe with his dad. She swears she never questioned him as a father. Whatever happened between them as a couple would never change the fact that Zack loves Noah to death. 

Aurora knows that. Really! The only reason why she wants to know how they're doing is because Noah has never woken up at his dad's new place, and because she knows what a long and emotional process it can be to wake him up. That's all. 

She bites her bottom lip, and types the same questions again and again, until she's happy with the way she's phrased them.

Hii! 

How are you guys doing?

How was Noah's first night over there? Did you guys have fun?

She sends the messages, and reads them over. And over, and over. 

That was good, wasn't it? She sounded friendly, right? She wasn't attacking him, right? He wouldn't be mad at her, right?

"I'll be right back," Harry says, getting up from his seat. He moves past her quickly, looking at his own hand and sliding his finger through the screen of his phone before taking it to his ear. "Hey… Yeah, I know… No, you listen to me…"

Harry doesn't sound happy — at all — and Aurora frowns. She watches him walk away, blending between people, then glances back to her phone.

No signs of Zack yet. Which is fine. Of course. It's not even been a minute. Actually, Aurora is usually so absorbed by Noah in the mornings that she doesn't check her phone until she drops him off at preschool. So it's fine. Really.

Hopefully he'll be able to make him have breakfast by 7:15, though. Otherwise they won't get there on time. Should she remind him of that? No, that's stupid. Zack is not stupid, and she always drives him insane for reminding him of the obvious little details. 

Maybe he won't even take him to preschool. Maybe he'll drive him over to his parents, instead. 

Or maybe she should just trust him. Maybe this would be the time he'd follow through with a promise he'd made.

Another yawn sneaks up on her. She slides down on her seat and rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. 

Maybe she should accept Harry's offer and take a quick nap on his shoulder. She brushed the idea off minutes ago, but now she can't deny it sounds really tempting. 

God… How is she supposed to spend two days on a yacht? She's never been on one before. She also hasn't been around all her friends in a very long time… 

Is she going to be able to interact with them? Because if they're expecting her to act the same way she used to before getting married… Well, they'll be extremely disappointed.

The only thing about Aurora that'll resemble those old days are the clothes Maddie packed for her. 

Shit. Oh shit. Oh… Fuck! Her clothes. No, no, no. Shit! She is going to kill Madison. 

She can't wear all those clothes in front of Harry! There is no fucking way she'll walk in front of him in a bikini, or wearing those silk and backless dresses. There is absolutely no fucking way she's going to wear those tops that almost don't cover her breasts in front of him. 

Well, not just in front of him, of course…

She's thinking about Harry because he's the one with her right now, but she doesn't want to wear those clothes in front of anyone. Not just him. 

It isn't even about the people, really. It's about her body. A body that has changed a lot through the years. 

Oh, boy… She needs to sleep. She can't start spiraling about how unsexy she's been feeling for years. It's not the moment for that. It's not what the weekend is about. 

"Are you sleeping with your eyes open?" Harry's low and deep voice sounds right next to her ear, and Aurora jumps on her seat. 

Harry chuckles behind her, then makes his way around her seat. 

"Shit," she murmurs, taking her hand to her chest, but a shaky laugh still leaves her mouth. "You scared me."

He stops in front of her and furrows his brows, then tilts his head to the side and curves his mouth into a cheeky smile, narrowing his eyes to look at her. 

"What?" she asks. 

He doesn't move, though. 

And he also doesn't stop staring at her. 

Aurora shifts on her seat. 

But the staring still doesn't stop.

"Harry!" She chuckles, and looks away. 

And he still doesn't even flinch.

Oh, c'mon! That's ridiculous. 

It's like going back to university, honestly. He used to do the same when they were younger, usually at a pub or a club. He would stare at her like that until she stumbled over her own words, or until she forgot what she was about to do. He thought it was hilarious, but she never understood the point of it. 

"Knock it off, will ya?" She crosses her arms on top of her chest and rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking."

Harry (finally) laughs, face lighting up again — with dimples and wrinkles and almost fully-closed eyes.

He moves his arm, and puts a paper cup in front of her face. 

Aurora snaps her brows together.

"Sorry, love, I was just testing my skills," he says.

Aurora flinches her head back.

Why is he shoving that cup in her eyes? 

And also… "What skills?"

He shrugs. "Y'know, to rile you up just by looking at you." 

Harry presses his lips together, as if he can't wait to burst out laughing.

And Aurora knows that face, because Noah does the exact same thing. The cheeky little monster loves to surprise her, but he can never hold up a lie. He gives out the entire thing just by looking at her with the same excitement on his face. 

They honestly look the same. Except Noah is only four, and Harry a thirty-year-old man.

"Ha ha," she mocks him, looking away from his silly face. "You and my four-year-old son would be great friends."

"Aww!" Harry takes his seat next to her, chuckling and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. "I'm sure we would." 

She rolls her eyes. 

Harry squeezes her cheek against his chest, and she's so close to his body that she can smell the soap and cologne emanating from his skin. He smells good. Like a fresh shower. It's a nice combination, something both strong and smooth at the same time.

Shit.

She pulls away, and shakes her head. 

"It wasn't a compliment," she murmurs. 

Harry chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that." He withdraws his arm from around her shoulders and takes it back to his side, then puts his hand back in front of her face. The one holding a paper cup. "Now, this is for you."

Aurora raises her eyebrows. 

"And what's this supposed to be, exactly?" 

"Just try it." 

She doesn't make any movement to acknowledge his request, but Harry also doesn't make any movement to hint he'll stop shoving the cup on her face. Eventually, she sighs, and her entire body falls. 

"Harry…" 

"Oh, c'mon! Just a sip. Amuse me, yeah?"

Aurora glances at his hand, then back at his face. She presses lips together, then finally uncrosses her arms and lifts one of them to reach the cup, curling her fingers around it. 

For the sake of not ruining her mood, she ignores the way he cheers, or how he grins proudly before leaning his back against the backrest of his seat. She simply clutches the cup between both hands, instead, and its warmth is a high contrast with her cold skin. She can't help but hum at the feeling, and then she shivers, even her chin trembling a little. 

A timid chuckle escapes from her mouth, and she closes her eyes. She brings the cup up to her face and puts her nose close to the lid, breathing the flavor in. 

And just like that, her chest tightens. 

The smell is unmistakable, a combination between coffee and caramel that she would recognize anywhere, anytime. 

She blinks her eyes open, and turns her head to look at him. 

Harry is watching her attentively, without any traces of amusement or playfulness surrounding him anymore.

Aurora blinks a couple of times, gathering enough strength to ask him, "Did you… Did you get me a caramel coffee?" 

He nods once, only one side of his mouth lifting up. "Yeah."

She looks back at the cup in her hands, and blinks again. 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says, softly. "Intuition, maybe. I know you already had your black coffee, but I… I don't know. I felt like you needed it? I don't know. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it sounds stupid. Is that okay? Hope I didn't—"

She nods rapidly — unable to speak, but also desperate for him to stop explaining himself. 

And thankfully, he does. 

Aurora doesn't know what to say about it, though. She doesn't even know if there's anything she can say about it. 

His words don't sound stupid to her. That's for sure. The thing is that Harry doesn't understand the meaning his gesture actually holds, which scares her. He was able to pick up on something she needed when she wasn't brave enough to admit it to herself in the first place. And it was something so trivial… It was just coffee. Coffee.

"Noah does that sometimes, y'know," Aurora murmurs, looking at the mass of people in front of them. She hunches down a bit, not bothering by her awful posture as she comforts herself with the hot beverage in between her hands. Changing the subject is the only way she knows how to answer him right now, so she keeps going. "Sleeping with his eyes half open. It freaks me out."

Harry hums.

"There's a name for that, isn't it?" 

His voice is as soft and calm as before, and Aurora nods.

"Yeah, nocturnal something… I don't know. I always forget the stupid word." She rolls her eyes, and a humorless laugh leaves her mouth, making her body shake. "How do people even choose these names, huh? Why bother naming it if it's gonna be some ridiculous word no-one can even pronounce?"

"That's… Yeah, I don't know. You have a point, though."

"Sorry," she whispers, looking down at her lap. "Zack drives me insane using all those terms all the time. Makes me feel stupid."

Harry doesn't say anything, but for once the silence between them doesn't feel uncomfortable. 

She exhales the frustration out of her body, taking the cup to her mouth and sipping carefully in case it burns her tongue. 

The coffee touches her lips, and its sweetness automatically invades all of her senses. Her tongue tastes the caramel, and there's something bitter behind it, but it is mostly mellow and buttery. Just like she remembers it. 

And just like that, she's remembering all of it. 

She's flooded with memories from the comfort of home, and about the fun of living. Memories with simpleminded thoughts and unpretentious actions. 

She's back to a place where she isn't scared of speaking her mind all the time, where she isn't afraid of letting people down by her silly behavior, where she isn't terrified of her personality being the embarrassment of those around her. She's back to a place where she knows her friends and family like her for who she is, and where she's proud of her because of that. 

She's full of affectionate touches, sincere words, and genuine feelings.

There's confidence inside her, and an entire world she's willing to find out. 

And when she finally gulps down the simplest sip of caramel coffee, warmth takes over her throat. It reverberates through every inch of her body, and she shivers — her body filling with goosebumps as she closes her eyes to the paradoxical feeling. 

A moment passes, and the weight of a soft textured fabric lands on her back.

"Before you say anything," Harry's deep voice murmurs next to her, and she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm not wearing it. And it's driving me insane seeing you so cold, so please just wear it."

Aurora glances at her shoulders, finding Harry's checked jacket covering her skin. It feels good, and it feels warm. And she actually doesn't mind it. At all. But there's something about the way Harry has just talked to her that flies directly into Aurora's heart. 

Maybe it's the softness of his voice. Or maybe how worried he sounded. Or maybe the fact that he seems to pay attention to her. Or maybe just because he acts as if he knows her so well. Even after so many years without talking to her. Or seeing her.

Or maybe it's just because she's already on edge because of the damn caramel coffee he bought especially for her.

She doesn't know exactly what it is, but something in his words triggers her into instantly tearing up. She can't help the overreaction, and before she can figure out a way to hide it, the evidence of her crying falls down her cheek, and she's taking a hand up to wipe it off her.

"Auri, hey…" 

Harry's hand lands on her back. The last push she needs to turn into an emotional wreck. A sob bursts out of her chest, and she covers her mouth. Oh my God. 

"Auri, love, I'm sorry… Did I… I can get the jacket back, I didn't—"

She shakes her head and puts the coffee between her thighs, then takes both hands up to her face. She uses her palms to wipe down the tears from her cheeks, and a long and shaky sigh leaves her mouth. 

Harry takes the cup from between her legs, putting it down on the floor before shifting closer to her. His knees bump into the side of her thigh, and the hand that isn't on her back brushes softly her jaw, getting rid of another tear.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispers. "You're fine. You didn't… You didn't do anything wrong."

The last thing she wants is for him to see her like that. They haven't seen each other for so long… She doesn't want to welcome him back to her life with tears and drama. She also doesn't want him to feel guilty about something that has nothing to do with him. 

"Ok…" He sounds wary, and while one hand rubs circles on her back, the other grabs her hand. "What's going on, tho? What can I do to help?" 

Once again, Aurora shakes her head. "I'm… I'm fine. I think I'm just… I'm  just exhausted from not sleeping last night."

It isn't a lie, but it also isn't the truth. She doesn't want to admit how lonely she constantly feels, because she wants to learn how to be alone. It doesn't make sense to ask for help when all she wants is to learn how to not need help.

"Why didn't you sleep?" 

"It's nothing. Really… Don't worry about me, I'm just being dramatic right now."

He strokes his thumb up and down on the back of her hand, and Aurora sighs, leaning into the warmth of his jacket. 

Warmth. Apparently that's all she craves now. 

"Of course I worry about you, Auri. And I'm here if you need anything, ok?" 

She nods, but his care for her brings another wave of tears, and she hides behind one hand while the other holds tightly onto him. 

"C'mere," he murmurs, dragging the hand on her back to her shoulder and pulling her to his chest. 

She can't believe the amount of times she's been hugged by him in merely a couple of hours, but she doesn't fight him. In fact, she does quite the opposite: she snuggles into him and cries quietly. And when Harry squeezes her shoulders, she squeezes his fingers in response. 

"Talk to me, love, please. What's going on?"

She sniffs. "Nothing…"

He rubs her arm, softly and tenderly, then carefully adds, "I don't wanna force you, but I can tell something's up and I'm worried about you."

Aurora shakes her head, feeling the desperation in her body slip out of her mouth as she cries to him. "Please don't... I don't want… I don't wanna worry you, ok? I really don't. I don't want to bother you. I'm just… Overreacting. I'll be fine. I'll be—"

"Auri, that's not—"

"Yes. Yes it is. It's just—"

"Stop doing that," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "You keep shutting me off every time I try to explain myself."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry—"

"Auri—

"—I'm so sorry—"

"—It's okay—"

"—I really am—"

"Auri, hey!" He pulls back, grabbing her shoulders with both hands and forcing her to look at him. His eyes are warm and caring as he stares inside hers, but there's a frown all over his face that screams something different. Annoyance, perhaps? Or maybe… Frustration? "Listen to me. It's fine, ok? There's no need for you to apologize. It's fine."

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No…"

"Yes, it's fine, Auri."

"It's not—"

"Yes—" 

"No!" Aurora opens her eyes, but tears quickly blurry her sight. She blinks, and before she knows it, she's fully sobbing and crying again. "It's not fine! Ok?! I'm not… I'm not fine, Harry. I'm not! I'm falling apart and I just… It's like I can't stop… And I just… I hate it, ok? I really do… I keep letting everyone down. And I… Fuck… I have no idea how… How am I supposed to spend the entire weekend…. The entire weekend pretending my life isn't a mess right now? I just… I can't… I can't pretend… I'm not… I can't…"

There's only a beat of silence before Harry pulls her into his chest again, squeezing her shoulders while he takes a long, deep, and heavy breath in. Then exhales loudly through his nose. 

"I don't know what's going on with your life right now," he says softly, resting his chin on the top of her head and closing his eyes while she sobs into his chest. "And I know I haven't been around, but I'm here for you, ok?" 

And just like before, Aurora melts into him. She hugs his waist, and leans against his body despite the uncomfortable and public position they're in. Crying all the tears she's been holding in so far. Silently sharing with him all the hurt, the doubts, and the insecurities she's been feeling. All the blaming, the questioning, and the yelling she's been hiding. Letting him absorb the wreck she is turned into after six years of marriage. All the failures. All the mistakes. All the countless "should've done better", and also "should've tried harder".  She lets it all out. With no hold backs, nor regrets.

"And you don't have to pretend, Auri," he adds. "At least not to me. Not even a little bit. Never… Why would you even pretend, huh? I can't be there for you if you don't let me know your life's a mess, and I want to be there for you. You know I do, yeah?"

Aurora can't answer him, not when her body's turning everything inside her into tears and sobbing, but he doesn't seem to be waiting for any words. Nor reactions. He rubs her back gently, while still holding her tightly, and then just keeps talking. 

"Besides, I don't expect anything from you, so—I mean, wait… That's not—Shit. That didn't sound good."

And despite everything, despite all the pain and all the tears and all the fears, a soft and low chuckle escapes from Aurora's chest. 

"That came out wrong… It's not—It's not what I wanted to say. Because of course I expect things from you, like… You're brilliant. You're amazing. You can do amazing things if you want to, ok? I know you can. What I meant is that—That there's no pressure, y'know? That's all. And that no matter what you do or what you say, nothing will change... I mean, I haven't been around, but you don't have to pretend things are good if they aren't, y'know? I'll be your friend even if… I don't know… Even if everything's falling apart… Actually, I want to be there especially when everything's falling apart, ok? So yeah, I just—Jesus Christ." He sighs. "Fuck. Auri please tell me you know what I'm trying to say here because I'm just freaking myself out right now."

Aurora's chuckle turns into laughter, and she nods against his chest, taking one hand up to her face to wipe off the last few tears. 

"I do, yes." She clears her throat, trying to get rid of some of the scratchiness. "Relax. I got it from the beginning." 

Harry smiles and sighs again, squeezing her shoulders. "Could've said something, huh? Stop me there. Save me the embarrassment, maybe?"

"You said I kept cutting you off when you tried to explain yourself, so…" Aurora shrugs. 

"Ohh, I see. Okay." Harry laughs. "We should work on your timing, then. Smartass."

She smiles, and sniffs. "My timing's perfect. It was cute, and I was having fun."

"Of course you were."

Although she can't see him, the smile is obvious in his voice, and she sighs. A long and heavy sigh. One that's strong enough to relax her entire body, and that makes her close her eyes and drop her shoulders. 

"Thank you," she murmurs, still into his chest.

"Yeah," he murmurs back. "Anytime, love." 

There's a pause between them. And then Harry speaks again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, to be honest… At least not right now."

"Ok…" 

Another pause, and then… 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She takes a deep, long breath in, then exhales while snuggling into his chest.

"Can we just… Stay like this for another minute? Just… Y'know… In silence?"

"Hm… So you want me to shut up, is that it?"

Aurora chuckles. 

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but…"

Harry chuckles, too. 

"'S fine. I don't mind. We can stay like this for as long as you want."

And so they do. 

They hug for a while. In silence. A tight embrace that's simple, but that's also intense enough to let her know that he's there for her. 

Aurora can't remember the last time she's been held like this, with honest tenderness and affection. The kind of hug that she doesn't question, and that comes naturally. That feels natural. 

"This was supposed to be a fun weekend," she murmurs, curling a little bit more into him and closing her eyes to avoid facing the world. "Can't believe I'm seeing you for the first time in years and already bringing all this drama to you."

Harry chuckles lightly. 

"Don't be silly, ok? We've been over this already… We're friends and this is what friends are for." He kisses the top of her head, and then rests his cheek against the same place. "Besides, we didn't leave London yet. We can still have plenty of fun."

Aurora sighs. "God. I really need to have some fun. I miss having fun."

"I'll make sure you get more than some."

He squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora smiles.

Still with her eyes closed, and pressing her ear against his chest, she listens to his heartbeat, and to the way he breathes. He isn't calm, but he is steady, and somehow comfortable. So she focuses on him, and only him. As if mimicking his rhythm, or syncing with his pace, could make everything in her life feel better. 

Harry sighs against her, and when the thumping inside him gets faster, she pulls one arm from around his waist to rest her hand on the left side of his chest. She spreads her fingers open where his heart is, and breathes in and out slowly, hoping to calm him down again. 

He takes one hand to her neck, sliding it to the back of her head and tangling his fingers with her hair. 

As he scratches her scalp, Aurora can feel every muscle of her body fully relaxing. It's soothing. And it's safe. There's no other place she would rather be right now, and she's convinced that, as long as she's holding him and he's holding her, she'll finally relax and rest like she hasn't been able to in so long. 

"Have you always been such a great hugger?" she asks, her voice as soft and as slow as her body feels.

Harry clears his throat, then murmurs, "I don't know." 

Aurora hums. 

Another moment passes, until she breaks the silence again.

"I'm sorry for being a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend."

"But I am, tho. I have no idea what's going on with your life… It's been so long and I… I never reached out."

Harry sighs, and shifts on his seat. 

Aurora follows his movements, making sure the hug doesn't end even when he seems to be pulling away. 

He doesn't, though — pull away. He simply leans back on his seat, pulling her along with him. And because she's still comfortable against his chest, she doesn't see the way his face falls, how he presses his lips together in a hard line, or glares at random people passing by.

"It's fine," he eventually says. 

And she's so focused on her own past behavior, that she also doesn't notice the slight change in his voice.

"It's not, though."

"I never reached out either, did I? And I should have… I just… I should have." 

She fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, and although it takes her a moment to answer, the words fly easily out of her mouth. "I'm not sure if it would've made any difference, to be honest… I've pushed everyone away, would've done the same to you." 

"There's no fucking way I would've let you."

"It wouldn't be up to you, tho."

A ding-ding-dong blares from the speakers in the lounge area. 

"Attention passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Boarding is for business class and passengers with…"

The attendant's voice fades as Aurora stops paying attention to it. She blinks her eyes open and, against her wishes, pulls away from Harry's arms.

"Finally," she breathes out.

When she looks at him, she finds nothing but honesty and affection inside his eyes, and it's enough to make her heart skip a beat. 

She curves her lips into a smile, then brings her hands up to wipe the dry tears from her cheeks. "Thank you."

Harry smiles, too. "You've said that already."

"I know." She nods, dropping her hands back to her lap. "I just… Thank you, really. For now and… And for the coffee. Even though I forgot to drink it."

He takes one hand to her face, and puts some of her hair behind her ear.

"We'll have time for another one," he says, then stares into her eyes again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" She gulps down, captivated by his gaze. "I think… I think it'd be nice if we could catch up, right? I mean, there's so much about you that I don't know…" 

Harry smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"There isn't anything crazy to know about me."

Aurora furrows her brows. 

"Well I don't need crazy information, Harry," she scoffs, making sure the tone of her voice is carrying some playfulness while she rolls her eyes. "I just wanna know what's up with your life… Where do you live? Do you have any dogs, or cats? Where do you work? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any kids? Are you married? I don't know…"

Harry stares blankly at her for a moment, then looks away, reaching for their bags. 

"Those are too many questions, love."

Aurora shrugs. 

"Well, yeah…" She leans down and picks up her coffee. The cup feels cold, and although she's sad she didn't get to drink it, she wouldn't change anything about what happened in the last… Well, however long it's been since they got here. "I know. I'm curious. That's why I said it'd be nice to catch up."

She stands up and rearranges Harry's jacket, putting it on properly so it doesn't fall from her shoulders, then waits while he stands as well, picking their bags from the seat next to his.

"Ok, yeah. Sure. We can catch up." 

"Wow." She snorts and widens her eyes. "Calm down, now. Don't sound sooo excited, please."

Harry laughs. He puts his own bag on his shoulder, and she takes hers from his hand. 

"I'd love for us to catch up, Auri. I really would."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes at him, putting her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the line. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Harry follows her, grabbing his boarding pass and passport from the front pocket of his bag. "Why would I hide something from you?"

"I don't know…" She throws the coffee cup away, then adds, "Maybe you're working with the FBI. Or, maybe you're married to someone who works for the FBI. Ohhhhh," — she widens her eyes, looking at him while he leads their way to the gate — "or maybe, you're married to someone who's being investigated by the FBI!"

Harry chuckles through his nose. He sneaks his hands inside Aurora's bag, pulling her boarding pass and passport from it.

"There's no FBI involved, I promise," he says, handing her the items. 

"Hmmm…" She grabs her things from his hand, and nibbles her bottom lip before asking, "But you're married to someone?" 

"Nop." 

"Okay… Dating to someone?"

He shakes his head, and Aurora nods.

"Are relationships a touchy subject, maybe?"

Harry smirks, and that's more than enough to give Aurora an answer, but she still waits for him to say something. 

Anything.

"I broke up with someone not too long ago." He shrugs. "So I'm not in the mood for relationships right now, to be honest. And that includes talking about it." 

The line moves quickly, and they take a step forward. 

"Oh, sure. Yeah. I get it. Of course." Aurora nods. "I'm sorry, tho. Y'know, that it didn't work out."

He shrugs, and they walk again.

"'S fine." 

The shift in his behavior is loud and clear, and it bothers her. The idea of someone breaking Harry's heart deep enough for the pain to overshadow his excitement and dull the brightness of his smile doesn't feel right. So it bothers her. It really does. Whoever it was, he surely deserved someone much better. He surely deserves someone better.

A flight attendant welcomes them with a grin and a cheerful good morning. Aurora smiles back, and hands him her passport and boarding pass, then waits for him to return them. He wishes her a safe flight, and repeats the same process with Harry. 

Aurora waits for him in silence, and once they're both ready to walk through the airgate, she picks the conversation back on. 

"I'm sure you'll find someone, y'know? It won't be that hard. You're still young, and dating was never a problem for you, so…"

There's a pause, and then Harry snorts. "Dating was never a problem for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know… That's what you, Niall and Jayden used to do all the time, wasn't it? Dating and… Flirting and hooking up with everyone?"

Harry stops walking and turns to stare at her in silence, with widened eyes and flared nostrils. 

Aurora stops, too, biting her lip to hold back her amusement while waiting for him to say something. 

He doesn't, but he eventually laughs, throwing his head back and making her fully smile at him. He shakes his head, and starts walking again.

"Jeez, Auri, I'm so offended right now."

"Oh c'mon…" She chuckles, following his steps. "I meant it as a compliment, okay? Like… Girls were always into you, that's all."

"Not all girls, though."

"Fine." She shrugs. "Ninety-five percent of them, then."

He snorts again. "Ok."

"How old were you when we met? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, it was my second year. Why?"

"Nothing. I think… For a moment I just forgot you're so much younger than me, that's all."

"C'mon, not so much, I'm almost thirty now."

"Well, yes, but I'm thirty-five."

"See? Same age."

She chuckles. "We're not the same age."

"Ok, but almost."

"Not even close, Harry."

"Oh c'mon! Then what are you now? Ancient? Should I call you grandma?"

She chuckles. "Well… I do feel ancient, to be honest."

He rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous. You're just as young as I am."

She shakes her head. 

"Yeah, I mean, I know that… But I don't know… I mean, talking to you right now I don't feel like you're younger, y'know? Let alone that much. But also—"

"It's not that much."

"No, I know. But if you think about it, I already got married and I have a four-year-old at home, so like, I really am too old and—What?" Harry is frowning at her, and she tilts her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shrugs, then faces forward, away from her. "I'm trying to decide if I should kick your ass right now or just throw you into the ocean later."

She gasps, but then she chuckles. "What? Whyyy?"

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. "I'm only five years younger than you, Auri. Five. It's not even a big deal."

She sighs.

The line in front of them moves, and they move forward as well. 

"Sorry. You're right. Like I said, it doesn't feel like it right now, but I think… I don't know. When you were 19 and I was 24 it was different, yeah? I mean, we were in different stages of our lives. I was meeting Zack and you were—" 

"Yes, I know. I was there, remember?" 

She swallows down, and nods. 

"Sorry," she repeats, much softer this time. 

Aurora walks in silence, staring at the plane at the end of the hallway. 

She pretends to ignore the way Harry keeps glancing at her, or how he rubs the back of his neck, or how he rolls his shoulders. She knows she bothered him, and the idea of causing a scene when they're about to get into a plane feels terrifying. She should've kept her mouth shut, that way she wouldn't have them put them in that situation. Again.

It's like she's been riding on a rollercoaster she never knew she would get into in the first place. Going through multiple sudden changes of speed and directions. Slowly climbing a steep slope and painfully anticipating the fall before she actually drops directly into the ground. Holding herself during the unexpected tight turns and sharp curves, and gasping for air at every inverted loop. Experiencing the ups and downs of gravity as she's weightless and happy at the top of the hill, then all of a sudden her own personality is pushing her back down to reality. And by the end of it, the back of her throat hurts, her stomach feels funny, and there's just heaviness all over her body. 

"Hey," Harry calls. 

He shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other and puts his arm around her, pulling her closer even though they're still walking. He kisses the top of her head, and keeps his lips there as he speaks. "'M sorry. Shouldn't have cut you off like that."

Aurora shrugs. "It's fine." 

"It's not. We were just joking and I… I took it personally, 'm sorry."

He kisses her head, again, and her lashes flutter. 

She knows he's sorry, but she doesn't know what to say to him. She knows how easy it is for her to forgive when she shouldn't, and how many times in the last six years she believed in empty apologies. 

So although she knows, she isn't sure she can trust herself. 

She hasn't been trusting herself for a while now. 

A new flight attendant welcomes them into the plane, and they both pull away from each other.

Aurora walks in front of Harry, and she does her best to smile genuinely at the cheerful woman that's wishing them a good morning and a good flight. 

She holds the strap of her bag tightly on her shoulder, and walks through the narrow carpeted aisle, focusing on the numbers and letters above the seats as if she's looking for specific ones. She pauses here and there for other passengers that are getting settled, and it's only past the emergency door that Harry speaks again.

"Should we sit here?" he asks. He's pointing to the opposite side where she's facing, so she turns around, finding three empty seats.  

"Okay." 

She nods, and tilts her chin up to check the space to put her bag. Harry is quicker, though, because he is already closing his fingers around the strap on her shoulder and pushing it away from her arm.

"I'll put our bags together, yeah?" 

She doesn't want to fight him about it, so she simply thanks him with the best smile she can offer and allows him to easily grab her duffel bag. 

She slides through the two empty seats to reach the one by the window, not waiting any longer to secure the seat belt and make herself comfortable. Once she's settled, she clasps her hands together, and takes a deep breath in. Her chin trembles, and she looks down, biting the inside of her cheek. She doesn't want to cry again. She really doesn't want to cry again.

Also, she needs to sleep. She must get some sleep. There is absolutely no way she is going to handle spending the entire day awake, and if she doesn't sleep now, she'll only get an opportunity again at the yacht — meaning she won't get to spend any time with her friends. 

Harry sits next to her and puts his own belt on, then turns off his phone and shoves it into his pocket. Aurora doesn't look at him, but he turns sideways anyway, leaning his shoulder on the back of the seat and blocking them from any possible curious eyes. 

He grabs one of her hands from her lap and takes her fingers to his mouth, placing a long kiss to her knuckles before sighing. 

"Auri, love," his voice is soft, and a whisper for only them to hear, "I really am sorry." 

She nods, taking her free hand to wipe a tear before it could roll down her cheek.  

Shit.

"Please, don't cry."

"Mhm."

"Auri… Look at me, please."

She shakes her head, then. Because she knows that she'll fall apart all over again if she looks at him.

God, she's so tired.

"I didn't…" she murmurs, then takes a deep breath and tries again. "I didn't mean anything bad by the age thing… I promise."

"I know that, love. Of course I know," he says, pressing another kiss to her hand. "Fuck. I know. We were just joking. And I'm not mad about it, I promise. I mean, I was actually a stupid hormonal teenager back when we met, so yeah… You're right, things were different. But please, Auri, I hate that I made you cry just because I… Shit, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It wasn't about you, I promise."

She stares at her knees and nods, because she knows he is. And she also knows she can trust him, which is probably why she — finally — honestly blurts out, "I keep messing everything up, y'know? All the time."

He brushes his thumb on the back of her hand, then murmurs back to her, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I just… I keep letting everyone down, and I hate it, but it's like I can't stop it. And I mean, to be honest I don't… I don't even recognize myself anymore. I used to have so much fun, and I felt so different about life… And I treated people around me so differently… And now I'm just… I don't know… I don't know why I say things, or why I do things. I don't know what I want, or what to do with my life… And I feel so… Lonely… All the damn time. But I get why I'm lonely, y'know? I mean it's true that I don't know how to be anything else besides being Noah's mum. And I'm so insensitive to other people because of that, and I keep saying things I shouldn't and I just… I look back and I realize how I pushed everyone away… How I… I don't know, I'm so tired of this. I'm just so tired of myself."

There is a pause between them, mostly because Harry's waiting for the people in front of them to settle and stop prying at their conversation. 

It's good, though, because it gives her time to catch her breath again.

And then, Harry leans deeper into his seat, still holding tightly to her hand.

"Is that how he made you feel?"

Aurora furrows her brows. "What—Who?"

"Zack. Is that how Zack made you feel?"

"I… No! Why—I mean, I'm just… I'm talking about myself." 

"Auri, c'mon… I know you're talking about yourself, but I can read between the lines."

She closes her eyes and takes her hand up to her face, rubbing her forehead while she prepares herself to just keep blurting out what her mind is begging her to tell him.

"I think…" she says, dropping her hand back to her lap and blinking. "I think he really messed me up, y'know?"

Harry sighs. 

It takes him a moment to say something. A moment that feels really, really long to her. 

And then… 

"Fuck." He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest, murmuring while resting his cheek on the back of her head, "I'm sorry."

She shrugs, snuggling into him and searching for his heartbeat, just like before.

"'S not your fault."

"But I should've been there for you."

"You wouldn't have known." 

"Still�� This isn't how it was supposed to be." 

God, she's so tired… 

Her entire body is heavy, and she doesn't even know what's happening around them anymore. She can't even make sense of their conversation anymore. 

Harry feels too cozy, though, and she knows she's about to have the comfiest sleep of her life — she can feel it.  

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I got divorced six months ago."

Harry closes his eyes, then rearranges himself on his seat and pulls her closer to him.

"I know."

.

.

.

"You know? How?" 

"Niall."

"Oh. Okay?" 

"I texted him while you were getting your coffee."

She places her hands on his hips, holding her weight to pull away from him. 

Harry doesn't let her, though, squeezing her inside of his arms and locking her in. 

"Please stay," he murmurs. 

And Aurora doesn't fight him. She just relaxes again — she relaxes and listens to him. 

"You weren't wearing a ring… And I could tell something was up, so I… I asked him. That's all. Sorry if I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know."

"Oh…" The concept of time is foggy inside her mind, but she's pretty sure a few seconds go by before she speaks again. "'S okay, I guess. I mean… Niall knows about the divorce, but he doesn't… He doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know how bad it was."

"Does anyone know?"

"You?" She chuckles, but it's humorless, because she knows that not even Harry truly knows. "I just… I haven't been able to talk about it yet, or like… Process it, I think. I don't know. I keep justifying him a lot, which I'm learning it's something I shouldn't do."

He makes his cheek comfortable on top of her head, then takes one hand to play with her hair, scratching her scalp. "It can't be easy to go through something like this on your own, tho."

"I know…" She closes her eyes, appreciating his affectionate touch. "My mum's helping me a lot… She had to go back home now, but she spent over a month with me. Makes sure I don't skip therapy… Stuff like that."

"Hmm…" Harry says, and his voice echoes inside her body. "Always liked her. Smart one."

Aurora curls her mouth up. "Yeah…" 

Another moment goes by, and Aurora is filled with lightness as her body slowly drifts into sleep. 

"Thank you for telling me this, Auri."

"Mhmm… It's weird… To like, talk about it."

"I'll always listen. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"Thank you… 'M really tired, tho... And I think my brain is going to explode…"

Harry chuckles. "Get some sleep, yeah? I'll wake you up when we're about to land."

"'Mkay." She hugs his waist, and nuzzles against his chest. "Can't believe this all happened and we didn't even leave the country yet."

"Tell me about it."

"Mm… 'Kay… I'll sleep now… You're comfy… And I think… I feel drunk…"

Chuckling again, Harry presses a kiss on the top of her head, then slides down a bit on his seat, and she cuddles a little bit more into him.

"Ok love," he says. "You can relax now, I got you." 

And although Aurora doesn't answer, she knows he does. 

She doesn't need Harry to wake her up. 

Her brain drifts back to consciousness by itself, slowly making her aware of her surroundings way before the plane is even close to landing. 

She's warm, because of Harry's arms wrapped around her shoulders, but also because of his jacket covering her body. Her face is pressed against his shirt, and once again she's breathing from his skin. He still smells good — like a fresh shower — but now it's also mixed with a little bit of sweat, so it's somehow even better than before. 

It's hot. He's hot. Her insides feel hot.

She's also comfortable — so, so comfortable. It feels like she just took the best nap of her entire life. Like she's enveloped by a sense of calm and peace, a feeling that she doesn't want at all to end. Snuggled into his chest while his fingers keep playing with her hair, tracing random patterns on the back of her head. The movements are sweet, sweet enough to tempt her to go back to sleep. And she almost does. 

Except she can't. Not anymore. 

Because above all that, she can tell she's also kind of desperate. Clingy. Needy. Hugging his waist as if their flight landing in Italy depended on how tight her grip is. Both of her legs over his left thigh. His strong, firm thigh. She's holding onto him like a baby koala. A troubled one. A baby koala that's craving to be held by someone. Anyone. And as if she's terrified of the idea of being left behind while her mind shuts off from the real world. 

And maybe she is. Who knows.

She always liked to cuddle, and she hasn't properly cuddled in a really long time, so it's not a surprise. Still, it very quickly becomes embarrassing, and certainly not how Harry imagined things to go when, earlier in the airport, he offered his shoulder for her to take a quick nap. 

He offered his shoulder, not his entire body, for fucks sake!

So, against all wishes, Aurora stirs and groans — mostly because her mind is battling between sleeping for just two more minutes or acknowledging the reality of the world she's in — then pulls away from him. 

"Hmm…" She takes her hands up to her face, and rubs the last traces of sleepiness away from her puffy eyes, then sits back on her seat. "What time is it?" 

Next to her, Harry moves as well, withdrawing his arms from around her shoulders and placing his hands on his lap. 

"Must be around ten thirty now… Last time I checked was ten fifteen."

He sounds calm, so calm that she can't make any emotion out of his voice, so she turns her head to look at him.

Harry looks fully awake. Well rested. Peaceful. Soft. The only sign of him turning into her personal pillow are the wrinkles all over his shirt, but everything else looks… Perfect. Like heaven. He looks like heaven.   

"Hi…" He curls one side of his mouth up, and Aurora smiles, too.

"Hi…"

Only then it occurs to her that she's been staring at him, and she looks away, taking her hands to smooth out her hair then fix her dress.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nods, and takes his jacket off, instead using it like a blanket to cover her chest.

"Um, yeah… I did. Thanks. And thanks for… You know… Letting me crush on you? I mean, it probably wasn't comfortable for you, so… Yeah, thanks."

Harry scoffs, shuffling down on his seat and spreading his legs as wide open as he can. 

"Are you kidding me?" He takes both arms up and places his hands behind his head, resting on top of the palm of his hands. "You're a great cuddler. Went straight to my top five of all time."

The playfulness is clear in his words, which is why Aurora chuckles. Still, one question is loud and clear inside her mind: who are the other four great cuddlers? And most importantly, why isn't she his favorite one? 

The thoughts bring an uncomfortable feeling to her stomach, and she shifts on her seat. 

"That's kind of you to say, but you should see me during winter in the middle of the night… I'm like a baby koala and it's not a very pretty sight." 

"Huh." He smirks, and lifts his eyebrows. "Is that an offer?"

Aurora snorts and rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn before she looks away. "Shut up."

Harry laughs, and just like that, everything between them goes back to normal. 

Getting into conversation with him is easy. Neither of them have seen their friends in a while, so they distract themselves by reminiscing old stories and laughing at silly things they used to do together. They also talk about Italy, about how neither of them have been to the country before, and how it's been a dream of both of them. They bond over small details, and find connections over silly things. And it's exactly what Aurora needs, as she finds out after minutes and minutes of light conversation and genuine giggles. 

It is only when they're about to land that her face falls again. 

Fully awake, the airplane movements become way more obvious than they did when taking off. And as soon as the belt sign goes on, and the pilot announces they're about to descend to Naples, Aurora's heartbeat speeds up.

She straightens up and leans her back fully against her seat, looking through the window at the bright sky. 

"Are you ok?" Harry asks. 

"Mhm…" She nods, and doesn't take her eyes off from the view. "Just… I don't like this part very much, that's all."

"Wanna hold my hand?" 

It is a nice offer, but one she doesn't think she should accept. So she doesn't. And as the plane gets closer and closer to land, every movement becomes even more clear. When it shakes, when it turns, when it's getting ready to touch the ground. 

She holds herself until the last minute. She holds herself tightly and firmly. Until it becomes too much, and one specific up and down of the airplane has her reaching for his hand.

It's like Harry is already waiting for her, to be honest, because she finds him quickly. Her sweaty and cold palm meets his warm one, and she turns her head to look at him. 

He's already watching her, and as soon as their eyes meet, his face lights up with a smile. 

Her belly quivers, and her chest tightens. 

"It'll be over in a minute," he says, squeezing her hand.

She nods, and swallows down, because it's the only thing she can do right now. She knows what he's talking about, and she knows it's true — they'll land, and everything will pass. 

Although something tells her that, whatever she's feeling right now, will not go away. It won't be over in a minute. It won't be over even when they're out and away from the plane. 

In fact, she's starting to believe that, as soon as Harry is next to her, looking at her like that, the fluttering in her stomach will never go away. 

if you've made it here, say caramel coffee :')

also, thank you for reading.

dani :)

PART THREE

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 2

For @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“How is this organized, anyway?” asked Daniel.  “It isn't alphabetical.”

Clockwork shuddered.  “The debate about which alphabet to use would be interminable.  No.  The list is arranged from eldest to youngest, with groups being averaged.”

“So, the oldest person is on top and the youngest person is on the bottom.”

“That is correct.”

Daniel hummed and wiped up the last of his syrup up off his plate with the last piece of his pancake.  “This Jasmine person is the youngest person who wants me.  Ick, that sounded wrong somehow.”

“She is the youngest person,” said Clockwork.  He was doing something strange with the plates in the sink.  

“Is she, like, really into plants or flowers or something?”

“Are you really into Daniels?”

“I mean.  I don’t know.  My memory’s been erased and all.  For all I know, my name isn’t even Daniel.  It could be William.  Or David.”  Still, he got the point.  He shook his head.  “Ghosts just picking random names.  What is the world coming to?”

“You could always choose to go by another name,” said Clockwork, mildly.  “You are not trapped in it.”

“I know,” said Daniel.  “I’ll keep it for now, though.  Is, um, is the…”

“Her section of the file is colored teal.”

“Thanks,” said Daniel.  He flipped through.  “These aren’t in the same order, you know.”

“I know,” said Clockwork.  He sounded very put upon.  

“You’re not the one who does the organizing, huh?”

“If only I were.”

Daniel looked over the teal pages.  There wasn’t a lot of information on them.  The name, Jasmine, her height, hair color, eye color, a few lines about interests.  

“Not a lot here.”

“You are meant to form your own opinions,” said Clockwork.  

“Enjoys pushing forward the boundaries of knowledge?” he read from the page.  “Interested in modern psychology and brain surgery?”  He looked up at Clockwork.  “This sounds like mad scientist material.”

“You can always skip her, if you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to be fair.  So, uh, let’s go.  Let’s do this.”

“In your pajamas?” 

“Well, it’s not like I have anything else, do I?”

“In fact, you do.  There is a closet in your room upstairs.”

“With clothes that are mine?”

“With clothes in a variety of styles in your size.  They are all new, acquired for this process, although you can keep them afterward.”

“So, no way to figure out my style except for experimentation.  Cool.  Great.  Another mystery to solve.”

“Think of it as an interesting puzzle.  An amusing way to pass the time, whilst you are experiencing the various persons who wish to gain custody of you.”

“Uh huh,” said Daniel, pushing his chair out.  “I’m going to go get changed.  Do I need to pack a bag, too, or what?”

“What, in this case.  Any clothing and toiletries you need will be sent to you.”

Daniel nodded and climbed back up the stairs to ‘his’ room.  There was a closet there that he hadn’t noticed before, across from the bathroom.  He opened the door and started to shift through the different outfits.  

That one was too complicated… ugh, weird texture… too much body exposure… ooh, gothic… but also complicated… nice skirt… robe… kilt?  He prodded at the maybe-kilt a little.  He wasn’t sure that it was a kilt.  Well, whatever.  Jeans.  T-shirt.  Hm.  Tempting, if only for its simplicity.  But maybe he wanted something that vibed with his tail a bit better.  Ooh, Egyptian.  

Eventually, he hit on a combination of loose pants, long shirt, and fringed wrap.  Yeah.  That would look good.  Comfortable.  He took off his pajamas and fluffed his tail.  That did feel good.  He put on the pants, then the shirt, and then discovered he did not have great skills with wraps.  So.  He probably didn’t wear them on a daily basis.  Still, with the help of the bathroom mirror, he managed to get it into a more or less presentable arrangement.  He thought he looked good, anyway, and that was all that mattered.  After all, if they already were getting into fights over custody of him, he didn’t exactly have to dress to impress.  

He went back down the stairs, to where Clockwork was waiting, staff in hand.  “Okay, I’m ready.  How do I look?”

“Dressed,” said Clockwork.  

“Helpful,” said Daniel.  

“I am to please.”

“So… How do we get there?”

“Through this,” said Clockwork.  He held up the staff, and a portal spun off the clock at its top.  Then, he held out a small pocketwatch.  “When you want to return, merely click the button on top.”

“Okay,” said Daniel, taking it and looping it's chain around his neck.  “And… I just go through?  No other tricks?”

“No other tricks.  It is the journey of a single step.”

“Right,” said Daniel.  He took a deep breath and stepped forward.  

The transition between places really was smooth.  One minute, he was in Clockwork's purple kitchen, the next, he was in what looked like a completely normal entryway.  

There was a girl there.  She looked human, and was about half a foot taller than he was.  Her hair was red and her cardigan was the same teal as her paper in the file.  Her eyes, too, were blue.  She… really didn’t look like a ghost at all.  She didn’t particularly look like him, either, except for her skin color.  Unless maybe some of her facial features were similar?  Nose shape, perhaps?  He didn’t really remember what he looked like well enough to say.

But, definitely, what stood out the most about her was the fact that she was a girl.  A teenager.  Not a woman, not really.  She couldn’t be more than a few years older than he was.

“Danny,” she said, jumping out of the chair and starting to smile at him. “Hi, I’m–”  She stopped.  

The girl stared.  Daniel stared back.  

“Danny, what are you wearing?” she asked.  

“Clothing,” he said.  He didn’t think this kind of outfit had any particular name.  At least, if it did, he didn’t know it.

“Oh.”

“And… you’re…”

“Oh!  I’m Jazz!  You… really don’t remember me?”

Daniel shook his head, slowly.  

“Well… They did tell me that would happen…”

“I knew you before?”

“Yes!  Yes.  I… was your mother.  Am your mother!”

“Uh,” said Daniel.  “You’re, like, seventeen.  Eighteen, maximum.”

“Time travel was involved.”

“Time travel.”

“Time travel.  You know how things are in the ghost zone.  You get a natural portal, and then, boom!  You’re fifteen years in the past, or the future!”  She laughed, nervously.  “But I’m here, now!  This version of me.  Who is definitely your mother.”

Daniel realized, then, that just because the memory wipe meant that he couldn’t know what his prior connections were, that didn’t mean that other people couldn’t try to capitalize on them.  Or lie about them.  Or lie about them badly.  

“Time travel,” said Daniel, again.  

“I mean, you’re staying with Clockwork, right?”

“Uh, yeah, so?”

“So, he’s sort of a major player in the time travel scene, right?”

“He is?”  It’d explain the clock theme, at least.  

“He is.”

“Oh.  Cool.”  He still didn’t believe her time travel story, though.  “So, like.  If you were time traveling, who raised me?”

“Your, uh, grandparents.  But they can’t really, uh, do it, anymore.  For reasons.  And I’m back!  In the proper time!   So I want to take care of you now.  And this will start our bonding bonanza!  We can start with a tour of the house!”

What.  She did not just say that.  

“Are they the ones who’re disputing your custody?  Because it is a dispute, right?  That’s what this thing is all about.”

“I mean, um, there are seven groups, right?  Counting me?  So, no, it’s not because of them.”

“Right,” said Daniel.  That didn’t rule them out, though.  Maybe they were the ones at the top of the list.

“So, obviously, this is the entryway… At least, you know, when there’s a door.”

Daniel looked behind him.  There was, indeed, no door.  “What?”

“Something about the rules to these things.  We’re not supposed to leave for the duration.”

“What about food?”

“It’s brought in, the same way you were.  So, over here is the kitchen.”

The kitchen was a long, galley affair, with tile countertops and cute floral backsplashes.  It was much more normal than Clockwork’s, at least in terms of colors.  There was a fridge, a microwave, a toaster, and a dishwasher.  

“Do you know who the other six groups are?”

“I mean… I have a guess about some of them, but I don’t really know.  I’d thought Clockwork would be one of them for sure, but…”

“What, really?”  That, at least, didn’t seem like a lie.  “But he’s the neutral party?”

“Yes,” said Jazz.  “But I thought that the two of you were close.  But maybe it was more along the lines of being, I don’t know, work friends.”

“Huh,” said Daniel.  “I… Okay.”

“Yes.  Okay.  So, the fridge is completely safe, no biological or ectobiological samples stored in it.  Just food.  Normal, edible food.  We’ll do the dishes together, of course.  Cups are in here, dishes, pots and pans–”

“Your profile said you were interested in brain surgery,” said Daniel.  

“Oh, yes, that’s one of the things I’m thinking about studying in college!  Once I get into college.  Which will be soon.”

“So, you don’t have, like, a mad science lab in here where you do brain surgery or something like that?”

The girl stared at him.  “Are… you sure you don’t remember anything?”

This was not a promising question.  “Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re assuming that I have a mad science lab in here.  I’m  a high school senior.”

“Which means it’s weird that you’re here with a house at all.”

She made a face.  “It’s… I had some help getting it.  The house, I mean.  But there’s no mad science lab.  There will never be a mad science lab.  Unless you want a mad science lab.  I could probably make some calls.”

“I don’t want a mad science lab.  Why would I want a mad science lab?”

“I don’t know, to tinker in?  You used to do some, um, tinkering.  Mechanical engineering stuff.”

“That’s more of a garage thing, though, isn’t it?”

“I… don’t know.  You only ever did it in the lab.”

“So, we used to have a mad science lab.”

“That’s– I mean–  No.”

Definitely a lie.  They totally had a lab.  Or, at least, Jazz used to have a lab.  What was going on that they had a lab?  Something sinister, doubtlessly.  

“Did you dissect brains in this lab?”

“No!  Like I said, I’m only a student.  A student that is interested in a lot of things, but right now, my thesis is about Ghost Envy.”

“You’re a high school student with a thesis?”

“I’m a high achiever.  Have to make up for all that time lost time traveling.  You’d think you’d gain time!  But.  Yeah.”  She smiled tightly and nodded.  “Living room next!  We have a, er, one of those consoles.  For video games.  I got it from a friend.”

Daniel let Jazz drag him around the house.  It was kind of nice, except for how nervous she got whenever he probed about his past or her supposed time travel.  He didn’t really feel threatened by her, per se, but the lying… it definitely gave him a bit of, how should he put this, anxiety.  

“And here’s your bedroom, Danny!”

The bedroom was actually really cool.  Unlike the rest of the rooms, it had a very clear, very obvious theme beyond just house people can live in.  The theme was space.  The walls and ceiling were painted with constellations.  There were model rockets on shelves.  The desk had an astrolabe and a small model solar system on it, alongside astronomy books.  There were also some novels, composition notebooks and sketchbooks, alongside a variety of markers, but those were tiny points about the overwhelming amount of space.  Even the decorative throw cushions on the bed had galaxy patterns on them!

Danny… he really liked it.  He guessed he had to admit that, at least, Jazz had known him before, and had known him reasonably well.  Even if she wasn’t his mother.  

She’d also turned around to play with a deadbolt on the door.  

“It locks from the inside, because, well, I figured you’d be a bit nervous, staying with someone you know nothing about, and a lock might make you feel safer.”

She wasn’t wrong about that.  “Hey, speaking of safety, you’re still, like, alive?  Human?”

“Yes?” said Jazz.

“Isn’t it a bit weird, trying to get custody of a ghost?”

“Oh, um, I suppose it’s a bit unusual, but you’re my b– My son.  Definitely my son.  So, it’s worth it.  It doesn’t matter to me if you’re a ghost or a human or– Wait, Clockwork told you, right?”

“Told me… what?”

“That you’re not, you know, a normal ghost.”

“I… he might have said something about that.  About being an unusual kind of ghost.”

“So he didn’t tell you that you’re only half ghost?”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It’s a thing.  You can change back and forth between a human - more human - form, and a ghost form.  Like this.”  She gestured at him.  

Danny stared at her.  “That’s not a thing.”

“It is!  Oh, jeez, I can’t believe Clockwork left it to me to explain.”  She crossed her arms and turned away.  “I don’t know how to explain this.”

“Wait, does that mean my dad is a ghost in this story?  Are you saying that you, as a human, and a ghost–”

“No.  You died.  That sounds terrible.  I mean, you, um.  You sort of died.”

“How did I die that I managed to die only halfway?”

Jazz opened and closed her mouth several times.  “I didn’t witness it–”

“But you know.”

“It was– Do you really want to know?  I mean, regardless, I’m still your– your mom.  And I want to be.  And that kind of thing is really traumatic.”

“What was it?”

She looked like she didn’t want to answer.  Danny poured all his effort into a forceful, expectant stare.  

“It… was a lab accident.”

Silence.  

“Like, um.  A ghost lab.”

More silence.

“Okay,” said Danny.  He bit his lower lip.  “Right.”

“I’ll just leave now,” said Jazz.  “Make yourself at home.  Because it is!”  She stepped out.  

“Yep,” said Danny.  He closed the door and slid home the deadbolt.  Then he put his hand around the pocketwatch, lightly touching the button on top.  “Okay.  I’ll be okay.  I can always leave if she tries to examine my brain, and… I should give her a fair chance.  Right.”

[mae-gi-writes]

It's (Just So) Awkward | jungkook (bts) - one

“No way. We’re too different and he’s so—so black and white. A straight-up yes-or-no kind of guy. And I’m not.”

Genre: nerd! Jungkook x outspoken! Reader, university! Au, idiots to lovers au, kim changbin cameo (skz)

A/N: any mention of disorders/medical conditions are fictional and I do not own Jeon jungkook. I only own the plot. If you are sensitive to content that talks about psychological disorders, i would advise you to read at your own risk. Please do enjoy !!

Comment your username to join the taglist! 💕😊

Part One | Next >>>

———

“And I scream ‘for whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” — Cruel Summer, Taylor Swift

———

You and Jeon Jungkook have known each other for years.

You know him like the back of your hand, not because you wanted to, but because you were obliged to, with the god-awful amount of time that you spent together.

Everything started back in art class. You had been fifteen at the time and had enrolled in the Visual Arts IGCSE course, as did he. There were only five students in the class, which was the main reason as to how you got to know your classmates that well, considering that these were the sorts of people that you wouldn’t normally hang out with on a daily basis.

You’d taken a seat next to Jungkook on that very first day of class, your colored markers in one hand and your sketchbook in the other, when he’d first decided to pick on the state of your shirt.

“Your shirt is crumpled,” he’d stated matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t have any filter, as though he didn’t care that it might affect your feelings. Good for him that you weren’t the type of person to take things to heart.

You merely straightened and looked at him, “thanks for the observation.”

“Don’t you iron your shirts?”

“Uhm no, I forgot,” you eyed his very organized desk, noticed the straight angles of his own sketchbook perpendicularly placed with his ruler. His pens stacked at its side, parallel to the paper, and his hands poised onto the fresh page.

Your gaze then traveled up to his clean, crisp shirt, hair parted to the side and glasses perched on his nose.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as he said, “coming to school with a crumpled up shirt just shows how disorganized you are. Or maybe you didn’t have enough time. Then that’s time-management skills that you lack.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration,” you’d replied sarcastically.

And from there, you had learnt to know who Jeon Jungkook really was.

Undeniably, he had an amazing gift for art which no one could argue with, so all his backhanded comments were, over time, either ignored or playfully used as insults to tease him back. He was a funny guy — in the sense that he barely had any filter or sense of what was socially accepted to talk about — but you couldn’t say he hadn’t grown on you over the past years and funnily enough, you both ended up in the same university course as Visual Arts major.

“You again?” You’d groaned on the first day of lecture upon noticing his tall, dark frame behind round spectacles. Even out of high school, he still wore a shirt -- this one pale blue -- tucked into sable pants, hair combed back into that side part that now sportrd a few bangs, and his glasses.

He grinned at you from his seat, “hello, Y/N.”

“Why are you here?” You dramatically fell into your seat, swiveled towards him with an exasperated sigh as your chin fell into your hand.

“Because I applied for Visual Arts and got in.”

“Well yeah I knew that much,” you rolled your eyes, “but I thought you wanted to be an architect. Isn’t that what you said before graduation?”

“You remember?” His grin widened, “that’s nice of you—“

“Not on purpose, you dweeb. Now tell me why you’re here instead of bugging someone else in architecture 101.”

“I am in architecture,” he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “but my course asks for an art prerequisite. They said I couldn’t use my high school grades to give me my transfer credits because art wasn’t my main subject.”

“That’s bullshit. Your art was the best out of all of us.”

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for them.”

You tilted your head at him, “so you’re telling me I have to suffer through this with you, again? Didn’t I do enough of that in high school?”

“Technically, you’re the one who came to sit next to me.”

“You got a point. Maybe I should move.”

But you didn’t. Not wanting to admit it, you were actually grateful knowing that Jungkook was a familiar element amidst all this new environment. Not that you’d ever tell him that though, knowing he’d take full advantage of it.

That didn’t stop you from complaining about it with your mother every time you saw her appear on your phone screen. She would only laugh and tease you about it, saying that out of all universities, Jeon Jungkook had chosen the one you had applied to. Surely, according to her, she thought it was fate.

“It’s not fate,” you’d grumbled into your pillow, “how can it be fate? He just likes to torture me.”

“He’s not that bad Y/N,” your mother chided, “and you know how he is. His mother said so at the exhibition, remember?”

Yes, you had remembered how his mother had apologized following Jungkook’s harsh criticism of your projects. How could you forget? It had been on the final exhibition evening where all students were decked in black and white to follow the theme of the night, and as part of your final exhibition, you’d had to criticize and analyze your classmates’ pieces with your teacher as mediator. And when Jungkook had been asked to voice his thoughts about your work, he had been void of kindness:

“It doesn’t seem genuine.”

“It lacks of technique.”

“You could’ve used more depth.”

“I don’t see the connection between the artist and the audience.”

Not wanting to cry in front of the entire class had you running to the bathroom as tears streamed down your face, which caused his mother to follow you while trying to explain her son’s horrible behaviour.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. You know he doesn’t mean it that way, not really—“

“Oh then, in what way does he mean it then?” You’d sniffled into your tissue, hating how red your eyes looked in the mirror, “because to me that sounded downright condescending and honestly, I thought better of him—“

“He’s different, Y/N.”

“Different?” You pause, “what do you mean…different?”

That was when she explained about Social Cues Disorder, also known as SCD, which was placed on the Asperger’s spectrum despite being slightly different from the said diagnostic. And as she spoke, it became clear why Jungkook didn’t have any social barriers into speaking his mind even when it might hurt people or be taken the wrong way. The thing was, he didn’t know.

Nevertheless, it took you a few days to recover from his personal attack. You were surprised when Jungkook came up to you a few days after the exhibition to offer you an apology.

“My mother said she told you about SCD,” he spoke as though they were talking about the weather when to you, it was slightly difficult to handle such a topic when you had no idea whether he’d take it right or wrong, “she also said I need to apologize because I was very harsh on you during the exhibition.”

You swallowed thickly, the sting of tears building in your eyes as the memory resurfaced, “yes. You were.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied without missing a beat, “I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings. According to the doctors, I don’t know how to understand people’s emotions or react to people, or say the right thing. So I’m sorry, because I’m sure I might do it again.”

You looked at him for a long moment, judging the weight of his words. Then, you sighed, “that’s fine, Jungkook. Thanks.”

If you removed his lack of total empathy, Jungkook was admittedly kind of fun to be around. He had the most hilariou responses to everything, which you learnt the more you sat next to him in class.

"Color blindness is an eyesight problem," he said one day when you told him that you believed color blindness to be some sort of supernatural gift.

"Well how do you know that the colors you see are the real ones?" You lean over your desk, pen in hand as the soft scratches of pencil to paper filled the room, "maybe we're the ones who are colour blind."

"That is scientifically incorrect."

"Who said so?"

He looked at you as if you were an idiot, "it was scientifically proven, Y/N. I don't think your argument is valid."

"Okay, so let's take schizophrenia for example," you quickly fired back, "people say that those with this disorder hallucinate and see things that aren't there. But maybe, wait--hear me out," you added when Jungkook started shaking his head, "maybe these people actually see things that we don't."

Jungkook's eyebrow rose in what looked to be half-amusement, "I'm not sure that's a valid point. Also, it's medically incorrect to be sharing false information about psychological disorders."

"Not everything is quantifiable, you know."

"Still, what you're saying is that these people have superpowers that don't exist."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like some kind of marvel action movie to me."

Of course he would say something like that. What were you expecting more? With time, you came to understand the phenomenon that was Jeon Jungkook, with his weird quirks and curious way of thinking. You secretly wondered whether he knew how easily people got triggered by his responses, or whether he just went through life with his own kind of colorblindness.

You got rewarded with a first-hand situation between him and another classmate of yours a few days later, going by the name of Kim Changbin.

It was in the middle of mid-term and since deadlines were comig up soon, the printmaking studio was crammed with students trying to finish up their portfolio projects in time. You would normally give Jungkook a hand with the technical materials and tools needed and after having set up his screen, was busy arranging your own set of colours when a voice pierced through the room in anger.

"What the fuck, Jeon?!" Your head swivelled to see Changbin at the station that Jungkook had been standing at seconds prior, looking quite murderous with his damaged screen in hand. Facing him was Jungkook, a palette knife held in mid-air, "what's wrong with you, flaunting that thing around when we all have screens?!"

"I'm sorry," the words came out straight away from Jungkook's mouth, "It wasn't my intention. I'll make sure to work on it--"

"Work on it?" Changbin's nostrils flared. He stepped towards the taller man, "this took me fucking weeks to perfect. And what? You're going to work on it?" He took another step closer, causing Jungkook to lean back, " How the fuck am I supposed to get my artwork back huh?"

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention," Jungkook parroted again with eyes glassy as though he didn't know what to say, "I'll make sure to wo--"

"Yeah I heard you the first time!" Changbin hollered, index stabbing at his chest, "this artwork is my scholarship ticket and you fucking ruined it!"

"Hey hey," you quickly stepped in-between the two men, hand latching onto Changbin's shoulder, "he said he was sorry okay? Let's just calm down and--"

"Move out, Y/N, this is none of your fucking business," Changbin pushed you away and you stumbled. He took this chance to lunge for Jungkook's chest and the latter whimpered, yelping and handa scrabbling to push Changbin away, "you gonna take responsibility, dumbass?--"

"I'm sorry it wasn't my intention--"

"You fucking retard you can't even --"

"--make sure to work on--"

"Shut up!" And before he knew it, Jungkook yelped and pushed Changbin away.

"Changbin!"

"Jungkook!"

Changbin fell, crashed straight into a table with such force it split down the middle. For a minute, he lay there motionless, the entire class rendered silent.

And in the middle of it all, a panicked Jungkook holding his hands over his ears.

He crouched down as people moved towards Changbin concern and you took this chance to go to your friend, hearing him mutter the exact same phrase over and over again with a blank look in his eyes.

"Jungkook," your words were quiet as your hand wrapped around his shoulder tentatively, "hey, you alright bud? Let's get you out of here, okay?"

But as if he just realized you were his only safe anchor, the young man was quick to wrap his arms around your middle before he buried his head into your chest.

Your cheeks flamed, but you went to caress the back of his head, knowing that this was not a normal situation. He needed you.

"Jungkook?" You whispered and tried ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat, "you okay?"

"Just--please. Don't move."

Few words with so much power. You couldn't help but crumble and hold him closer if that was possible, hoping that the consequences that would follow would hopefully be called an accident.

This was the first time you'd seen Jungkook, as who he really was. You could have walked away , you had that choice, if you wanted to.

But you didn't.

---

"Hey."

Changbin's angry eyes fluttered up to yours from the nurse's bed. He'd been admitted to the campus clinic for an overnight watch in case something went wrong with his back. Due to the force of his fall, he now sported bruises all along his spine and you knew without doubt he'd use it as blackmail against Jungkook even if the wounds were superficial.

"What do you want?" He growled.

From his narrow-eyed stare, it was clear that he was not enjoying his current predicament; that being pinned down to a bed.

"How are you feeling?" You moved a little closer and tried not to flinch under his hard gaze, "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well you got your answer," he snapped, "now if you don't have anytbing else to say, get lost."

"I'm sorry. Jungkook--he's a bit socially awkward and I know you took a lot of time to finish this--"

"That's not your job, is it?" He chuckled emptily, "why are you apologizing on his behalf?"

"Because I know that's what he wants to say, but he's not in a state to say it right now," you took another step closer until you were at his bedside, "so before you go and think that he's just a loser, I wanted to clarify it with you."

"What are you, his mom or something?"

"We're friends, Changbin."

He shook his head, looking amused and you were glad he didn't seem to be so angry now that you exchanged more than two words with him, "and how exactly, did you become friends?"

"Why?"

"You don't seem the type to be friends with that kind of geek, apologies for the insult," he said with a raised brow, "so tell me. How are you friends? Is it by duty?"

"No. He's...it just happened," you tried to stammer through an explanation, though he had a point. How had you become friends? "In any case, does that even matter?"

That was when Changbin grinned at you, "wanna be my friend?"

You stared blankly at him, "what?"

"You wanna be my friend and help me out with my artwork?"

Considering that he would probably combust and drag you along with him if you failed to agree, you were quick to abide by his suggestion, setting up a meeting at the studio a few days later when he'd be safe and sound from the nurse.

You even prepared the materials in advance, setting up all the colours and preparing the screen so that Changbin wouldn't have to wait for it to dry to expose his design.

Your phone vibrated and you quickly pulled it out, frowning when Jungkook's name flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello Y/N. Where are you?"

"Uh, at school. Why?"

"I bought chocolate donuts."

Your heart melted slightly, "I'm in the art lab."

Which was where Jungkook found you a few minutes later as he walked through the door, donuts in hand and looking as geeky as ever with a crisp white shirt tucked into light jeans.

"Why are you here?" He frowned, "You're already done with your artwork."

Changbin walked in from the exposure room right at that very instant, his face turning sour as soon as he caught sight of the dark-haired man, "what the fuck are you doing here?" He growled.

"I'm here to give some donuts to--"

"To you!" You grabbed the donut box from Jungkook before thrusting it in Changbin's face, "hos way of saying sorry about your broken screen."

"Actually, these donuts were for yo--"

"He just feels so bad about you having to do your artwork all over again, right Jungkook?" You throw him a pointed look, which caused Jungkook's brows to furrow in even more confusion as Changbin's dark eyes flickered between the two of you, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

It took a moment for Jungkook to mutter out a, "sure."

"I'd feel a whole lot better if you got out of my face," Changbin scowled at him then, and you quickly scurried in front of your friend with hands held up in a defensive manner.

Jungkook turned to you, "do you have to help him, Y/N? He doesn't seem to be very friendly to me--"

"You little shi--"

"Alright alright boys!” You flailed your arms around wildly in hopes that would deter any kind of fight, “I told you, Jungkook doesn’t know how to show his affection and gratefulness to other people. Don’t take it badly, Changbin, let’s just— “

“Statistically speaking, you shouldn’t hang out with people with violent tendencies. It’s dangerous,” Jungkook stated bluntly.

You threw him the angriest glare you could muster, causing the said man’s eyes to dart away. He couldn’t recognize social cues, but he did know for a fact what your angry face looked like. So he didn't fight when you pushed him out of the door while excusing yourself with Changbin and it was only when you were safely away from prying ears that you tried talking some sense into your friend.

"Don't mess with this, okay? I got it." You said in what you hoped was a convincing tone, "just go home and finish your homework. We have that art history essay due tomorrow."

Jungkook stared you down behind his glasses, "but Changbin is--"

"No it's fine, just go home. Everything will be fine if you go home."

"What if he hits you?"

"He won't."

"You will call me if he does?"

"Yes. I promise I will."

That seemed to satisfy Jungkook and you quickly propelled him out of the building before ushering back inside the lab just in time to catch Changbin doing his screenprint.

"Got rid of that loser yet?" His smirk was infuriating. It made you want to slap it off his face.

"Shut up and let me help you," you responded, rolling your eyes as you went to assist him. In truth, you were just secretly glad they didn't tear each other's throats out.

Not everyone understood Jungkook, and while that was fine, you just felt as though you were responsible for protecting him.

It was almost midnight when you finished cleaning up the studio and packed up all the tools and materials, that was when Changbin suggested you get something to eat. Deciding that your stomach was a priority, you agreed and settled at one of the small cheap restaurants that sold hot noodle soup, one of the rare finds open 24/7.

"Why're you friends with that guy?"

You glanced up from your soup, "you asked me that before, Changbin."

He took a sip of his, other hand fumbling with his chopsticks to gather some noodles, “and I’m asking you again. Why are you friends?” He took a bite of his noodles and grumbled appreciatively, “you like him or something?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard coming out of your mouth,” you snorted as you slurped your noodles and chewed on the warmth that seeped into your chest. Noodles always tasted better in cold weather.

“Well he likes you.”

You almost choked on your noodles, “wha— where are you getting all this false information.”

“It’s written all over his face, Y/N,” Changbin rolled his eyes, “he wouldn’t be bringing you donuts if that were the case.”

“You’re wrong. He’s just kind. He always was,” the thought of you and Jungkook being together suddenly flashed before your eyes and heat flushed through your cheeks at the thought. He was your friend, he was the closest thing to home that you had now that you were in university, so it was just natural for you to gravitate towards the familiar.

“Bullshit. You don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Changbin merely chuckled, shaking his head before finishing his soup in silence. You were glad that he dropped it, knowing full well that you wouldn’t have been able to take it if he’d continuously found arguments to support his hypothesis. Jungkook couldn’t like you…could he? He was…odd and not the kind of man to look for things like relationships.

Then again, you’d never actually asked Jungkook how he felt about girls. Or relationships for that matter.

Which was why you had planned to corner him after your English lecture, rushing to the end of the corridor where you knew Jungkook had his design class with your bag barely closed and books clutched to your chest, only to find the said man wrapped up in an animated conversation with a stranger you’d never seen before.

The girl was beautiful. That was a given, with long glossy curls that fell to her waist and dyed light blonde, giving her the appearance of a fairy. She was wearing a pastel blue coat decked with white pants and boots to match, the perfect fashion icon for many, slightly smaller than you were so that her head had to tilt back every time she spoke to him.

You were about to swivel around — since they seemed to be in deep discussion — when Jungkook spotted you. His brown eyes lit up from behind his spectacles (it was kinda cute) and he grinned, dimple showing.

“Y/N,” he called your name and you had no other choice than to walk over, flashing him a weak smile, “this is Lee Sara. She’s in my design class. She’s also going to be an architect.”

“Hi,” Sara smiled. She was beautiful, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled back, eyes darting between the two before settling on Jungkook’s, “you ready to go?”

“Actually, Sara and I are going to get some boba,” Jungkook said.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the surprise on your face, “right. Uhm… I’ll see you later then.”

“Do you want to join us?” Sara asked kindly.

Jungkook was already turning away by then, probably too excited to get his drink to think about your feelings. He stopped mid-way, looked back at you, only to see you shake your head.

“I’m okay,” you smiled slightly, “see you two later. I gotta head to the library to study.”

Maybe it was the fact that Jungkook never used to socialize with girls before or that you never noticed, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disoriented at the sudden switch in the situation, causing Changbin’s earlier words to resonate through your brain. Did Jungkook actually have romantic intentions towards girls.

Did he feel attracted to them? It had never crossed your mind before, but now that Changbin had it labeled as an option, it was as if you couldn’t get the thought out of your head.

And it wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. A few days later you found him cooped up in the library with Sara at his side as they studied the mathematical equations of buildings and helped each other out with their projects. You had joined for a bit, only to feel a bit left out by the conversation and thus opted out early in favour of escaping the rising awkwardness. Not that Jungkook noticed, he never noticed anything.

“Maybe you’re right.” You’d grumbled to Changbin during your art lab a few days later. You had arrived early to class, coffee still steaming in hand, to find the said young man already sitting inside with his final artwork labeled and ready to be submitted on the table.

He looked at you, an eyebrow raising in curiosity, “I’m right about many things,” a smirk graced his face, “do tell.”

“About Jungkook liking girls.”

“No. I said he liked you, that’s a different—“

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut him off, “he doesn’t like me. But he’s—I just realized that maybe he does want a girlfriend. Maybe.”

“What made you say that?”

“He’s been hanging out a lot with a classmate lately,” you shrugged, “it’s just—it feels weird. He never used to be so…social.”

“Good riddance,” Changbin’s smirk grew, which made you throw your pen at his head. It hit him straight on the forehead, “ow! Watch it, woman.”

It was for the best. Really, truly, that Jungkook was expanding his horizons and talking to new people. He couldn’t be in your shadow forever, after all. That was what you kept on repeating yourself as the thoughts replayed through your brain again and again and again. The realization was tough, but change was good. Right?

Change was needed.

And maybe you should change too.

———

"Pigs aren't cute. They bathe in mud and carry numerous bacteria and and these bacteria are transferred to humans."

"Pigs are cute!" You gasped, shoving your phone in Jungkook's face to show him an image of said animal, "look at their babies! They're so fluffy and like tiny and small--"

He pushed your hand away in disgust, "you have weird taste in cutness."

"They're this ugly pink but overall they're quite charming, don't you think?" You giggled as you keptbswiping for photo after photo, "oh gosh, look at this one! He has a bow on his head."

“Y/N you have a weird definition of cute.”

You chuckled, “and you are weird, full stop.”

A few days had passed ever since your encounter with Sara and you hadn’t mentioned anything about the said girl since, thinking that it was probably for the best. And plus, Jungkook had the complete right to do whatever he wanted with his life. Yup. You weren’t there to stop him from talking to a pretty girl.

Maybe you should worry about yourself instead, and try not to focus too much on how it was getting harder and harder to get Jungkook’s attention these days.

Not that anything had changed. You still went on your library study sessions and bought boba together after every art history lecture. You still ate friend chicken and pizza while streaming your favorite movie — the same one that Jungkook asked for every week — and you still hung out with each other as though everything was normal.

But you knew it was far from it, something that your social circle of friends also pointed out during one particular lunchtime.

“He’s so peculiar. How do you hang out with him?” asked your good friend Yoona. You had met her during orientation and the two of you had hung out together quite often ever since. She’d even tagged along to some of your famous movie night Fridays, “I mean, not to sound rude but he’s like the kind of guy you’d find in Internet cafes.”

“He’s not all that bad. You just don’t know him well,” you argued as you took a sip of your iced tea.

“Don’t you think he has a crush on you, Y/N?” Another friend, Jimin, asked. He was busy unwrapping his sandwich and flicked his fringe out of his eyes, cocking his head in a way that made you feel a little self-conscious.

Yoona chortled, “no way. I don’t see it. Although…when you think about it, it would make sense why they would end up together.”

“Right?” Jimin added, “it’s clear as day that you guys have feelings for each oth—“

“Bullshit,” you laughed, “I don’t know why you keep mentioning that. And plus, he’s hanging out with this new girl these days.”

“New girl? Who?” Yoona frowned.

“Her name’s Sara Lee. Heard of her before?”

“Oh,” Jimin straightens, “the pretty girl from architecture right? I think everyone’s heard of her. She’s like an influencer or something.”

“Well you know, if you dress up Jungkook nicely…” Yoona trailed off in thought, “I think he has potential.”

“You think? Girl, the ladies in my course have been eyeing him since the start of the new semester. That’s old news,” Jimin rolled his eyes as you stared them down, eyes darting from one face to another as the new information sunk in.

“Wait—“ you interrupted their flow of conversation, “are you—are you actually serious? Jungkook? Potential? What—“

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet, Y/N,” Yoona said as she slurped down her drink, “I mean— this boy just has wardrobe issues. Nothing that a little bit of fixing can’t solve.”

Contrary to your friends, you had never actually thought of Jungkook— seen of him in this light. Which was why you decided to stare him down in your art history lecture right after lunch, cocking your head this way and that as you examined the angles of his face.

In truth, they were right. Jungkook did have potential to be handsome. Because even with those round glasses and that horrible side part of his, you could still catch a glimpse of his jaw line. His build was hidden, but yet still there underneath the curve of his shoulders. His back was broad, that you were sure of and you couldn’t help imagining how he would look like in a v-neck shirt—

Stop. Your slammed down on your thoughts like car brakes. This was Jungkook, for god’s sake. You’d known him as the annoying classmate in high school, the quirky friend who never wore sweaters or casual wear and was always decked in formal attire. This wasn’t about to change now.

“Y/N, you’ve been staring me down since the start of class and it’s starting to creep me out.”

Jungkook’s voice dragged you back to reality. You blinked, catching his eyes as warmth suddenly flushed through the back of your neck.

“Uh—yeah sorry. Was just lost in thought.” Lies. You were definitely checking him out. You wondered whether he actually knew what that word meant. You were just glad he wasn’t the best at reading physical body language or expressions for that matter.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked suddenly.

He looked hesitant, but nodded.

“What do you think of Sara?”

“What do I think of Sara?” You watched his eyebrows pull into a frown, “I don’t think I understand this question, Y/N.”

“I mean—do you find Sara attractive? Like as a girl?”

Jungkook was silent for a long moment and though you were usually the best at reading him, the expression on his face was one that you couldn’t decipher.

It made your stomach curl with unease.

And when he finally spoke, you swore your stomach twisted in on itself.

“Sara is pretty.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry. You swallowed thickly, bit down onto your lower lip and tried to wonder what the fuck was wrong with you. It wasn’t like you liked Jungkook…right? Right?

“Would you date her?” You asked.

“I have not thought of it. But yes, she is, by every man’s standards, a very good candidate for a girlfriend.”

Ah. So he did know what it meant after all.

“But would you date her?”

“Probably. Yes.” He looked at you then, tilting his head to the side as though trying to decode what was going on inside that head of yours, “why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. No reason.” You tried to smile, lips lifting slightly at the corners in hopes that it would fool him.

It did. Without him knowing that somewhere along the seam of your heart was a small hole that ripped apart its seams.

-—-

Part Two >>

[cosmicrhetoric]

can i ask what the deal is with monstrous regiment?

like the deal as in. the whole deal? its is probably my favorite book full stop (not even fave fantasy, fave pratchett, whatever like full stop) so its hard to condense my thoughts lmao. ok monstrous regiment is based on the english folk song sweet polly oliver. the basic plot is that our main character polly dresses as a boy and joins the army (under the name oliver) to look for her brother, who has been missing in action. if you've heard of the book b/c of the online presence you probably have heard about the gender stuff. there is a Lot of it to be fair (canon gay characters, at least one canon trans character, whatever tf was happening with maladict), but it's shares screentime with the other two main themes, war and organized religion gone bad. it's discworld so its funny and satire and heart but it's a horror show. i genuinely think the book lapses into gothic tradition at times however i cannot in good conscious reveal more of the plot cause i swear reading this book feels like tripping down the stairs at times.

where i think the book succeeds where a lot of 'girl cuts her hair and goes to war' stories doesnt is that is like. it doesnt feel like a Girl Power book. i have nothing against Girl Power books (i was in middle school in 2009) but in monstrous regiment the point isn't "a girl can be as strong as boys!" the point is that when you are stuck under a serious model of oppression and your country is lying to you and your god seems to hate you and everyone you know is either at war, starving, or both. how are you going to survive?

also would like to mention that someone did upload the entire audiobook to spotify so. stephen briggs does a really good igor voice.....get it while its hot

edit: not on spotify anymore haha but the way audiobook uploaders are on there if u keep searching for it it'll show up eventually

[cant-really-remember]

This all started with an already complicated meta and I felt like mine was getting lost at the bottom (it is a lot to read). I feel like mine, even though it references the original posts, can stand on its own. I also want to put it out again because I am still fleshing this all out and want to write more about cult/abuse survivorship and GO.

I want to add so much to this from the perspective of a cult survivor (born in).

Important things to know about cults, cult survivorship. (In this, Aziraphale = she, Crowley = he)

Cults:

A system that organizes people around a doctrine, a charismatic leader, or both. Akin to fascism, complete obedience is expected - as well as complete honesty (or at least you have to be honest about when you “stray”).

There is a theory about the psychology of cults, by Janja Lalich, that is called bounded choice (also the name of her book). This theory proposes that the insidious cult system can, essentially, hijack personal choice or “freedom” by requiring members to make decisions in a wildly skewed reality where there is no choice that would be good for the individual and is often harmful to them. From the outside, these choices can seem irrational, dangerous, or just plain awful - but within the confines of the cult, which is controlling the narrative and truths of the world for members, these choices are aligned with the “highest power”, “greatest purpose”, or whatever the doctrine is built around.

(So much more under the cut)

Cults are often highly organized and incredibly insidious, with hierarchies that maintain the status quo and power, with written texts that shape the way members see the world, with directions for how everyone should think about everything. You are not allowed to come to your own conclusions and, actually, doing that can actually be downright dangerous.

It’s really important to understand that the cult mechanism of being in complete control of the narrative causes people to build their ENTIRE identities around this cult narrative. Any threat to this narrative (someone showing you the hypocrisy of the group, the potential fall of the cult or leader, tangible proof that the world is different than you’ve been told) is FIRST met with denial and thought stopping. “I can’t think like this.” At this point, the member can circle back and strengthen the cult narrative they carry by dismissing/fighting what they just saw. Or they can let it in. They can take it into consideration.

But this, this consideration, can literally feel like pulling out foundation stones of your house. The cult worldview is the foundation on which the member has built their ENTIRE IDENTITY. You think, oh great, the cult member can leave and join the world and be so much happier. But imagine, you are a member of a cult who tells you that the air on earth is unbreathable for “good” people. The only people who can just walk around and breathe the air are terrible, immoral people - so you have to carry around a tank of oxygen with you everywhere to maintain your “goodness”. One day, your oxygen tank falls down the subway steps and rolls on to the track and gets obliterated by an incoming train. You are standing there and you TRULY ABSOLUTELY believe that if you breathe the air you will become a terrible, immoral person and even beyond that, since you are now a terrible and immoral person, you will lose everything you had ever known. You won’t belong in your community anymore. Do you breathe? Can you breathe? Will you die? Will you lose everything?

This obviously seems irrational and absurd — we all know the air doesn’t turn you into a terrible, immoral person — but that cult member believes it with every fiber of their being. So when you present them with evidence or proof of the cult narrative being wrong or hypocritical, this is what they are experiencing. You trying to take away their oxygen tank.

Cult survivorship:

Getting out of a cult is basically getting out of an abusive relationship. But you are in relationship with an entire community and a narrative of the world. If you know anything about abusive relationships, what is most important in leaving successfully is finding your “you” again. The “you” before the relationship and the abuse.

If you are born into a cult, there is no “you” from before. This abusive, twisted, often sadistic and violent narrative of….well, everything is all you have ever known. You don’t know what it feels like to be a “human”. You have little knowledge of the “real world”.

Leaving a cult you were born into is like going to a different planet. You don’t understand how things work, what people are talking about, how relationships function, or how (real and healthy) communication is important. You definitely don’t have any opinions about anything. You can scarcely figure out what to have for breakfast, imagine trying to make huge complicated emotional decisions. And realizing those emotional decisions are meant to be made on the basis of what good for YOU. You have never considered yourself first, you don’t know what that feels like and in the past it has usually brought pain or isolation or loss.

Framework

I want to set the framework that in my analysis Crowley is a born in cult survivor who was kicked out of the cult, then goes on to do the very natural thing called “cult hopping” - where you leave a cult just to fall into another one immediately - his new cult is less powerful, less organized, and less scary. Aziraphale is still very, very much in the cult she was born into. She is still a “true believer”. They are both grasping at “the world” to leave their authoritarian cults.

The absolute MOST DANGEROUS relationship for a true believer to have is one with a defected or discarded member. This is the case for multiple reasons:

- The out person can provide a different perspective (NOT allowed in a cult) and can often see the hypocrisy, abuse, and control.

- Cults often have their own “language”, this may mean in a literal sense of having made up words but usually it means that words have double meaning. An out person knows this language and can have an much easier time getting through to an in person because of this.

- The out person is a living, breathing example that you can have a life outside the cult.

- The cult will have spent an extraordinary amount of time undercutting the “goodness”, value, and morality of the out person. If the out person shows any kindness or humanity, this can serve to undermine the cult teachings and control.

- And the obvious reason that “fraternizing” with the enemy can lead to shunning, violence, or even death.

In terms of the 1967 scene:

If you read the OPs, there is discussion of who knows what and when. The first, and I feel, most important thing to know is that emotions are complex, layered, and always evolving and devolving - especially if you have the CPTSD of cult survivorship. CPTSD often creates a firewall between the victim and their feelings. Simply, they don’t know what they feel.

Within this framework, Aziraphale firmly believes that he “can’t” love Crowley. Like it isn’t physically possible. Within the narrative she lives in, this is not even a remotest of possibilities, it’s against the laws of Heaven and physics. And every time Crowley shows her the hypocrisy of Heaven, we see the denial as she is desperately clinging to her sense of “self”. But we also see the cracks in the foundation.

Over 6000 years, the cracks have been widening and widening and Aziraphale’s self is beginning to be defined by humanity and Crowley. She is trying to leave the cult for “the world” because she is realizing that in THAT world her love for Crowley IS actually possible. Not just from the surveillance/meddling standpoint, but from the realization that the physics of “the world” allow for an angel and a demon to be in love.

All the while, she is struggling — and I mean STRUGGLING— to chose something for herself. She doesn’t understand what it even means to put herself first. Like again, I mean she cannot conceptualize it. Choosing yourself doesn’t obey the laws of physics in the upside down cult narrative.

Soooooo, as the OP says - the holy water incident is the first time Aziraphale does something against the narrative she has been brainwashed to believe WITHOUT some type of plausible deniability. She is doing it because maybe, just maybe she can begin to even consider that it could even be possible that she could have feelings for Crowley. She is very far from knowing she is in love. Here’s where the complexity comes in - I do think she is very in love with Crowley at this point, but she will not let himself even consider it because letting it in could topple her house of cards.

—“we can dine at the Ritz”

Another important thing to know about people in cults is they are, by necessity, very romantic and optimistic people. You have to believe in all kinds of crazy shit and make invisible connections and make meaning out of nothing. So her romantic “dine at the Ritz” is not only a “I’m really trying to get out but I can’t see a way out now but I really am trying” but it’s also such a “true believer” thing to do…she has probably spent so much time fantasizing about the perfect date in her disassociative daydreams.

She is planning the perfect escape but keeps putting it off because she believes she can game the system or fix the cult or find a way to quietly slip out the back door. None of these things are possible in a cult. You cannot chose yourself and the cult at the same time.

—“I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.”

Crowley, like always, is saying “GET OUT. Just RUN. I’ll run with you. I know it’s scary and painful and devastating, but I promise that it will be ok. I want to leave my cult, too, but honestly that would probably mean I would see you less or maybe die. So let’s do this together.”

Crowley knows that Aziraphale can’t fix it or get out peacefully. He is begging her to just pull the damn bandaid off. Crowley also knows the soul-crushing feeling of your entire life and world and everything you believe being shattered to dust. So he is endlessly patient and empathetic with the pain Aziraphale is going through.

—pause, “you go go fast for me, Crowley”

Baby girl can see what he is asking her to do. And it gives her so much hope. She can see him holding his hand out to pull her through the door. But she is still not ready. She cannot, yet, do the work and processing of her identity being built on lies and hypocrisy. She wants to continue to believe in good — and by proxy, evil.

I don’t think “you go to fast for me” is about Crowley’s lifestyle or that it’s getting too hot-n-heavy. I think it’s that he is (im)patiently waiting outside her door for her to leave her cult. Aziraphale knows that he is asking her to do, but she can’t even fathom it yet. She has to extricate her identity from Heaven (the cult) before she can leave.

Crowley wasn’t able to take his time and slowly turn away from Heaven - he was ripped from her bosom and left to rebuild himself year by year. His different hairstyles and fashions are not only about fitting in to humanity (which he adores) but he is practicing his new found personal freedom (limited by Hell) and rebuilding his identity on a new foundation. This is definitely a normal cult survivor response.

Where we are now

Instead of jumping into a idling car and flooring it, Aziraphale is trying to find her identity while still having the comfort of the cult. This is also a very normal cult survivor response. Trying to build herself and her outside relationships up so that when she leaves she has a soft place to land. But this is a very dangerous option…as we saw with the end of S2. You can eat food, listen to music, do all kinds of worldly things but if you aren’t truly rebuilding your identity on different foundations and without the cult influences, you can be drawn back in VERY EASILY. The deal with the Metatron is perfectly crafted to suck her back in.

The last 15 minutes of S2E6 is so familiar to me. It’s called hoovering. They suck you back in like a vacuum. They can do it expeditiously because they know EXACTLY where your buttons are, your hopes and dreams, what lies you will believe, what fears you have BECAUSE THEY PUT THEM THERE. If you don’t rewrite your cult identity, then you are still operating on the script you were given by the cult and they can write a new exciting scene that fits in ever so perfectly with your disassociative daydreams. They know you because they controlled the shape of your world and then observed you in it for your whole life. They didn’t allow you your own thoughts or to ask questions and now they have the “perfect situation” for you that will seemingly assuage both your cult identity and your outside influences. They can tell you EXACTLY what you want to hear.

And you fall for it, because the relief is enormous. Being in the good graces of the cult while also thinking you can do the things you want to do is literally the “perfect” situation. It looks like the painless path that will let you stay in denial but also feel like you have some semblance of choice. But, surprise, it’s a trick.

I think the moment outside the elevator when the Metatron admits to the second coming is the absolute “oh shit, I fucked up” moment for Aziraphale. She really thought she would get it all but again the cult lied and manipulated her and sucked her back in. At that moment, you hear a miracle sound. For the longest time I thought it was the Metatron putting some “spell” on Aziraphale, but I have come to be convinced that she is putting Nightingales on the radio for Crowley as a way of communicating.

Aziraphale is not the type to impulsively turn and run back to Crowley — but I think she realized she needed to tell him that everything he had said finally caught up with her in that moment and that she finally understands what the hell he was saying before the kiss. So she sends the song to the Bentley (it is already established that she has a strong connection with the Bentley and the Bentley can be felt/controlled from miles away by those with a connection) and then gives Crowley a glance that says “You were right. You were right. I was wrong. You were right.” and gets in that elevator gathering courage resulting in a smile that, to me, says “murder hornet in the beehive.”

Thank you @paperbunny and @zionworkzs for spurring this diatribe.

[polyamorousmood]

How do people handle when a partner says something along the lines of...oh, what, I'm not enough? I don't feel like the notion of polyamory is about anybody not being enough. But not quite sure how to articulate that in a helpful way to reassure another person. Thoughts?

There is no in-the-moment fix to this that I've found.

That is a big concern that requires a lot of work to address. Your partner has to have an open mind, and you have a lot of explaining to do. It's a process, and you'll probably have to explain it several different ways, several different times for it to sink in.

I would caution against directly saying "you are enough" because... your partner alone won't satiate you, in one way or another. If they could, you likely wouldn't be trying/doing/asking for poly stuff (in such a mono-centric world as we live in). But I'd also be likely to bet no ONE person would satisfy you either.

Here's as good a place as any to put the very necessary read-more. There's specifics and stuff below the cut

Okay, I'm having a hard time organizing what I'm trying to get across as flowing prose so we're just doing bullet points of general advice. You know your life better than I do though so these are not hard-and-fast rules so much as consider-this-es.

🔍Find the specific worries your partner has. Without judgement work with your partner to get to the heart(s) of the issue. Are there any precise worries your partner has? When you go out to eat, your partner isn't scared their cooking isn't to your standards. So what ways are they actually worried about being "not enough for you." Sexually inadequate is a common fear, but so is the fear that they're not providing enough for you emotionally or materially, they might worry you're discontent because your hobbies don't overlap enough, or a thousand other things. There's likely general anxiety there as well, but know as much as you can about what worries your partner has.

👇Be specific with your reassurance. As discussed, saying "you are enough" is too easy to ✌️"disprove"✌️ (these are air quotes). But that's in part because its too broad. Any one thing you prefer to do with someone else can serve as "proof" the partner in question "isn't enough." So focus on what you value about your partner, what you get out of that specific relationship, what is special and un-replicatable that you enjoy. "I will always want to do [activity] with you" and "I love your way of seeing the world. When we were talking about [subject] you mentioned [interesting point]. I never would have considered that. I want to keep hearing your insight" and "I NEVER thought I'd like [whatever], but the way you love it makes me love it". You should also (if applicable, do not lie) probably assure your partner you are still committed to a long term relationship with them, including working through problems together.

🤝Help your partner build security in the relationship. Have dedicated time that's just for them Even if you're living together so everything you do is "together", make quality time. Those specific reassurances? Write them down on fancy paper and give them to your partner, so they can refer back to it when they need to. Thank your partner for coming to you with concerns, even when you're not sure what the fix is. In your daily routine you should be telling your partner things you're grateful for about them.

🧍Help your partner feel confident as an individual. The worst way to transition a relationship to polyamory is to go straight from spending every minute together to seeing other people. Perhaps counter-intuitively, you need to have separate lives, preferably before you add other people to the mix. You should spend at least a couple hours a week with friends or on hobbies away from your partner and vice versa. If you're everything to your partner, the fear of not keeping you is the fear of losing EVERYTHING, so your partner needs to see they have value outside of the relationship. And that WILL make a good relationship STRONGER, and less dependent.

⏲️Take time to work through problems.Don't let stuff fester. If you notice your partner is feeling off, say so in as many words. If they aren't ready to talk, its still helpful for them to know you notice and care about their feelings. If they do want to talk, talk. Even if you don't know how to proceed, take real time to sit together and brainstorm. If you don't reach a possible solution, establish a time to revisit it. Don't. let stuff. fester.

💭Know what you mean. "I don't feel like the notion of polyamory is about anybody not being enough" okay, what is it about? What's the draw for you? For me, whose very kitchen table, its about freedom and trust, sure, but its also very much about exploring new things and sharing that experience with my partner. I feel our love is stronger when it is not bogged down by petty mortal notions of exclusivity.

📘📗📙📕Explain your needs multiple different ways. Find several metaphors that describe how you feel. "My favorite meal cannot be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner." "It doesn't feel different to me than friends. You're my best friend but I wouldn't say no to hanging out with a work friend for my best friend's sake." "The sun is beautiful, I cannot live without it, but its also really important I get to see the stars". "I can't do monogamy. I tried really hard in the past, but it felt like cutting off a limb. I wasn't wholly myself, I could still feel phantom sensations of what wasn't. It drove me mad" Whatever you feel suits the situation. Be prepared to go into detail, be prepared to explain the shortcomings of your metaphor, and be aware of what negative associations your metaphors my have (for example, the food metaphor listed here may be misinterpreted as "so you're sick of me"). Make it personal.

🙋Its not you, its me. but like fr. DO NOT use that wording, but emphasize that your wants and feelings and needs are not caused by your partner. They are yours (and you're asking your partner to help you meet those wants/feelings/needs by allowing you some poly freedom).

📑Further reading. I talk about how to communicate effectively here. Here's a little workbook about "jealousy" but I think it also applies to in/security so it may be helpful for your partner to do independently or with you. Some explanations as to how your partner might be hurt by you having other partners. And lastly, I haven't read Polysecure (yet!) but uhhh, gonna go out on a limb here and say might be applicable (my library has a copy! so you might check yours if you don't want to purchase). And last but certainly not least, though again, nominally about jealousy, I think this article really suits your situation and offers some reframings your partner may find helpful.

As a final word of advice: hear your partner out. Your goal, ultimately is not to change your partner's mind, but to reach an understanding. You both will have to work toward understanding each other for there to be any hope of success.

[tiredassmage]

actually kind of in a tyr-thoughts era in general and one of my other not yet deeply explored spitball against the wall thoughts is it low-key fascinates me that what sticks about the moniker of cipher nine to him is 'nine.'

i've often seen it interpreted - and for good reason - that cipher is the part that sticks. the (how i tend to read it, anyway) what you were, rather than any sense of who, maybe. and it's not that tyr is entirely without this aspect of it as well. part of why he continues to go by nine well after imperial intelligence is a fading gripe in the back of peoples' throats is because there is always a part of him that will identify as a cipher agent. he will always be what imperial intelligence made him, what he made himself for the sake of imperial intelligence. tyr will take a sense of pride in that organization and his role within with him to the grave, most likely.

and... i was originally thinking of this as separate of my reflection on him and the minister's relationship again [there was agent posting in the tag and i got in my feelings again, okay? naturally], but it... it's kind of a part of that, i guess.

because to say tyr carries a pride of his role kind of requires the foundations upon why he feels that way. when tyr says 'imperial intelligence never betrayed me,' to him, that's true. in his narrative of events, that is something he can say without regret.

because the minister saying to him about the castellans, 'if i hadn't [approved them], you'd be dead' tracks with tyr's understanding of the empire and his personal distaste for the sith. tyr doesn't expect the man to grovel for his forgiveness or waver from the line that it was his duty to obey 1) because that's not the kind of man he knows the minister to be and 2) because tyr doesn't actually expect him to regret it in... the sense that the minister has always looked out for him. has done the best that he can for nine, even if his hands have been bound by circumstance and their positions and their overseers. 'if i hadn't, you'd be dead' is both a conceivably true and possible outcome to tyr's understanding of his role as an imperial and a cipher agent and the double-meaning unsaid of 'your life was valuable enough to compromise to save.'

frankly, i think the minister could've shot tyr himself, if it'd ever come to it, and tyr would still be loyal to him. tyr's faith in what that man will ask of him is that complete, so unshakably of the mind that the minister would never ask something of him that would unduly harm him. he trusts the older man's judgement so completely he'd expect that, whatever the decision would be, it was made with tyr's best interest at its heart, even if they'll never be able to say as much to one another.

and perhaps only a cipher would call that kind of double-meaning woven in between spoken and unspoken words 'honesty' and 'reliability' and 'trust,' but. for the longest time, it was the only kind of authenticity tyr really had available to him. they had a mutual understanding of one another. my interpretation of that relationship is that it really was both ways - tyr would answer every call the old man asked of him because he trusted the minister would never ask anything unduly of him, and the minister was conscious to be careful of what he asked because he knew tyr was loyal. the silas denver melvin 'dead dogs are just happy you're here' kind of loyal.

whatever he asked, tyr - nine - would've reshaped his spine to see it done. simply because of who was asking. simply because the man believed strongly enough in what they were doing, and who he was directly doing it for.

so. that's why nine. because for all that being used that way by their enemies, that being held under by the empire that raised him and a representation of the sis, the republic did to him, nine is just as much on tyr's own hands. nine because tyr needs anyone who will accept him to accept his own commitments to intelligence, to recognize him as complacent - and willing - in his own training. nine because even with his teeth bloodied, tyr hunted the cabal because they nearly - and then did - gut intelligence. nine as the last badge of the people that made him, for better and for worse.

nine because who he is will never perfectly fit their what, because most ciphers don't survive past year five. and he'll never forgive them for taking the place that made him.

[strapinandstraponyourstrapons]

puppy pack || thiam centric || completed || 5 chapters || 11k words || fluff and humor and a smidge of angst with a happy ending

summary:

Brett hosts a house party for the Puppy Pack. Liam and Theo get their clothes all wet.

---

“Whatever happened to all your brain cells, anyway?” Theo continues.

“My dad beat them out of me,” Liam answers without hesitation, several seconds before his brain-to-mouth filter in its current intoxicated state can keep up.

holy shit i finally finished this gargantuan (by my standards anyway) monstrosity. the first chapter is up!! and the rest is coming over the next few weeks.

this fic is pre-relationship because, although there’s a lot of cute thiam scenes (i hope), they are drunk, so i didn’t want to make them do anything too crazy. also this fic is kind of written so you can imagine slotting it in somewhere in a larger, slowest-of-slow-burns, overarching thiam story, so it’s not the right timing in my mind for them to get together just yet. this fic would be like a b-plot to an episode somewhere towards the end of the theoretical 7a that i like to imagine, intercut with scott and the older pack members Doing Plot Things like a bunch of losers.

if you want to know what sort of ride you’re getting into, this fic is mostly fluff and humour, just a happy little snapshot of the puppy pack being stupid kids and having fun. we take a brief dip into angst for chapters 3 & 4 but it has a happy ending and the angstiness doesn’t outweigh the shenaniganness too much imo. i wrote it to feel like some of the drinking experiences i have had as a youth, so hopefully it’s an authentic mix of dumbassery in a good way and dumbassery in an oh-my-god-you-could-have-died way. 

this fic is dedicated to

@thiamsxbitch for leaving a lovely comment on “i lost my heart under the bridge” a few weeks ago that got me thinking about writing again, and for encouraging me all throughout, inspiring me with her own writing, validating my choice to post it in chapters even though the poll said no, being a lovely ray of sunshine, and making this fandom a more welcoming place🖤

@pearlspouch for  gifting me a work that i decided to link this one to very slightly… it doesn't line up perfectly but at one point i mention liam and mason making a bet about skirts. if you want to know how that goes, you should read “You Look My Way And I Lose My Breath” by issawhatevah on ao3!!! i absolutely adore it, and it’s a brilliant read especially if you’re unsatisfied with thiam not (officially, anyway) getting together at the end of this. thanks again to sina for being an absolute legend🖤

@nuxmediocre for saying she would read this fic if i left it with its draft title (“weredickheads part four: why are you buying clothes at the soup store”). i did end up with a proper title, but i was just glad that someone appreciated my sense of humour, so thanks for that🖤

and to my real life friend and housemate who drank too much on the day i had literally just started planning to write this idea, for giving me first hand experience about dealing with someone who’s so sick from alcohol that you consider calling an ambulance. glad you survived bud, and your sacrifice contributed so much to gay fanfiction🙏

if you subject yourself to reading this, please leave me a comment with your thoughts and i will be eternally grateful🔥🖤🔥 tell me a song or songs that you think the puppy pack would absolutely thrive to (no, we do not care that it’s supposed to be 2014 in the timeline so don’t worry about that)

[neos-schlond-poofa]

MY MCD HEADCANONS FOR THE 9TH ANNIVERSARY

i need to post SOMETHING to celebrate the best minecraft series ever but i dont want to do something too big because next year is TEN YEARS I AM OLD so heres my hcs and most are. just canon in my rewrite WHICH I REALLY NEED TO ORGANIZE ONE DAY. someone should make like a google doc layout template thing for us its a hard world theres so much stuff that needs to be rewritten. anywho.

LORD APHMAU

NOT the reincarnation of Irene. Or literally just Irene.

Instead I based her off of my friend's old theory from 5th grade (as a tribute, also my friend isn't dead it's not like an in memoriam tribute but its a tribute to an amazing idea) that she was a fallen angel. But. She isn't at the same time?

Instead, she's one of Irene's daughters. Kind of. ITS HARD TO EXPLAIN AND I DONT WANNA GO ALL INTO THE LORE HERE BUT THERES "SISTERS" OF HERS TOO AND VYLAD STILL SUMMONED HER.

She doesn't have those markings from rebirth; I like them in fanart, but realistically? Why would some random girl have that? Instead, she has weird scars on her body.

Knows the basics of writing and reading... but REALLY struggles with them still. She literally just spawned on this world. She doesn't know everything.

But her natural tendency to help people is in her blood. Like. Irene's whole purpose of these "daughters" of her were to try to fix her legacy in a way. She still struggles with a lot of things though, and all those changes to the village LIKE WHERE SHE JUST BUILT HUGE THINGS obviously don't happen.

She also didn't have good combat skills until she trained with Garroth. Then Zenix. Then EVERYONE. Her combat skills are a huge melting pot of every single person she's fought against or fought with. Of course, she prefers to just use her sword.

SUPER socially awkward but doesn't even realize it. After all, she doesn't have many things to base her social interactions off of; she just got here. But, she does have manners at least.

Can't cook. AT ALL. This is actually a headcanon based off the WORST FANFIC I EVER READ (I lied it was amazing but I was so shocked by the ending like it's the best fic ever but... it SCARRED me PLEASE read it).

About like. 24 years old.

Bisexual and genderfluid and polyamorous.

Endgame is ultimately Garrancemau, but she DOES have a relationship with Katelyn and Zoey during the series. Those will be expanded upon later.

Never has a romantic relationship with Aaron. Also will be expanded upon later.

Can't tell her lefts from rights (just like me) without using her hands.

Once she found out about her relation to Irene, she just felt TERRIBLE. Like. This super cool Goddess EVERYONE loves was basically her mother and she has to live up to that.

BUT OH IT GETS WORSE WHEN SHE FINDS OUT IRENE IS A TERRIBLE PERSON. Now, she has to struggle with telling the world or not, she has to exist knowing she was just created to be a solution to the problems someone who doesn't even care much about her caused.

Has mild generalized anxiety and ADHD. And. Naturally gets a lot of trauma over the series.

Knows how Joan of Arc felt.

GARROTH RO'MEAVE

Kind of an idiot in a way. Like. SUPER INTELLIGENT. But never thought about changing his first name when hiding in Phoenix Drop... he just always ignored people's questions about his last name.

In his defense, Garroth became a fairly popular first name after his birth. It's like when the royals have children and the names they give them become more popular.

Azura helped him escape to Phoenix Drop; they met when he was allowed to go to knight college or whatever its called I FORGOT GUYS!! And he was not in the same class as Laurance... but there any good knight is literally put on the list of Jury of Nine canidates. Like. It's not that hard to be considered. But to be picked? They do like the biggest background checks EVER and secretly watch you to see your strengths.

Naturally a very father-like figure to those significantly younger than him as a result of caring for his brothers and protecting them from his father. I made a whole post about it before. I'd tag it but I. Don't feel like it.

LEVIN'S FATHER!! DILFROTH IS CANON GUYS. But he doesn't know he's the father until after the timeskip.

He doesn't just wear his helmet to hide his appearance from others; he can't stand his appearance. He's a splitting image of his father, the man he truly hates. He hides all the mirrors in his living quarters, he can't stand it. Aphmau is the one that truly starts helping him love himself.

Although. After the whole incident featuring a betrayal, portal, and missing 15 years, he feels scared that he is turning out evil just like his father. He hates it. It haunts him everyday.

Also. HE WASN'T AWARE OF WHAT HE WAS DOING.

Firstly, I just need to say, I head canon Garroth to have depression. And I spoke about this a bit before, but seeing the two people he loved the most seemingly hide a relationship behind his back, instead of being open and honest with him just hurt. He fell into a depressive episode, like it was terrible. AND ZANE BEING ZANE used that to manipulate Garroth, having Lillian use magicks and potions or whatever to mind control him. He only broke out of it once Lillian died AND LAURANCE USED THE POWER OF LOVE!

He never truly figures out everything that happens until after he escapes from the Irene Dimension.

Speaking of which, he is SUPER injured after he escaped from there. I. Um. Actually don't know the specific injuries I'm giving him but all I know is he becomes a cane user. So like. Obviously something with his back but I need to like really get the logistics down that's just how my mind works with these things.

In love with Aphmau AND Laurance. He's so silly.

Bisexual masculine non-binary he/they autistic king that also suffers from depression, PTSD, and survivor's guilt.

Like most people believe, he has a dad bod. Like obviously he's muscular, but he's also chubby.

Can't cut his own hair since he doesn't look in the mirror. When he first revealed his face to Aphmau, she helped him out with his beard and hair (and almost braided his hair).

Around 26 years old.

A good singer, but only sang for Laurance while he was recovering. It's their small little thing.

LAURANCE ZVHAL

Okay so firstly, I'm not putting any Shadow Knight headcanons. That's too much.

However, as a result of being a Shadow Knight, he has poor temperature regulation. Like. He's very naturally warm, so he overheats a lot, but in the cold, it's the opposite. He's FREEZING and has to layer up a lot.

Has two gay dads. Which... is canon?? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS. He has Hayden and Joh. They are his gay dads and they raised him. And Cadenza.

Rarely can have a nice, peaceful sleep due to night terrors. He's haunted by the memories of the Nether, and the only times when those thoughts are subdued are when he's sleeping close to Aphmau or Garroth.

Actually the father of Alina. Because it's not Aaron (ew). And he never knows about this. Because he SACRIFICES himself to save Garroth and Aphmau because he loves them, and he doesn't want either of them to hurt or for himself to hurt them due to the calling.

Just to clarify, he and Aphmau did not intend for this by the way. They just had a silly night where they drank a little bit! And then woke up like a rom-com or something and where like "Oh. My. God." LIKE IT SEEMS TO BE SILLY but then it isn't.

Only knows how to crochet a single type of bear plush. Like. NOTHING ELSE.

He had to wash his orange hair like every single day. If he didn't it literally became so greasy and so crusty. And Zoey ended up having to do that while she watched over him. She was so close to just chopping it all off for him.

Garroth was his closest company while he was blind. He often asked Garroth to describe him what he saw in the village.

Once he got cured, he only partially regained his eyesight. He struggles to see a lot, and gets headaches easily. When he goes into Shadow Knight form though, his eyesight gets a lot better; but once he gets out of that form, he experiences so much pain, and his sight goes downhill for a while.

Can braid hair.

Likes to prank his friends a lot through really elaborate scares. SUPER happy once Malachi and Levin started getting involved.

Pansexual and polyamorous and 25 years old.

Sneezes like. Really cutely. Like he has one of those sneezes.

KATELYN

LITERALLY THE MOST MUSCULAR CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. AND TALL.

Her true love was Jeffory. Nothing will ever change that.

When she dated Aphmau, her own grief over Jeffory held back the relationship from blossoming into something more. This applies to all her other relationships as well.

Her anger issues are just simply treated better here. Like. That's all I have to say about that.

Helped care for Aphmau the most (along with Zoey) after Garroth was freed from the Irene Dimension because of how depressed she was over everything. She became really close with Lilith Garnet during this.

Never gets drunk. It's kind of insane. She is wild at taverns and just. Never gets drunk. Her power at that is balanced out with her terrible seasickness.

Doesn't get the appeal of coffee. She hates it, like it tastes so bad to her. She's a tea girlie.

28 years old. But people never guess her age right, like ever. She's eternally youthful despite not having a single skin routine.

Okay this is actually a headcanon and it's based off of a friend I do have in real life. So like yeah I guess in modern times Katelyn is a One Directioner but I guarantee she would be a Deftones fan or something.

okay i planned to do more characters but i literally forgot all mcd characters and my hcs :( SO MAYBE JUST SUGGEST CHARACTERS AND ILL SAY THEM CAUSE THEYRE JUST NOT COMING TO MIND RN also im tired

ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SHOW THAT FOREVER CHANGED MY LIFE. without you minecraft diaries, i wouldve never become the insufferable person i am today <3

[wander-wren]

almost escaped the anti-ao3 posts this donation round but of course today i get smacked with a few, so i go hunting for this year’s arguments, which, as expected, touch a lot on palestine.

what i’m seeing here is a shitton of inflammatory language and very few sources, and even fewer sources that aren’t screenshots of That One Tweet. most of the arguments from both sides are made on things that aren’t entirely true. i dislike this. so let’s clear the air a bit, hm?

1) ao3 is a racist/zionist organization

ao3 has had its scandals, including the 2023 management scandal in its full glory, which you can read about at the linked fanlore article. that covers several different areas where ao3 messed up. i will not defend these instances. i will, however, point out that very few of the current anti-ao3 posts mention them.

additionally, there is this fanlore article specifically about the issue wherein a volunteer was told to remove “from the river to the sea, palestine will be free” from their status, which is the singular piece of evidence referenced for ao3’s zionism. it has been spread that the otw banned or kicked out this volunteer, which is untrue; they left voluntarily. the otw also offered to allow the volunteer in question to change the status to “i stand with palestine,” communicating the same message in a less polarizing way.

you are allowed to dislike this decision. i do. but the otw slack is first and foremost a professional space, and they are within their rights to ask for political discussion to be kept out—or, in this case, to a politics channel so it can be opted out of. i am not currently aware of anyone having asked the otw board to ban or otherwise address pro-israel sentiments in the slack server, so i cannot actually make any statements about unequal decisions, because those decisions were not made.

ultimately i do not disagree that otw/ao3 have made poor choices rooted in racism in the past, but i also believe many of these posts discussing it now are performative, inflammatory, and misleading, which is not helpful

2) donating to ao3 during a genocide is bad/selfish/racist/etc

there are always problems in the world. this is literally the same argument as every previous year with new paint on it. people can care about more than one thing.

3) ao3 is a scam/mismanages money/gets more than they need/is horrible for not paying volunteers

here is a post i made last year breaking down ao3’s budget. what’s funny is, i saw a post going on for paragraphs about how they “calculated” that ao3 has 2.8 million in reserves (assuming their 2023 numbers shook out, it is like $1.5 million at best. these numbers are public and easy to find) and that they have “no idea” what to do with it and are deliberately not being transparent about it (they have publicly stated in news posts exactly what that money is for).

one very confusingly-worded post seemed to argue that it is morally wrong to have volunteer library workers, which is the same as ao3? something about master’s degrees? i just thought that was funny because. like. what. do you think the volunteers are the ones with a master’s in library science, friend?

also, people have said it’s a scam because they don’t update the site, and i’m like….what do you want them to update, exactly? i just want more tags wrangled. i suppose that translates to me wanting an update on the servers or whatever bit of hardware is limiting the tag system. otherwise i don’t see why you have to fix a good thing.

4) ao3 hosts evil bad fanfiction

ah, the age-old “child porn” argument. or racism is a big one this year. do i have to get into this one? it’s so goddamn annoying. just read the about page or a wiki article with your eyes. anti-censorship. yada yada yada. also, if you use the phrase “child porn” i do not respect you or take you seriously.

okay, first of all, fanfiction does not meet the definition of csam. it’s fanfiction. it’s fiction. there are tags for a reason. none of it is illegal. most of it has been published in real books for money before. you can hate it, but it deserves to exist, and with the way explicit material is getting deleted off the internet (see: wattpad’s new policies, google drive’s new policies), ao3 is a last bastion in the storm.

5) you should check out end-otw-racism for more helpful info

honestly i thought this movement was dead by now, but i’ve seen a lot of it mentioned today so i went to check. some things i found, scrolling alllll the way back to august:

a pinned post from SEVEN months ago that is several paragraphs of back-patting from the mods about how much “work” and “goals” have been accomplished and how grateful they are to the community. no mention whatsoever of what those goals were or what specifically was accomplished. also says the mods are going on break for a while, which presumably is still in effect

a few posts about the otw’s board meetings for various months, each rehashing how a board meeting runs and when the next one is being held. no information about what questions or comments the organization wants to focus on for each meeting or specific actions supporters should take

post about substack being a nazi site now (this is the only post i fully respect)

more board meeting reminders of no substance

a post reviewing the board elections, going over each candidate. the post acknowledges that no candidates mentioned the campaign or its specific goals, and instead grasps at vaguely related topics as if to show the volunteers are listening to them and they have done something

more board meeting reminders

a post about an update to the board’s strategic plan for 2023, which also acknowledges that the update does not really do anything end-otw-racism wanted it to do. many instances of “could have been a great opportunity to” do what they wanted. this one DOES finally state eotwr’s “recommendations” for the next strategic plan update, which literally all boil down to “more transparency,” which i suppose is fair enough

absolutely NO mention of palestine whatsoever

post on the weibo scandal, which is fine but generic, and again, not something brought up ever again despite being made in AUGUST

here i will give you a reminder that some of eotwr’s goals, particularly the ones around moderation and censorship, were unrealistic given the otw’s mission. while i believe eotwr started with good intentions, it seems to have rapidly dissolved into something performative and did not have solid enough organization to actually make any difference. their silence on palestine (and they are still posting despite the “break”) also makes bringing them up in convos about otw’s potential zionist leanings very weird.

at the end of the day, support ao3 or don’t. your morals and reasonings are your own. just don’t lie about them in ways that can be easily disproved, mkay?

this discourse also made me realize it’s been a minute since i reblogged a proper donations masterpost for palestine, so i am on the hunt for a good, up-to-date one now. feel free to link me any you know of.

[lesharl-eclair]

lewis ot3 fic recs

for @f1ot3fest !! i promised myself i wouldn't ramble but this turned out ridiculously long so ... i actually need to learn to shut up

all fics below the cut; if you enjoyed these fics, please show the authors comment and kudo love; should you be the author of a fic that's here, and don't want to be here, please reach out to me and your wish is my command :)

NO this is so funny bcs half of this is fics by the creator/recced by the creator BUT ITS OK. THESE LITERALLY ARE SO DEAR TO ME *clutches to chest* please go read please go read

***

heist AU by @sionisjaune (sebcedes)

on golden sands (T, 6.2k)

Mark rolls his eyes. “Skip the crap, Jense. Who’s the mark.” Jenson lifts his whiskey and swallows the dregs. “One Baron Nico Rosberg. Currently installed in Greece, inherited the title from his mother. His father—” “Keke Rosberg. 1982 Formula One World Drivers Champion,” says Seb. The others look at him like he’s just materialized out of thin air. Lewis cocks his head thoughtfully, and the bizarre sleeves of his jacket rustle with the movement.

the ships that go sailing (E, 11.7k)

As it turns out, threesomes are not especially logistically challenging when two of the participants are experienced organizers of high-profile heists, and the third is determinedly horny.

err okay i think this was something i read before i had the concept of sebcedes or like ot3s. so it was a pure yOU CAN DO THAT??? visceral reaction the first time i read on golden sands. i was quaking in my seat. anyway upon sufficient rereads i have apparently collected my thoughts enough to say that the first part of the series is nothing like the second in terms of content (i read all the way to the middle of the ships that go sailing and suddenly realised that it was a sequel and uh. had a very violent reaction.)

the premise is wonderful, oceans 11 is great to begin with and the way every detail is taken care of in the au!! the characterisation of it all... the tangled mess of interpersonal relationship... it feels like every character has their space to shine, and this on top of a quasi-convoluted plot is quite incredible. aND THE SEBCEDES OH MY GOD THE SEBCEDES. the denouement. the start of something that seb can;t even begin to imagine. lewis and nico both being batshit crazy. sex retirement fic. somehow you managed to capture all the nuances (brocedes + seb + the emotional push pull + the competition?? a bit of quiet almost fragile sico? the boat scene hello??? brocedes being so chaotic it gives me whiplash?????) i actually cannot get enough of the way you write them

i can probably write so much more about this but i will stop here :0 maybe one day i will rereview this and end up with a five page essay or something. who knows.

***

Circle Endless by @antimonyandthyme (E, 2k) (brocedes + seb)

“It’s a two-for-one deal,” Nico said, very salesman like, as if he sensed Sebastian just needed an extra push.

the vibes here are so horrifically good. lowkey unhealthy. probably one of THE defining brocedes + seb fics - it's set up and played out as a 2v1 (in 2016!!), and the toxicity of it all is so asasasandsjfadjsfasdfs . there's so much conflict everywhere: within seb, the way brocedes also fight for dominance on the bed (bc of course they do), seb needing more despite whatever it's doing to him... that scene with kimi is pure poetry. so much to unpack in so little, and excellent excellent sex

***

made a hundred good stories by @red-flagging (E, 24.6k) (for a kinkmeme prompt) (alex + sewis)

“That problem you were telling me about,” Seb says, giving Alex a meaningful look. “I wanted to know if you wanted us to help you take care of it. Lewis and I.” This isn’t happening. Alex is having the most stressful, least erotic wet dream of all time. Helmut has gotten bored of subtle nudges and has graduated to full-on psychological warfare to get Alex to quit on his own and save the team from having to buy out his contract. Lewis actually did give him a concussion in Austria, and the long-term brain damage is only now starting to set in. "...You can't be serious," Alex says weakly. Seb shrugs. “You don’t have to say yes,” he says. “But if you’re just looking to have some fun–it might as well be with people who know what they’re doing.”

ok claire. coherence.

I CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS FIC LIKE AT ALL??? i have tried so many times

the alex characterisation. the hellhole that is redbull. the exhaustion. so much DETAIL that it's painful to look at

the galex? the galex. oh my god the way it meanders in all the little spaces between alex's frankly ridiculously busy life, the LAYERS. the so much unsaid & the way they dance around each other even in texts. the way alex holds himself back but still wants.

alex/seb. seb being an all round menace to society (Quite honestly, he sort of forgets the conversation with Lewis even happened up until Bahrain, when Seb sidles up to him on some balcony on Thursday and says, casually, “So, gay cruising, eh?”) ?????? ? ? ? ? the perfect timing of seb's proposition. so much else but the deviousness of it all..

that little bit with alex and lewis. the painful awkwardness of that conversation (but also how much lewis eventually got out of it). seb's retirement & lewis' instant protectiveness!! ^^

the racing metaphors are so apt somehow (and even more fitting because alex has basically been consumed by the redbull grind........) this is a detail i personally really really enjoyed

THE SEX bro i cannot even?????? ???? i cannot do it justice here but um. the sewis is clearly there and framed so strikingly against a hesitant tired alex. the games sewis play. LEWIS GUIDING ALEX.SFSHHGSHGHHHHGG the car's still spinning and the walls that don't exist...... how at the end of it all it's still only glimpses of sewis that alex gets but how it's enough for him to maybe start figuring things out with georgie.... the post sex clarity....

oh this was so damn incoherent wasn't it. this fic made me, to quote @kritischetheologie, reconsider everything i thought i knew about alex albon.

***

a bedroom where your heart is by @hungerpunch (M, 1.5k) (vasewis)

“Someone will have to go for ingredients,” Valtteri says. He does not happen to keep vegan cheese stocked. “I vote the youngest,” Sebastian says, grin sly. Valtteri blinks. “Wait—” “Sorry,” Sebastian says, affecting a suspiciously convincing faux innocence, as if he’s truly apologetic but his hands are simply tied. “Seniority rules.”

closing this with some good achingly wholesome content. FOOD AS LOVE and i am so so so here for it oh my goddddd ... val taking care of sewis and finding the greatest satisfaction from it/it not being always about the sex (though the sex IS good!) and finding contentment in those small domestic-bliss moments/the scene-setting, the food described as lovingly as it's prepared, the quiet early-hour moments and seb in a way the middleground between val's discipline and lewis' indulgence when it comes to mornings... there's so much to just revel in and enjoy here!! a comfort fic in the truest senst of the word. :)

***

that was long. and probably extremely incoherent. oh well. thanks for reading till the end and remember to show the authors some love!!

as always, if you enjoyed this, or if i missed any fic, please let me know :) drop me an ask mayhaps if you would like more fic recs, and i will try my best to give timely unqualified opinions <3

[powwidge]

rant about ochette and temenos and their (negative) parallels

all below the cut for endgame spoilers and everything!!!! just me talking to myself n tryna arrange my thoughts on Temenos, Ochette, and hwo they relate and are in a very contrasting position which is also kind of all in one big messed up parallel. I'm sorry; this has gotten very long! i tried my best keeping it short

okay so we all can agree that starting with Temenos' route is probably the most satisfying since it starts with a fight against Vide, right? yeha so i have some things to say about that in relation to Ochette and the entire theme of the game to begin with

Something clearly links Ochette and Temenos togehter, namely Roi. the implication that the dark entity of Ochette's chapter 1 is Roi si well... more than just clear, I'd argue. and ok listen: this entire thing MAY be me overanalyzing stuff. so u now get the

disclaimer: i am a literature student. i am taught to overanalyze everyhting and it's my RIGTH to! so bear with me. i have very elaborate thoughts on Ochette and Temenos and how they reflect each other in a very contrastign way.

Roi: right with the beginning of Ochette's route and Temenos' chapter 3 (it was his ch3 i beleive, right?) we get Roi and a direct parallel between their stories. the thing is just - Temenos' knew Roi while alive. Ochette knew him while sort of dead and then completely dead. and that remains the single connecting dot/parallel where this is the case. everything else is things being dead for temenos and things being alive for ochette

Ochette has an entire support system which grows as she travels; she has Juvah, her parents implied to be alive in a banter, Akala/Mahina; she gains more friends in Pom, Acta the Smol, Glacis, Tera, that other lady whose name i forgot i'm really sorry, and with her help, even the hateful Cohazeh becomes soft towards them all and the entire village makes friends with the Beasting Village.

now for temenos, we have EVERYTHIGN in contrast. he loses everythign as he travels; first Roi, the pontifex, later on crick (sorry for the mention guys). he loses literally everyone he loves, be it platonic or familial or romantic or whatever; and the enemy to him? the sacred guard? yeah he low key destroys that thing for a while. and while that's still GOOD, i can't beleive it weighs lightly on him especialyl since stormhail is in a rather tense situation with the gaurd and the mei clan as hinted by loads of npcs. everythign good that happens to ochette happens to him, but in the exactly contrasting way.

on to trust: i think i don't need to say much here; ochette is ever-trusting, but learns to actively distrust some peopel on her journey, learning about the lies of people (especially humans), while the exact opposite happens to temenos: temenos learns to trust people. not just the travelers but also crick. the issue? it's at least implied, or u can read into it, that he does trust mindt; and he gets betrayed once more. whereas Ochette, even at the very end, still trusts people. she trusts the hunter trying to kill Glacis regardlessly, she trusts Juvah, she even trusts Lajackal/mahamowl and tries making friends with them. she trusts something that wants to kill her, while temenos nearly gets killed by someone he trusted

flame/belief: i quite like the difference of faith u have in those two; temenos, an inquisitor, who still doubts the flame's existence, who doubts the gods' existence because that's just waht he does - linked to his trust issues once more, obviously. even though he's one meant to have an unshakable belief, yet he's quite the shady guy, and while his intentions may be good, he doesn't always condcut things the correct way. well. looks at his path action. yeah. hmm! okay temmy! go off! on the other side, there's ochette - far away from any kind of institutionally organized religion, and the only traveller directly meeting "the flame", which saves her life, proving its existence once and for all when that's somethign temenos has forever doubted

i don't really WANT to go as far as to say ochette died, but she did NEARLY die. as the only one out of the cast of her story, meanwhile, temenos is the only one ALIVE out of the cast of his story (minor characters like orth aside, same goes for some of Ochette's side characters, btu i'm talking mainly here akjfghkd)

i feel like saying that any character of the 8 travelers is more or less important than the others would be wrong; however, i do believe that if we're talking characters that the story build on, Temenos' and Ochette are high up there. we have parallels inside of the traveller of someone who nearly succumbs to darkness and someone who looks forward to the dawn, no matter what. temenos' route starting with Vide, in my opinion, is a great hint at him being sth akin to a "main character", story-telling wise - i like to personally make a distinction between main cahracters and protagonists. e.g. in OT1, the travelers are the protags, while graham (and perhaps kit, too) is the main character, who the story actively centers around.

While Temenos' is the embodiment of shadow, esp with his closer relationship to Throné in the crossed paths, one who was originally meant to be a vessel for Vide and who def had one of the most tragic stories, Ochette is the embodiment of the flame, always looking forward despite any grievances she might have - again, related to castti in her crossed paths.

you get a character who, if he wasn't picked up by the pontifex, by roi, and crick, might have been part of the moonshade order otherwise - and a character who is so determinedly looking forward to the dawn that she would have never considered it.

my conclusion? I love temmy and ochette a ot and i cannot keep anythign i say short. anyways there's no conclsion these are just rants. if u read that then uh, congrats! u have witnessed my insanity! :)

[ilovedazaiosamu]

“You’ll never escape, dove.”

It was not a beautiful day today, you wondered when was it your turn to have one.

You weren’t allowed to get out of the house without your husband’s permission. He always kept you inside the house, but unless its been a week or so, or that you’ve been behaving well, he’ll take you out to a shopping spree. But what happened today? You tried to do another suicide attempt, again. Now what is your punishment? you weren’t allowed to get out of the house for 2 weeks. Well was that even a punishment anymore to you? You’re already used to it.

In other words, you don’t care. Your husband can lock you up, harm you, starve you, kill you, fuck you, or do anything to you, you won’t give one single fuck about what he’ll do to you.

You had enough of everything, but there was no use of escaping. So you just gave in, deciding to stay quiet and talk if necessary.

Your husband was not happy with that. He didn’t like that you had a neutral expression on your face, which was not showing any emotion at all.

He felt guilty… guilty for not trying to help you with whatever is going on with your head, for not helping you tend your wounds, not listening to you, committing adultery too.

Oh? did he forget? you had the ability to read minds. But now that you know that he’s sorry, you’ll make him suffer. ‘Was I not good enough? not that I care but I think if I was still the hopeless fool in love, I would’ve been upset.’ You thought to yourself.

When your husband went to sleep, you arose from your bed, planning to go to the basement. You knew your husband had weapons in there and you’ll take that opportunity to die.

Stepping into the basement, you saw the collection he had there. ‘I almost forgot that he was in an organization which includes killing people…’ You said, quietly. Walking towards the gun and loading it, putting it onto your head. You heard footsteps, you knew your plan is working. “Goodbye, Mein schatz” You pulled the trigger. He was confused… why? why did things have to end like this? Why did you have to die? he was trying to keep you safe, perhaps he should’ve done it in another way. “NO!” your husband said, with a broken voice, unable to know what to do.

•••••• im sorry this is an old goofy draft☹️

Mein schatz = My treasure

[spocks-husband]

our continuum (enforced infinity). [spirk; Spock is a Q AU]

Words: 2,308

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: S'chn T'gai Spock/James T. Kirk

Genre/Tropes: Obsessive Spock, Mild Yandere Content, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Canon-Typical Violence

AU Details: Spock is masquerading as the science officer of the USS Enterprise when, in actuality, he's a Q with a slight obsession with a certain Starship Captain.

Notes: After several long weeks of waiting, It's finally here! I've completed my Spock Is A Q AU fic-- possibly the first of several depending on how you guys like this one. You all seem like you've been really excited, though, so here it is! Enjoy mes amis <3

Spock, as he was known here, frequently asked himself why he did all of this. Why he continued doing all of this. What was the point? Was there a point? Pretending to be a Human-Vulcan Hybrid Science Officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise for its five-year mission? Altering the memories of his 'fellow crewmates' to ensure they never questioned his presence, that they remembered him being there all the while (not a difficult thing to do, of course, human minds were rather malleable, but it was a somewhat tedious process with a crew of over four-hundred of the insectoid specimens inhabiting the ship)? Spending his time as an immortal, omnipotent being playing pretend amongst creatures he could crush with a wave of his hand if he so wished? Why interest himself in such things? Observing these curious, mortal children parading about their minuscule galaxy, gaping in awe at other creatures of insignificance that they found marginally different from themselves-- it was entirely ridiculous. He could be off, creating new worlds, destroying old ones, exerting his power in whatever marvelous, benevolent way he chose-- yet, instead, here he was, hunched over a primitive console on the bridge of a useless, aluminum-can spacecraft examining readings of lifeforms and planets that he could have killed in his sleep. 

Why?

"Keptin on the bridge!" Ensign Chekov's thick yet boyish Moscovian voice announced to the other members of their bridge crew with an audible grin. Spock found himself sitting up from his examination instinctually to see.

Hazel eyes, golden hair, and that farmboy build stepped off the turbolift with his classic, charming smile and a witty comment that didn't really register in Spock's mind.

Ah. Yes. That was why he was doing all this. 

James Tiberius Kirk, Spock had found, was something out of a Terran romance novel. Of course, being a Q, romance and sex weren't exactly his highest concerns, but in the form he'd currently taken it was undoubtedly of some interest. An amusement, at least. A way to spend his eternity. Besides, he'd grown oddly... attached... to this little starship captain. Who was it, that other Q he'd once known, who said that even God's had favorites? It had been a while-- that particular figure had pranced off into some future timeline for his own mortal amusements-- but nonetheless, he thought of that quote often, and James was certainly one of Spock's. 

"Status report, Mr. Sulu?"

"Approaching the Gas Giant Cythia IV. No signs of life, but some resources of interest," Hikaru answered the captain neutrally, sounding almost bored with that day's assignment. "The survey should be quick. From the looks of it, there isn't much to survey anyway. Atmosphere seems breathable for humans-- and Vulcans-- albeit a bit thin."

"Some microbial life," Spock corrected with a glance at Jim, choosing not to comment on Sulu's mention to him lest he say something incriminating. He'd been good about that thus far, no need to raise suspicion now. "But nothing of significance, and no signs of intelligent life or civilization, developed or not."

"No communications or signals coming in from the planet's surface, Captain," Uhura added. "I concur with Mr. Sulu and Mr. Spock. There isn't much here to look at."

Jim nodded, swinging his legs over the side of his command chair casually as he looked out the viewscreen. "Well, we have our orders to make a short geological and biological survey to report to the nearby inhabited planets-- and I don't think any of us are willing to face a dishonorable discharge because we don't feel like looking around a hunk of space rock for a bit, do we?" There was a short chuckle that sounded about the bridge. "Suggestions for our away team, Mr. Spock?" 

The Q fought a smile, turning away from the captain momentarily. "Our usual procedure should suffice," he replied. "Myself, yourself, Doctor McCoy, and a few crewmen from Biology and Security."

Jim nodded. "Sounds good to me," he replied casually, sending a comm down to engineering to alert Scotty to prepare the transporter for a party of seven.

A cool sixty degrees, a greenish-yellow sky, and a rocky, mountainous horizon-- the planet was actually quite nice, although uninhabited from what they could see. 

The Q could sense otherwise, but they didn't need to know that. Let the little creatures learn on their own. 

Spock kept his eyes on his tricorder, but his mind remained close to James. The young ensign from biology and the two redshirt security men lingered behind, all of them clearly not used to joining away missions. The sensation of being watched was one that the human body was not as sensitive to as they often liked to claim, and in glancing about the younger members of their team he knew they had no clue what was coming for them. It was rather amusing, honestly.

Lurking just beneath the surface of this planet, Spock could feel the vibrations of massive, incredible movement. A consistent, violent shaking-- it was clear as day to him. Of course, he wouldn't be certain until he saw it himself, but he suspected the creature was some sort of massive bloodworm; some kind of gargantuan, insectoid predator with a basic level of primal intelligence but nothing further. Interesting, he supposed. Fascinating, even.

Still, he suspected their standard pattern of occurrence would produce itself; the security officers would most likely die quick, irrelevant deaths, perhaps the Biologist would join them, Jim might end up with some mild, mostly superficial wound that Doctor McCoy would begrudgingly heal once they'd returned to the ship. It was perhaps a cruel cycle that they followed, one that Spock could end with a flick of his wrist if he so chose... but he wouldn't. 

Where was the fun in that? 

It wasn't until far too late, though, that Spock's eyes widened just slightly in the dawning realization that he hadn't accounted for one particularly... irritating... additional factor: Jim's rather vexing altruistic tendencies. 

Since the moment the ensign from Biology-- Winnie Peterson, he believed her name was-- had joined their party in the transporter room, Jim had gotten that... glimmer... in his eyes that was unfortunately common. James had found Winnie... pretty. The thought made the Q's stomach turn, though he wasn't certain as to exactly why that was. He tried not to think about it. In any case, though, Winnie and Jim had spent every moment of the mission thus far casually flirting, her big blue eyes flickering over his uniform every once in a while. Spock frowned. He would be glad to see the predator take its midday meal with her. He didn't even mind that he would have to comfort Jim's silly, human emotions afterward. No, he didn't mind that at all. 

As if qued by that very thought, the colossal, sandy-colored beast tunneled its way to the surface with a brilliant screech, its gaping mouth lined with thousands of teeth.

Spock smirked slightly as the rest of their crew screamed in terror-- but as he ran to join Jim in finding cover, the captain was not where he had been moments before. His eyes widened as he whipped around just in time to watch James throw himself in front of Winnie as the beast attacked her. 

The world seemed to go black. 

Had it sped up?

Slowed down?

Was the concept of time even a true one? 

He supposed it wasn't-- he was a Q after all-- nothing was real if he didn't want it to be. 

Nothing...

Nothing was real...

Nothing... was real...

...

...

...

When he came to his senses, the universe had never felt so quiet, and despite the exhibit of massive power he'd just displayed, Spock had never felt weaker. 

He looked around. 

The bloodworm lay dead on the ground a surprising distance from where it seemed to have first arrived on the surface. Grayish, blue entrails poured from it's torn abdomen, and the vague forms of dead security men could be seen within. Winnie was, thankfully, quite dead as well. Had he done that? She was too bloodied to tell exactly what had done it without closer examination, and Spock found he really didn't care enough to investigate. Her once blue uniform was now dyed a sickly plum color with blood, and her hair sprawled out across the ground as she lay there, face down, unmoving. Not far from her lay Doctor McCoy, also bloodied and unmoving. Spock frowned slightly at this development, he knew that particular loss would be quite upsetting to Jim, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. 

Yet, that begged the question...

Where was James Tiberius? 

Spock glanced around, noting the blood and destruction scattered about the area, but it quickly dawned on him that he couldn't find Jim. Each moment that passed made him more restless to locate his human partner-- and suddenly he found himself in the air, speeding through the sky in a frantic search for wherever he could be. Typically, he would just snap his finger and find himself appearing beside whomever he wished, but something in his mind was... frantic. Animalistic. Primal. He couldn't think straight-- logically as his strange masquerade character would have put it. It simply wasn't an option anymore. 

In time-- hours, days, he wasn't sure, nor did he particularly care-- Spock found Jim, bleeding and pale, hidden in the dark recesses of a rocky cave. The human man was weak, dying-- and as he stared up at the ceiling of the cavern Spock felt a strange pity rise in his chest. Something like caring. Something like love. 

It was an easy enough job to heal Jim's mortal wounds, merely a flick of his wrist and it was as if he'd never been harmed at all. Slowly, James seemed to regain himself, sitting up slowly as the color returned to his face. Slowly, each movement sending subtle jolts of pain through his sore muscles, the human man turned to look at Spock. For a brief moment, there was something like relief in his eyes, something like love, familiarity-- almost the same way Spock had felt when he'd seen Jim for the first time only moments before-- but it faded quickly into... fear. Horrible, tremendous fear. Frantic, sloppy movements led Jim to crawl backward, backing away from the still-floating figure at the mouth of the cave as if he were a wild beast. 

"S-stand back," Jim commanded, his voice loud, yet still quite shaky. "Don't come any closer...!" 

"Jim," Spock frowned, slowly lowering himself to the ground and stepping toward the quivering man at his feet. "I mean you no harm. You know that." 

"Oh? Do I?!" Jim sneered, suddenly rather angry. "You... I don't know what you are or what you've done with Spock-- but you are the farthest thing from harmless and we both know it."

There was a pause before, slowly, Spock began to laugh. 

"What I've done with Spock?" He repeated incredulously, raising a brow curiously. "I am Spock. S'chn T'gai Spock-- your... T'hy'la? Surely you haven't forgotten me so quickly?" 

"... No..." Jim refused quietly, slowly rising to his feet. He reached for his phaser-- only to find nothing in his belt, and swearing quietly. "Spock... My Spock... he wouldn't do this..." 

"Wouldn't he? You just saw it, after all--"

"You killed them!!" Jim snapped. "You killed Bones, you killed Winnie-- You... You are not the man I've spent all this time with. You can't be." 

"You're being ridiculous, James," Spock's face darkened, a subtle malicious glint rising in his eyes. "You and I have been together all these years... We've been quite... intimate... Why now do you decide I disgust you? Hm?"

"You killed my best friend!!"  The human sobbed. "You... Killed him!! He was our friend, Spock!! I don't give a damn what you and I are-- you are a murderer!!" 

There was a pause that hung heavy in the air. Spock was quiet. Jim's only sound was the soft gasps for breath as tears poured down his face. For a long moment, Jim wondered if anything would happen. Would he be killed? Would... Spock... turn around and leave? 

Jim opened his mouth to speak, though he wasn't sure what he would say-- but before he could, he noticed that... something wasn't right. What was it? He glanced around. The floor of the cave was still arid and cold, its ceiling dripping with sharpened stalactites. The sky outside--

Oh. 

There was no sky outside. 

No landscape at all, in fact. 

It was just... emptiness. The blackened chasm of space. Something Jim had known nearly all his adult life, yet something that now felt so unnervingly foreign it made his stomach churn. 

"...What did you do...?" He spoke the question quietly, like a prayer. Spock smiled softly in response, stepping forward and gently taking Jim's face in his hands, holding him as if he were made from glass.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Captain," He replied gently. "This is for the better. The others... distracted you. They do not-- pardon, did not-- understand you the way I do. I am an all-powerful being. The universe bends to my command, my every whim-- and at the moment, I command it to give me you. It is... fate. Destiny. Enforced, perhaps, but still destiny all the same."

There was a long, tense pause. Jim felt his chest swell with something between love and terror, something between the adoration and pining he'd felt for this man with whom he had a relationship he'd never put a proper name to and the overwhelming, eldrich terror of knowing that the creature in front of him, that was touching him, could crush him like an ant. 

Jim took a deep breath.

"... What are you...?" 

Spock laughed quietly. 

"I'm yours, of course, what else would I be?"

[emojellyace08]

Hii-! I have come back with a very weird and strange request. Can we have a reader who is perfect in every way. But..the catch is..what if they weren't human?..like maybe like a Angle,demon,succubus/Incubus or a siren?? Idk something not human! How would u think the lookism characters react to it and how would they find out? Also reader is a good fighter!!

Its fine if this request is so weird and you don't want to write it I totally understand!! Please do ignore this Also have a nice day/evening or night♡

♡"Lookism Men x Demon! Female Reader" ♡

A/N: Thx for the request! I'm personally going to enjoy this one bc I really like horror/supernatural kind of genre and I'm going to be inspired by some of my fav manga characters and their abilities but I'll make other ideas for this character/oc? (which is just not really obvious on my media here lol). Genre: not really fluff and lemon ; slight angst (but there are some cute parts though) TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of g*re, bl**d, organs/limbs, mut*lat*on, mentions of social anxiety and depressive episodes, kidnapping, cannibalism, trust issues, toxic relationships at some parts, NOT FOR SENSITIVE AND YOUNG AUDIENCES Another thing, if you're having thoughts like these I suggest that you don't read this. It's okay if you like gore and the horror genre but don't take anything personally! And stay safe and healthy (keep your physical and mental health in check)

Guide: Y/N (Your Name/Self Insert)

Age: (same age with the character of choice)

Sex: Female (feel free to change if you're uncomfortable)

Abilities: body mutilation, regeneration, immortality (slowly getting physically or looking old but you do have a birthday), clone making, weapon making, strategic planning, whatever else you want to add in.

Talents: *self insert*

Weaknesses (I want to give her some flaws): hand to hand combat, weakness of fire/heat, bad luck, (Bonus!: overthinker in calculations, slow memory and naïve at times, poor eyesight, lacks leadership and socializing, easily gets distracted, short tempered)

Is her powers cursed? Nobody knows. Though the only way to break it and to make her finally rest in peace is to learn how to love (cheesy Ik but let me explain later on). Not meaning to be edgy, but she hears voices in her head and she hallucinates of a beautiful (almost perfect) looking girl saying nasty things for her to do. Good thing she can control it at times.

Gun Park/Goo Kim/James Lee (DG)/ Yoojin (Eugene)/Olly Wang/Jiho Park (villain arc)/ Cheon Taejin/ Charles Choi (Elite)/ Tom Lee/ Baek Hangyul/Jinyoung Park

Oh boi, they seem to be chill and unbothered about your abilities but you know deep down that they're probably planning something about you. You're going to be a great weapon machine. Yoojin, Goo, and Baek might even acknowledge this as a great feat. But you know that behind that smile there's a foul intention hiding.

(Not promoting this behavior!): You seem to have trouble with trusting your peers making socializing hard for you. It may seem to be an easy task for most people but it can be a challenge for you. You may be good with your preferred hobbies but you know deep down that doing simple tasks in your daily life can be troubling. Good thing that he has your back for most times to protect you from harm, even if you're immortal.

This might sound toxic but I think most guys in this list/category will probably use you for their own advantage. Whether it's for strategic planning or in a physical fight he will be willing to train you because he believes that you got so much crazy potential. It's no big deal (no pun intended) for him if you got your arm or leg broken if you even got regenerative abilities (Jinyoung might kidnap and drug you out of "pure" curiosity of what the hell is your body capable of). It's also another interesting thing if you can make your own weapons. At least you can defend yourself from opponent's attacks even when you're losing. But he thinks that your abilities is not enough. You need to train, you need to get stronger since he saw that flaw on you that you depend on weaponry. Expect him to either whoop your ass for a beating everyday or do scientific experiments on you to know if you got more abilities that you are hiding from him and he wants to know your limits. Your endurance, durability, speed, IQ and defense are one of your greatest feats. But you often struggle to take the offense and with your strength, stamina and you need more battle knowledge plus experience. He wants to make you his greatest weapon.

It may be easy for them to just beat you in one punch or kick, but he knows that he may be fighting death. It doesn't mean that he's better at hand and hand combat is that you're not going to bring your guard down. You got your weapons and the only way to evade your attacks is if he is fast enough or if he has insane durability. Despite appearing as a normal being at times, you get easily agitated and stressed. This may trigger your powers and even a single scratch or drop of blood can produce another clone of you own even if it's a really slow process. And you getting pissed off is dangerous, it can cause chaos on your surroundings and you might even unintentionally harm the ones you consider your family. He might consider training your attitude though.

He might even make theories or hypothesis about your abilities. Is it a curse or is it really on your genes? But so far he knows that based on what you said, you never really find or felt love even from your close "friends" or family. He asked why you felt this way but you just don't really know the answer. If you actually get to know each other and have a deep connection he might actually like you, though at times it's just not obvious. He might not be the most affectionate but he promises that he'll try to be more gentle with his approach. You don't know if you could trust that though.

Sinu Han/Kuroda Ryuhei/Vin Jin/Gongseob Ji/Doo Lee/Jake Kim (Goo Kim ; a bit he's more chill than the others above)

Another one who's not really disturbed by your abilities or yourself. But he's not going to use you either. He's fine with you being a succubus or a demon as long as you won't hurt anybody intentionally. Though he can't help but to be amazed by it. "Wow! You can really do that? Can you show me a trick of yours or something?" "Do I really look like a dog to you?" He's just going to let you be. You are you and he wants you to live your best life.

GORE WARNING: He's not really demanding you to help him to deal off his enemies but he'll still appreciate your help nonetheless. But he'll still get really worried about you since he deeply cares tbh. He knows that you're not really a pro with hand to hand combat. But your creation ability and regenerative powers is a great advantage. But he doesn't want you to get hurt. Trust me he'll be in a state of shock when you started crying when you broke your arm or when it got cut off. Your limbs may have the ability to grow back, but you can still feel the pain and it may take a while for it to grow another clone of yours. So it's best if you don't make him worried, he can handle this business on his own.

He lowkey gets scared when you have an episode (like for example when Tomie grows another clone of hers when being triggered or mutilated). He wants to help you out as possible to just stop the drama but he doesn't know how to approach you when these events happen. He will try his best to comfort you though after.

He always feels bad that you experience getting mutilated over and over again. As you explained to him, the more you get revived, you slowly lose your humanity and sense of empathy. You often tried your best to mingle with other people but you end up being awkward and coming out as loud and strong to them making most avoid you. This frustrates you a lot as you want to live peacefully but your powers won't just let you be. He will try his best though in including you to social events and daily activities like partying and spending time with his friends and acquaintances so he hopes that you'll enjoy and appreciate his efforts! And if you're in a romantic relationship with him, he'll make you feel that you are worth it and he'll make you feel loved. Who knows the devil inside you might calm down for a while as you enjoy your moments with him.

Daniel Park/Jay Hong/Zack Lee/Vasco (Lee Eun Tae)/Jace Park/Eli Jang/Warren Chae/Jerry Kwon/Lineman/Brad Lee/Kwak Jihan & Jibeom/Jiho Park/Yuseong/Duke Pyeon/Xiaoleoung

He was a bit concerned with your abilities, almost not believing you at first if you asked me. Daniel might understand you more than the other guys in this list because of his ability to pass his consciousness with his two bodies at will. For sure you know that he was a bit scared about what you are capable of. Though he tries to be respectful with your feelings as possible since he doesn't want you to feel left out or feel misunderstood. Vasco, Jerry, Lineman, and Zack may ask questions again while you can hear his voice getting shaky mixing with his curiosity. (Cannibalism warning!) "Yo-You're a demon? Do you eat humans?" "I can if I want to make myself more powerful. But in exchange of that, I will completely loose my control over myself. So not necessarily because I don't want to. My diet is composed of what humans eat so you don't have to be scared, though it's understandable if you want to distance yourself from me." "NO NO IT'S OKAY I PROMISE!" "SH! BE QUIET!"

With the other more mature guys in this list, he may ask why you have the ability to make yourself to be stronger with you eating others. "It depends on the person. If I consumed a beautiful teenager around my age, I might be able to resemble like her or get some of her striking attributes like her prettiness. Or if I ate a powerful opponent, my hand to hand combat or creation will get more stronger and deadlier. It can probably enhance my regenerative powers but I wouldn't risk it. It can feed her up at have complete control over my body." "Who's her?" he asked as you pointed something behind his back with the coldest eyes. "Behind you." (ANOTHER THING! If someone is completely concerned or is actually really emotionally close with you they might see what you're seeing. It's a really pretty girl almost resembling like you, but her physical appearance has no flaws. But the one of the main difference between the two of you is that her attitude is, well not really pleasing and good if you asked me. She can't also touch other people but she can control you when you're experiencing uncontrollable negative emotions, hence it's the reason why you switch personalities in times of stressful events).

He'll be in a state of panic when you limbs got cut off again. He might take you to the nearest hospital but you told him that doctors will probably hold an experiment on you if they learned about your regenerative abilities. So the only solution he can make up with is him stitching your limbs together so you wouldn't produce another clone. After some weeks your body is back to normal and there is no hint of scars on your arms and legs. He is relieved that you are feeling better now.

You mentioned of how you never felt satisfied with your daily life despite being talented at the things you do. He may ask the reason why but you couldn't really find the answer. You often see your classmates chatting and having a great time, why couldn't you have that too despite helping them out when they need assistance? Are you not enough? Are you boring or too loud? Are you ugly? You couldn't even know the answer. The only theory he can make up is that your insecurities and hatred against other people can feed up the "demon" in you to be stronger and take over you. And that hallucination of yours is a reflection of your wrath, envy, and greed getting stronger if you loose control because of you looking for your own perfection. So you got to take a hold on yourself and actually start appreciating yourself. He doesn't blame you if you feel insecure about yourself, but you got to start to change and be more open to everybody even to him if you need advice in your life. He'll make you remind that despite having your own flaws, your kindness shouldn't be abused by other people who wants to take advantage of it and he's thankful that you helped him out in his darkest times when others can't or don't want to. And you shouldn't bring yourself down most of the times. But your "friend" is not pleased with this though. She often reminds you that you're just a pawn to be used by other people and how you wouldn't be strong or approachable without her. Often gaslighting you at times since she's scared of getting physically weaker because of your humanity taking over. So you and him have to work hard to make this bitch calm down. He'll give you lots of hugs and kisses and whispering to your ear about how he loves you. It's your guardian angel helping you out as best as possible battling with your worst enemy, the devil in your head and consciousness.

Samuel Seo/Johan Seong/Hudson Ahn/Daniel Park (post-Gun training arc)/Jace Park/Magami Kenta/Kwak Jichang/Taesoo Ma/Mandeok

He's not really surprised or disturbed by this discovery. But that doesn't mean he's not concerned. It might have hurt on your part to be cut off over and over again. And it might not be obvious since he's mostly calm at times but he doesn't like it when he sees you experiencing this phenomenon. It may have been something along with black magic or a curse even if he doesn't really believe in those unrealistic stuff. But so far he believes that what you're experiencing is not scientifically possible.

A little background story: He'll be asking why your devil just wouldn't leave you alone. You explained to him that you didn't knew either as you just woke up with no prominent scars or wounds on your body. You remembered being in a fight with your so called "friends" who have betrayed you and who have taken your life somewhere between the woods when they asked you out for camping. The authorities couldn't lock them up because of lack of evidence against them. Then you just woke up on your house like nothing happened. You were shocked that the year was different from when you died, maybe around 1987. You tried making contact with the people you used to know in your past life but you couldn't get a hold on them. They're probably dead or they may have forgotten about you. You just didn't know. He suggested if you got reincarnated in a new body but it's far from truth. Your body still looked exactly the same like in the past. And it just doesn't make sense if you woke up with a devil whispering to your ear about the nastiest shit ever and you just don't age at all.

He'll also be in a state of shock the moment your body produces another clone or when your limbs got cut off. He doesn't know what to do since you producing a clone that gets stronger can affect your mental health and you're both in the middle of a fight that can harm both of your lives. He will have a hard decision if he should just run away with you or fuck up that bastard's face for getting you hurt.

Like I said, they might not be the most affectionate out of the bunch but some of them are more mentally stable than the others above except for Samuel and Johan but anwaysss. He'll make sure that you eat normally and sleep well. He'll have a chat with you there and then so it wouldn't trigger your negative emotions and keep them in control. And he'll also spend his quality time with you even when he's tired like cuddling with you on the bed and giving your head some pecks.