#and the epilogue will tie up the rest of the loose ends
Note
Under the influence pt2 in January 2024???
that's the plan anon... I'm in full writers mode, I've been working hard and I think a january / february release is very possible...
and with how things are looking the second chapter will likely be in the 50k words zone all by itself, and it's like 80% smut so that's a whole lot of aki fucking LOL
#would one say too much aki fucking? no. never.#I have plans to beef out the ending more though#and the epilogue will tie up the rest of the loose ends#do not take a singular thing I say to heart though#because if life gets in the way it might take a little longer#I will say though that I am writing it's just taking forever because this shit is long af!!!!#I'd never abandon the fic or give up#and I've been enjoying writing so much recently... I'm very happy#I want to write whenever I have the time and energy!!#ask mags
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Symphony of dreams
Morpheus x Female Reader
With Rose Walker now living her own life, Morpheus must tie up some loose ends. Most of all, he needs to fix things with his beloved wife.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter}
Warnings: The end of the story!
Epilogue
☆☆☆
You walk down to the shore with Lucienne to where Morpheus had requested your presence. He was working. Normally, he didn't want to be disturbed while he worked, but clearly today was an exception.
He was building new Dreams and new Nightmares.
"My lord," Lucienne addresses him. "Sorry to disturb you while you're working."
"I did call for you."
"Yes..."
"Is something wrong?" He asks.
"No, it's something lovely, actually. A new book appeared in the library this morning by Rose Walker."
You smile softly.
Lucienne holds up the book titled 'Into the night.'
"And how is it?" Morpheus asks, amused.
"You may take issue with the depiction of the king in the story, but... I loved it." Lucienne says.
You chuckle softly.
"She is the daughter of the Endless with quite a story to tell." Morpheus smiles.
"Are you making new Nightmares to replace Gault and the Corianthian?" Lucienne then asks.
"The world does not need a new Corianthian quite yet. In fact... will you keep this somewhere safe for me?" He holds out the skull he had kept in his pocket. "I am finishing a Dream."
"I'll leave you to it then." Lucienne says, turning to leave.
"Lucienne."
She turns back around to face Morpheus.
"Do you not wish to say hello?" He asks her. You look at him curiously as the Dream on front of him starts to take form.
You smile when you see Gault with a new pair of fairy wings. She opens her eyes.
"You look gorgeous, Gault." Lucienne says.
Gault smiles. She walks over to Lucienne. "Thank you." She twirls as she takes in her new form. "May I ask what made you change your mind about me, sir?"
"I had no right returning here after over a century expecting everything to be as just as I left it." He says. "Lucienne tried to tell me that. So did you. But now I'm listening. Or trying to."
You smile softly at your husband.
"New Dreams. New Nightmares. A new age." He looks at you.
You smile and nod at him.
"Thank you, sir." Gault smiles at him. She winks at Lucienne and then takes flight. You watch her go with a smile.
"I might be here awhile." Morpheus says softly. "Would you mind taking care of things while I work?" He asks, looking at Lucienne.
"With pleasure, sir." Lucienne smiles.
Lucienne heads back. You do not see any reason you had been called down here and turn to leave to, but his voice stops you.
"Wait."
You turn back around and look at him. He looks at you.
"I called you here."
"Yes. You did." You confirm softly. "I assumed to show me Gault. Very good work."
He smiles. "Come here." Morpheus extends his hand out to you, waiting for you to accept it. You smile softly as you reach out and take his hand, stepping closer to him. Morpheus pulls you in even closer, wrapping you up in his coat, holding you close to him.
"I love you," he whispers softly.
You smile. "I love you too."
"I am sorry I hurt you. That I caused you pain."
"Do not apologise," you say softly. "You did what you had to do, and all turned out well in the end. Rose lives. The Dreaming is healing. You are here."
"As are you."
You smile at him. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Neither am I, my love."
Your forehead rests against his. "My darling."
Morpheus kisses you. He kisses you like he hasn't kissed you ever before. He pulls you in even closer, focusing on your lips. This is a man who loves his wife unlike anything before.
You are happy. As is he.
The Lord of Dreams and his beautiful Lady of Hope.
Morpheus couldn't ask for more than that.
☆☆☆
@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 - @lollipopsandlandmines - @mouth-whore -
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
TnK's Trigun Fic Listing
Ok now that I've got 15 fics out for Trigun (so far) and at least a couple of those are upwards of 20K and some of them are sequels and followups and ongoing, I thought maybe I should do a proper list of things, to make it easier for people who want to read in some kind of order. I'm terrible about talking up my own work but this is also for my own reference so that's fine, right? ^^; All fics are Vashwood-centric (I will get to Nai in a minute I have a backlog) and ratings vary from Gen to Explicit, though all are intended for an adult audience. This list is complete as of September '23, I will update it periodically as needed!
NB: I'm lucky enough to have gotten fanart for some of these and sometime when my head is not full of mud I'll go in and add links to those where I can. (Or please drop a link in the replies if you are one of the wonderful artists in question!)
THE BIG THREE STORYLINES:
Someday Out of the Blue & I Believe in the Kingdom Come
Trigun '98 canon. Reincarnation fic. The first one is a story I started writing over 20 years ago and quit after a chapter because I was just too heartbroken (and did not know it, but was also too young). Picked it up and finished it this April (2023) after Stampede clobbered me and I fell off the "we don't talk about wolfwood" wagon. The second story is a direct sequel to tie up some loose ends from the first one, and also to indulge my need for a proper happy ending. (I think a lot of folks don't realize Someday has a sequel but it does!!)
Black is the Color and Mysterious Ways
Trimax Canon. Resurrection/Fix-it/Angstmance with a much shorter, sillier, smuttier epilogue. Three years after the end of Trigun Maximum, Vash is having some trouble laying his ghosts to rest. (You may have seen this incredible artwork which has gotten around a bit and boosts the story better than any summary of mine possibly could.) Weird things happened when I was writing this, I don't mind telling you. Mysterious Ways was mostly an excuse to explore some of the more interesting concepts brought up by the first one, but saying anything more would be spoilery.
Eyes of the Storm
(Mostly) Trimax canon. Cryptid Vash AU, slowburn romance, ongoing. When Nicholas D. Wolfwood gets roped into being the new caretaker for the now-abandoned orphanage where he spent his childhood, he soon finds out that his own hidden memories are not the only thing haunting him. (What the fuck is a Typhoon?) Wolfwood, Vash, Livio, Elendira, et al. This is the one currently in progress at six chapters out of ??. Pretty SFW so far BUT NOT FOR MUCH LONGER CAVEAT LECTOR.
List continues with standalone and shorter fics below the cut!
Honeymoon
Generic Trimax/98 setting. Plant Heat, Wingfic, Tentacle Fic, What the fuck is Hay Fever. Wolfwood offers to help Vash out with a personal problem and gets a little more than he bargained for.
Strange Powers
Generic Trimax/98 setting, comedy/smut/potato jokes/fisting with a loaded prosthetic. What if Vash and Wolfwood (accidentally) got really, really hella high?
Hurricane
Trigun '98 Canon.
Vash: Make money? As a priest?
WW: Well. *mysteriously* Not only that.
Vash: (oh my gosh he's a prostitute)
Shortfic. Wolfwood tries to figure out how to offer his services to someone he doesn't really want to be a paying customer. Short and smutty while also demolishing Wolfwood's professional boundaries.
Skin Tight
Generic Trimax/98 setting. The Infamous Red Dress. PWP, Wolfwood needs to be in the Vash Sensory Deprivation Tank, Vash in high heels, the dress gave its life for this fic you should read it and honor its sacrifice. Look. This is just porn, guys. You want the porny fic? This is the porny fic. (just kidding most of them are porny fics but this one is especially so.)
Secondhand Secrets
Generic Trimax/98 setting. Introspective/Vignette/Wolfwood POV. Vash's artificial arm always moves in his sleep, and Wolfwood wonders what he's looking for.
Personal Jesus
Badlands Rumble canon (post-film), Wolfwood has poor emotional coping strategies, hurt/comfort (Wolfwood provides both), first-time. That red hotel minifridge never stood a chance.
A Fool From Any Direction
Trigun '98 Vash's weird horny schtick is a front, and self-respect doesn't save lives. Which is too bad because when Wolfwood finds out what Vash is planning next he's gonna kill him.
Benediction
Trimax but could also be '98; Sometimes being a hero is not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe Vash is the one cracking up. Hurt/Comfort, Wound Care & Bible Quotes, Noman's Land is a bitch of a planet. Shortfic, feels, non-explicit/no sex.
A Bit of a Tight Spot
Generic Trimax/98 setting. Costume Porn, PWP, No corsets were harmed in the making of this fic. I feel like this one gets missed a lot which is MADDENING because you guys. WOLFWOOD'S DOUBLE Ds IN A CORSET. And like, in a gender euphoria way, not in a comedy drag kind of way (though comedy drag does make a small appearance). I don't know how the good minister tightlaced in cuban stockings while giving Vash a blowjob in front of a mirror in the attic of a whorehouse can get so often overlooked, maybe my title or summary is lacking, but it's one of the hottest things I've ever written and its engagement is just in the basement? When (emphatic baffled hand motions to Nicholas D. Wolfwood wearing a garter like a thigh-holster). Anyway.
The Quick and the Bed
Trigun '98 Comedy, Romance, First Time. The single bed trope. Drunk Idiocy. Wolfwood's vows are in serious danger. (Wolfwood does not have vows.) Readers have let me know that they find this one amusing. Roommates of readers have sent me threats of bodily harm due to badly-stifled hysterical laughter at 3am.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW MORE STORIES WILL BE ADDED AS THEY OCCUR!
SMALL DISCLAIMER: I'm a full-time working writer and my fanfic is something I give away for free out of love. Please don't copy, alter, plagiarize, feed to AI in any form, fold, spindle, or mutilate. I'm not in the market for concrit, but if you like my stories please feel free to leave me a comment/kudo, download/print/fanbind for personal use, or let other readers know!
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37
Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List
Word Count: 19K
Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!
Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.
Alternatively: The one with some closure.
A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.
This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!
Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:
chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)
Chapter 37
Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.
She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump.
That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak.
For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”.
Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.
She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods.
(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)
And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement.
Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)
It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”
Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter.
“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”
Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other.
“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“
“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again.
“Oh, no, she’s-“
“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”
Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow.
When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least.
Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to.
///
Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps.
To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies.
Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever.
They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself.
And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out.
///
You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”
You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good.
The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came.
Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years.
You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it.
Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”
He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago.
And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive.
///
Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least.
But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today.
He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents.
“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”
The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands.
“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny.
“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return.
By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that.
Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.
To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”
His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here.
“Whatcha makin’?”
His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband.
“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.
Oh.
And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood.
“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”
“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”
“He can have mine, then.”
Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself.
“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”
And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them.
“That was cruel.”
“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”
“I’ll clean them, then.”
There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink.
“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”
“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”
“Be grateful, I don’t know!”
Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway.
“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”
“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”
“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”
“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”
“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”
“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I’m tired of pretending that he’s not.”
Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss.
Number one: Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over!
Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery.
Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.
He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime.
“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t.
“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door.
“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”
Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.
“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”
His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”
“Okay.” He said back.
Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t.
“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead.
She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway.
“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”
Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid.
“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
///
The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting.
He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.
When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute.
He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music.
He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out.
When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants.
///
You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones.
You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down.
You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek.
“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”
You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan).
“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.
(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)
“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”
You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”
“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”
“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”
“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”
You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”
Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”
You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded.
“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”
///
Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out.
You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back.
“HEY FUCKER.” Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.
“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”
“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”
“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”
“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”
You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it.
“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”
“Because she hates me.”
“She doesn’t-”
“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”
It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next.
“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”
What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”
“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”
“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”
“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”
///
Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie. You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now.
(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)
When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet.
“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”
“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”
“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”
You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”
That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.
“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”
“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”
“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”
“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”
“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”
For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh.
“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”
He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”
He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”
“I’m just saying…”
You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”
“Why what?”
“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”
It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”
“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”
“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him. “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“
“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“
“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”
“It’s not!“
“It’s is!”
Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”
You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it.
“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”
“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?”
You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”
“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”
Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”
He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”
“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”
He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“
“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“
You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.
“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“
“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”
Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent.
“I’m not either.”
“Kind of seems like you are.”
“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”
“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”
“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped.
“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“
“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”
“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”
“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”
You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind.
“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”
“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”
“So did I!”
“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”
“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy all the time!”
He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.” You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”
“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.” He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”
You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out.
“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”
“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”
“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”
It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck.
“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”
“But you were mad at me. I know.”
“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”
You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain.
“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“
“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”
“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”
“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”
“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“
“You don’t need to feel guilty.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You do not.”
“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”
“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”
“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”
“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”
“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”
You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend.
“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored.
“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”
“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”
“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”
“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”
“That’s not what I mean-“
“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”
Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”
You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure.
“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”
Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway.
“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”
He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.
“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”
You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.
“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”
“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”
“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”
He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it.
“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”
Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”
“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes.
“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”
You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful.
“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“
“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”
///
The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over.
The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”
Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.
“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”
And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier.
///
By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom.
He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room.
“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”
“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”
Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”
“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.
“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.
“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”
He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”
“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”
“You were jealous?”
You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”
“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”
You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.
Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”
“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”
Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”
“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”
Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing.
“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”
“It’s fine.”
“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”
You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”
“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”
“It’s not a big deal…”
It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned.
“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”
Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force.
You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.
You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans.
“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”
Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”
You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”
“You want to put it all in our room?”
“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”
Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you.
“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”
“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”
He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.
“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”
You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”
He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek.
“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”
“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”
He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.
///
You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”
You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing.
“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”
“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy.
“You don’t like yellow anymore?”
“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”
“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”
You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”
He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”
You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it.
///
You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you.
“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”
She sighed. Bad sign.
“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties.
You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker.
“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”
“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”
You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”
Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”
Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.
“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand.
“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”
Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke.
“What happened?”
His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)
“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”
“What the fuck are you taking about?” You asked, put opened on your stomach.
“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”
You looked at each other, mouths agape.
“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”
Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands.
“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.
“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”
“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”
You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands.
“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”
Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening.
“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked.
“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”
Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”
“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.”
It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind.
Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it.
“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”
Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable.
“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”
It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke.
“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”
He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry.
“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.
“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”
You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”
He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately.
“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”
You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too.
“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”
You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten.
///
A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days.
Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.
On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).
Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen.
His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner.
“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”
“Why are you here?”
He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.
“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”
Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”
“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”
Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here.
“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”
His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”
Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time.
“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.
His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.
“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”
His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder.
“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”
“Fuck yeah!”
“You can do better than that”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”
Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically.
“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”
“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”
“Well I am, aren’t I?”
“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”
His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon.
“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”
Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head.
“Can you show me?”
His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”
“Okay.”
Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him.
“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners.
“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”
///
“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door.
“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist.
“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”
Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”
“You can unpack tomorrow.”
Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever.
Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway.
“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy.
The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though.
“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”
Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”
“You did?”
Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”
This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.
But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”
Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”
Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand.
(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)
Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel.
They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great.
“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”
She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it.
“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”
///
“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful.
Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)
“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”
He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”
“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”
“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”
His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart.
“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”
“With a tattoo gun?”
“With a needle.”
His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”
His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up.
“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”
“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”
“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t.
“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”
His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”
The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”
“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”
For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long.
“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”
His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”
Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too.
“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.”
Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?”
His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”
Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean.
“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”
“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”
Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either.
“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”
///
On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day.
He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain.
By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?
Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood.
“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in.
“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”
Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat.
“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning.
“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”
Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is.
Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would.
“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”
“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”
She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up.
“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”
Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”
“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”
Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them.
“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it.
“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”
(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)
“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”
Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.”
Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home.
“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“
“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”
“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”
“Moved in together?”
“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”
He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly.
“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”
“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”
“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true.
“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”
Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas.
“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”
She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something.
“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to.
Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you.
And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck.
“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy.
“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm.
“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”
“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed.
“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”
“Yes, baby.”
“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”
He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true.
Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed.
“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”
“What baby?”
He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second.
“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”
The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan.
“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”
She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once.
He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo.
“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave.
“Sorry-“
“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”
He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough.
///
It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least.
That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic.
Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed.
But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.
“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged.
“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”
#blacking out and breaking hearts#bobh#harry styles#harry#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles self insert#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x yn#harry styles x y/n#love on tour#hslot#harrys house#harry styles imagine#harry styles story#smut#fluff#angst#fanfiction#fan fiction#writing#series#one direction
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
Royal Nirvana (2019) - 鹤唳华亭 - Whump List
List by StayDandy
Synopsis : A story that follows Crown Prince Xiao Ding Quan who faces enemies from all sides and falls in love with a maidservant who wants to kill him. He is a son simply yearning for his father's love, wants nothing more than to be a dutiful son and subordinate, but his father, the Emperor, is distant towards him because he is backed by his maternal uncle and the army the latter controls. Meanwhile the Emperor turns a blind eye to his illegitimate son Xiao Ding Tang's ambition to take the throne. Despite the conflicts, the crown prince is a man willing to sacrifice his life and reputation for his country. (MDL)
Whumpee : Crown Prince Xiao Ding Quan played by Luo Jin
• Gu Feng'en/Jia Yibo [Ding Quan's maternal cousin] played by Zheng Ye Cheng
Country : 🇨🇳 China
Genres : Historical, Psychological, Romance, Family, Political, War, Bromance
Notes : This is a Full Whump List
• Even though this drama is quite long, kinda depressing, and only about half whump (tho there's a shit-ton of emotional whump that I didn't note), I still think it's worth the watch. It's really well made and acted!
• There are quite a few heart-wrenching moments. Ding Quan is an emotional character (I mean that as a positive note). I felt so sorry for him most the time, & in the few moments where he finally found acceptance or acknowledgment, it's so touching.. but the good moments never seem to last long enough. He's not a perfect character by any means, not above using dirty tricks to reach his goal, but still, I just wanted to give him a big hug by the end of it all.
• Episode 60 has an after credit scene that connects it to a 12 episodes Epilogue that was released a few months later called Royal Nirvana Special (2020). Apparently they are episodes that were originally cut from the series. Where I found it to watch it was only subbed up to ep4 (& poorly at that). Still, I did quickly flip through the rest of the episodes. It ends in tragedy, and I decided I won't be making a list for it. Even though the Special does tie up a few loose ends, you can make do without, and if you (like me) want a marginally happy ending I suggest you don't watch it.
Episodes on List : 32
Total Episodes : 60
*Spoilers below*
01 : Xiao Ding Quan is kneeling in the snow to plead to the emperor.. freezing & shivering … collapses forward, supported, carried … [flashback] banging on a door until his knuckles bleed
02 : [flashback] Banging on a door until his knuckles bleed
06 : Jia Yibo is flogged a few times as punishment
07 : Ding Quan's palm is slapped as punishment
13 : Falls off his horse when it is shot, arm hurt (possibly dislocated ?, not explained further)
14 : … continued from previous ep. ... Arm hurt, Jia Yibo slings it for him
15 : [flashback] Ding Quan falling off the horse … [present] pain from his arm
16 : Nightmare … [flashback] falling off the horse … [present] pain in his arm while sleeping … locked up in a carriage wrapped closed with cloth (on the way to being exiled), watches his teacher/father-figure die for him
17 : Drunk, grieving … beats his own hand until it is bleeding
18 : Jia Yibo is drunk
20 : Ding Quan's hands shaking
24 : Jia Yibo is punched
34 : Ding Quan is coughing, has a cold
35 : Knocked out
36 : Coughing, sick … slapped
37 : Kneeling in a hot courtyard … passes out
39 : Whipped until his back is bleeding & collapses, passes out … wounds tended to … wounds pressed on … passes out
40 : Wounds tended to
41 : Palm slapped as punishment … Jia Yibo is tied up … Ding Quan's hand is tended to
42 : Drunk … Jia Yibo is throwing up
46 : Ding Quan is bitten by a caterpillar
47 : (near end) Throwing up after overeating
48 : *not whump : @19:02 he has hiccups 😂, also a result from overeating
49 : (near end) Steps on a piece of broken metal, cutting his foot … hands shaking
50 : (near end) Flogged … carried, unconscious, clothes bloody
51 : … continued from previous ep. ... Wounded, weak, & bedridden … difficulty moving … assisted to walk … bleeding through his clothes … difficulty moving, can't hold a brush to write
54 : Handcuffed … confined … refusing to eat (the subs took a sudden down-turn to google-translate level, just as everything is culminating! .. it really sucks, because they were pretty good up till now)
55 : … continued from previous ep. ... Confined, refusing to eat … Jia Yibo is tied up to a post, weak, dehydrated.. released, given acupuncture treatment … Ding Quan's finger is pricked to draw blood … Jia Yibo is sick … transported by cart … Ding Quan is interrogated, tied to a chair
56 : … continued from previous ep. ... Tied to a chair, interrogated, tortured; bottom of his foot beaten with a thick metal rod
57 : (at end) Jia Yibo is cared for
58 : Ding Quan is still handcuffed & confined … (near end) breaks his fingernail, passes out
60 : (of course the subs get better just in time for the last ep!) … Throws up blood
#whump#whump list#full whump list#Asian whump#China#Royal Nirvana#鹤唳华亭#Xiao Ding Quan#Gu Fengen#Jia Yibo#Luo Jin#Zheng Ye Cheng#Historical#Psychological#Romance#Family#Political#War#Drama#Bromance#cold#freezing#shivering#collapses#carried#bleeding#flogged#beat up#slapped#falls
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yesterday, my lovely friend @whereisela and I got to discussing what our ideal ending to the Dream SMP would be, given the state of the SMP as it stands right now.
And I thought I’d share it. ❤
My main priorities are it being simple and also very happy. I love a good, cheesy ending!
So, my idea is basically that the egg takes over the SMP. It suddenly starts spreading really vigorously (maybe the egg hatches, I’m not picky over specifics) and infecting most of the server. Once possessed, they all start spreading blood vines everywhere, trying to consume the entire server and everyone in it.
Things look bad but the few survivors band together and start fighting back, in the form of trying to destroy all the red blocks. So you have the eggers spreading bloodvines and the uninfected taking them down in a nice minecraft friendly war.
Of course, the unegged are also trying to save the possessed members. They cut off vines near them and then they have to try and talk to them to break them out of the spell using the power of friendship, getting to remember the things they love and their friends. This works, as love is stronger than the egg’s control. Slowly everyone gets freed (and ideally it is the people they’re closest to who saves them, depending on if they’d plan out specific encounters like that for dramatic effect or leave it more to chance).
All the memorable locations from the SMP are covered in vines so they have to revisit all the old areas in saving the server and you get to see it slowly transform from red back to lovely greens and other colours as the unegged start to win. It’s like a loveletter to the server and how much it means to all the server members.
Dream was also egged but unlike everyone else, they fail to save him. His friends do try to get through to him but unfortunately the egg’s promise of power and control is too much for Dream who abandoned his attachments long ago and this is his demise. It’s emotional.
The rest of the server bands together and it takes all of them to finally destroy the egg once and for all but they do and everyone is saved. During the fight which can potentially last quite a while, you can have various members reconciling with each other and making amends as they all have to work together as friends. That can tie up a lot of the loose plot points and things.
And from there, you can go into your optimistic epilogue where they all enjoy the server that means so much to them, in essence saying goodbye (though the characters would be living happily ever after.) It’d be a fitting conclusion to it all.
We like this idea because it’s pretty straightforward, everyone can join in. If they want to do big emotional scenes some people can, while others might prefer to mostly play the game and they can also choose whether they want to be possessed by the egg or not. There’s some direction but plenty of room for improv, and anyone can stream but others could just make smaller cameos if they preferred. Also it’s really optimistic which I personally believe is just the kind of ending the SMP needs, and it’s thematically satisfying and hopefully a lot of fun.
We came up with a lot of more specific ideas within this scenario but this in any form would be wonderful. You can’t really go wrong with saving the world from a mind-controlling egg through the power of friendship.
#meta#analysis#dream smp#basically with the smp as it is rn its kinda a case of taking all the loose threads and tying them up as best you can#not all of its salvageable and this stage so ranboo will probably be stuck as a ghost etc but most of the outstanding stuff can be addressed#everyone reconciling is also super optimistic but characters are so inconsistent at this point that ill roll with it#itll feel good and look exciting and can involve everyone#and thats all an ending needs
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have one chapter left to post and maybe some epilogue wrap-up stuff for the BNHA fic. It just passed 80k this morning. It'll probably be 82k or so once I get that last chapter done and posted tomorrowish. an 80k fic completed in less than a month. I don't think I've hit burnout yet, but the initial insanity has passed and I feel (nearly) complete. a few loose ends to tie up. I had to reply to like 400 comments. I expect more to trickle in with as many hits as this story has gotten. Maybe I'll post it here, too. It's a fun read :) it was absolutely a fun write.
I suppose this means I can get back to ITD, and maybe with the refresh of my muse, get the rest of it put together and sent out to you guys.
0 notes
Text
//ok on a more serious note, today was the last day we could ask a good chunk of these characters. i feel that big update just now is a good send off to Yun at least. ;-; goodbye yun! I loved writing you.
sadly Mew Mew didn’t get a lot of time in the light compared to the others, but thats okay! she might get another shot tho!
all characters will get a last chance for asks at the end of the epilogue. character arcs that were left unfinished will be finished then.
tomorrow we will be able to ask:
EDIT: actually, we’re going to get an interruption from my plan. Tomorrow we’ll be meeting two different characters.
BUT after we meet those two, we’ll meet the following:
Bucky (sorta), Billy, Joel, Asgore, Frankie, and Ursus.
(and of course Asriel, they’re the perspective character of this story)
We’ll have a few days to ask them (tomorrow i’m going to be busy but i’ll hopefully have enough time to introduce the rest of the cast at least!)
Once we’ve had our fill of those characters, we’ll find Chara and Frisk! And we’ll get a few days with them, then we’ll have our big send off to Chara and tie up all loose ends...
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
[SPOILER WARNING FOR THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE]
I really enjoyed the book and thought it was written very well, and I adored Luc and his dynamic with Addie. But I can’t help but be a little bit confused about why the author decided to end the book like that, especially since it’s supposed to be a stand-alone.
You’d think a satisfying end to Addie’s personal arc would be her at peace at being remembered, then taking Luc’s hand and disappearing with him into the night (or something along those lines). But instead, Addie informs us of her new vendetta against him and how she’s going to spend the rest of eternity trying to make him hate her so her soul goes free and the book ends RIGHT THERE. We’re not getting a sequel so why would you end the book with a curveball like that? That’s an entirely new plot-thread that was literally introduced on the last 2 pages.
She says that she’s going to prove that Luc is “incapable of love”, and then 2 sentences later she says that she’s going to “break his heart.” WHICH ONE IS IT, ADDIE? Those statements are contradictory as hell if she thinks he has no heart to break. I think the author made the ending for them unanswered and up-to-interpretation so that readers could interpret it however they wanted but idk, I was kind of rooting for them to find a sort of peace in each other as a couple which doesn’t seem to happen at the end of the book.
The book beats us over the head with the metaphor that Addie’s freckles are a ‘constellation of stars’ across her face. I’ve seen a lot of people complain that the recurring metaphor was meaningless and superficial, but while reading the book I realised that Luc is literal DARKNESS and the NIGHT. His true form is just a yawning, terrifying empty void of black. And Addie is constantly compared to stars and one artist painted a portrait of stars to represent her. This motif is supposed to mean that Addie is the constellation of stars that both foil and complete Luc’s empty, dark night, that she’s the one who brings light to his existence. How am I not supposed to ship Addie x Luc when the book drills the star motif into our heads like that! I refuse to believe that the man who represents the night sky and tells the woman who represents the stars that he loves her didn’t genuinely mean it.
My personal interpretation is that they’ll play some more cat-and-mouse games through the centuries but ultimately will come together one day. I do believe Luc loves Addie, though she believes he doesn’t love her because you have to be willing to let someone go if you love them. Luc’s love may not be pure and selfless, but I do believe it is love.
He’s a dark entity, a monster of the night that is thousands/millions of years old. His love is different and exists with him on a different scale of feeling than that of a normal human. He’s also likely horrifically starved and greedy for true affection. Addie is probably the only true companion he’s had in forever. Remember how angry and defensive he became when she claimed that they were alike and both lonely? And then decades later he concedes that she may have been right. It’s because he’s been in denial about being lonely for his entire existence, but Addie challenges him on that and has him realise that there may be something more to his existence than taking souls.
He tells her that he saw the elephant in Paris and how it reminded him of one of their earliest conversations. Seeing an elephant in Paris would be nothing to an immortal like him, but it shows that Addie has had an effect on him and his outlook in life, given some meaning to a mundane thing that he otherwise would not have cared about. Addie is living in his mind RENT-FREE at this point. Luc also shows compassion for her in many vital moments, like saving her from the war camp and from the streets during the revolution, later on even helping her with smaller things like escaping the ticket inspector.
These acts of kindness do not erase his bad deeds, but they do show him to be a morally grey character who has grown to care for Addie’s wellbeing and safety. It would have been in his best interests to let her get tortured so she’d give up her immortality earlier, but he still saved her. She’s the only being in the world who has seen his true form, she accepts him for who and what he is. She has seen him when he was cruel and when he was merciful, she gave him a name and a face that he has kept as his chosen form for 300 years (HE EVEN USED THAT FORM FOR HENRY’S DEAL!)
You can’t tell me Luc didn’t have any kind of special attachment or affection for Addie. The fact that he answers to the name she gave him, that he has chosen to wear the face of the imaginary lover that Addie carefully sketched and dreamed of over and over in her youth.
Addie accuses him of wearing the face of her imaginary lover because he is trying to manipulate and taunt her (which may have been true at the start), but that doesn’t explain why he would wear it to see Henry too, and the countless other humans he has probably dealt with in the past 300 years. It’s almost like he and Addie both gave and took from each other, that Addie gave him a name, face and human connection—that she took this old god, a void of darkness that swallows souls, and made it care for her enough to make it try to be a man for her.
I know it’s a stand-alone novel but I would love something along the lines of a short spin-off full of snapshots about Addie and Luc post-ending (like How The King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories). An epilogue of sorts to tie up loose ends and give us some closure, see what Addie and Luc end up as, to let us see Addie find her peace and be truly happy. I feel like the author tried so hard to make a statement that Addie is a strong independent woman who is still fighting that we didn’t actually get to see her be happy.
Her final moments of the book, where she should be feeling content and at peace about everyone knowing her story, and she should be shown getting ready to move on with her life and leave behind her fixation of being remembered. But it gets tainted by this sudden spike of revenge and malice that ends the story on a negative note and ends up feeling kind of sad tbh.....
962 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something Different
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE
Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie)
Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!)
Word Count: 5.9k
NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰
***
Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.
And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.
At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.
So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.
She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.
Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.
"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.
"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."
The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.
And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.
He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.
Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."
Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."
"Wait, before you do..."
She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."
Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."
As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."
With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."
"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.
"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."
He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"
They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."
It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.
***
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.
"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."
"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.
Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."
She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."
"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."
"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"
Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."
Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."
He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.
"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"
Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."
"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"
The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."
Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"
He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."
The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.
They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.
That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.
As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.
"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.
Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."
Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."
"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"
"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.
"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.
"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."
The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.
"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."
"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."
She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.
***
When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.
He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.
"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."
"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."
Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.
"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"
"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.
He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.
Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.
"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.
"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."
She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."
His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.
"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."
"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."
They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.
***
They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.
"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "
He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.
His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."
She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."
The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."
Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.
Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"
That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.
She could have died right there.
But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"
Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."
She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.
The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.
His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch
She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.
He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.
He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."
The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."
For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.
She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.
Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.
He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"
"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.
Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.
The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."
He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.
Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.
As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.
"Wait. Can I?"
She nodded, turning around.
"Stand up for me," he told her.
Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.
He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.
"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.
Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."
At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"
She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"
He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.
Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.
"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.
Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.
Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.
He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.
Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."
As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.
"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."
She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.
When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.
"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."
In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "
Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.
"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.
The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.
"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.
Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."
"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."
"Perfect?" she offered.
He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."
She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.
"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.
When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.
He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."
Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid
922 notes
·
View notes
Text
BAD BUDDY EPISODE 12 – A LIGHT-HEARTED FAREWELL
Dare I say it? At my first viewing of Ep.12, I felt a bit let down at all the feel-good lightness, especially after all the heavy-hitting drama of the episodes before. But now that I know what Director Backaof and team were trying to do, I feel kind of ashamed and ungrateful, and I need to walk back my first impression. Because this episode was just right – just as the others were.
After spending their childhood and adolescence manipulated by their parents into living an artificial feud, Pat and Pran returned from their beach break renewed and with new-found maturity. And just as UncleTong gave Junior a scarf/towel as a souvenir (Ep.11 [4/4] 1.19), his gift to PatPran was advice by way of his own life’s example – that there is virtue in remaining true to yourself even if the world around you disagrees (Ep.11 [4/4] 12.08).
So holding steadfast, taking back control and living life on their own terms for once, the two heretofore puppets turned into puppet-masters with their families. They had grown up being covertly played by their parents, and in Ep.12 Pat and Pran were now covertly playing them BACK. 😊
And except for this denouement of the central storyline, the rest of Ep.12 was not really a final episode in the usual sense – it was more of an epilogue in content and treatment. Here Bad Buddy broke with Thai BL tradition (as it has done, for the better, many other times before), where the penultimate episode is the one where all the conflict and tension reach breaking point – the dreaded Ep.11 syndrome. And then for most 12-episode BLs, the final Ep.12 is where they resolve the main protagonists’ journeys.
I now believe that Director Backaof and his team were one step ahead of us again – in more ways than one. Looking back, we DID have our high-drama penultimate episode – except that it was Ep.10 with their family violence (physical and emotional). And so that made Episode 11 the one with the resolution and completion of their development arc – Pran healing his wounded soul, incomplete since childhood; and Pat maturing into a responsible man who’d learnt to control his childish impulses.
So what of Ep.12 then? Instead of MORE drama as we were made to expect (when we saw Pran and Pat standing in front of their family gates at the end of Ep.11) Ep.12 proceeded to tie up a few remaining loose ends, and then led us straight into epilogue territory, pranking us big-time along the way. We saw self-actualized Pran developing his career in Singapore, and grown-up Pat putting his natural affability to good use in client relationship management for the family business (Ep.12 [4/4] 9:04), while allowing his playful kid-at-heart instincts to run riot only in appropriate situations – like with Pran in the kitchen 🤣 (Ep.12 [4/4] 18:14).
I DID feel there were some bits that were too quickly tied up and put away – like Ming and Dissaya’s relationship, for example. We got to see some thawing (Ep.10 [1I4] 3.05, Ep.10 [1I4] 5.07, Ep.12 [4/4] 4:11, Ep.12 [4/4] 7:07 to 7:33), but so much backstory remains untold. There’s MUCH more to unpack there and elsewhere – the traditional patriarchy of East Asian cultures favoring sons over daughters (still perpetuated by descendants of emigrants, to various degrees, even when largely abandoned in the original mother country?); Ming’s father pressuring HIM possibly far more than he did Pat (Ep.10 [4/4] 11.15); Pa’s suggested competence at the hardware business (Ep.3 [1I4] 16.12); Dissaya’s journey from ace student to wife and mother… Did Ming and Dissaya REALLY have a romance (Ep.10 [3I4] 9.42), or was dotty Kruu Payao just mistaken? Why did bitter enemies choose to live next door to each other anyway? And surely there’s more to Chai than being a mystical exposition fairy, materializing just when we need his knowing service to the plotline (Ep.10 [1I4] 20.04)? So YES there is enough material for a Season 2 (hint, hint, GMMTV! 😂).
In some ways Ep.12 was like the feel-good “so-what-did-X-go-on-to-do” bits they show over the closing credits of so many reality series finales (like they do for The Great British Bake-Off, The Great British Sewing Bee, Project Runway, and so many others). Over the course of a few months you get to know these characters so well and you feel for them – you WANT to know what happens to them after the show has reached its end, to get some closure. And so we got to see what happened to co-participants Ink, Pa, Korn, Wai, and to some extent Ming and Dissaya, after the series champions PatPran finished the course and won the prize.
So that’s Ep.12 for you. The drama and tension were over with (and Director Backaof played a joke on all of us – though some of us guessed it – by taking us on a pretend trip to Break-Up Land) – but the humor is not lost that after having been pawns in their parents’ game for so long, the two boys ganged up and got to play them back instead. What delicious payback it was – yet it was done without malice. Ming and Dissaya ALSO realized they were being played (Ep.12 [4/4] 9:45, Ep.12 [4/4] 11:26) – perhaps they went along with it after realizing that their sons had now grown up, and could no longer be (should never have been?) their stand-ins for their own adolescent rivalries.
But the way Ep.12 makes me FEEL is a lot warmer than I have felt watching the epilogue of a great series. It feels more like we’ve been hosted to an absolutely WONDERFUL party, met some amazing people who made us feel so comfortable and welcome, and we’ve had the time of our lives…
But all great parties must come to an end, even though you want to linger forever in the after-dinner (post-PatPrandial? 🤣) glow. So Director Backaof and his ensemble team – superb hosts the whole way – have bestowed on us this final parting gift: the long dawdling goodbye from the drawing room to the door, before they bid us the final adieu. All we can do now is proffer our utmost gratitude for the top-notch offerings that our hosts presented to us, and hope fervently for an invitation to their next shindig. A Season 2 perhaps? I live in hope. 😊 👍💖
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
champagne problems, epilogue
Epilogue: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby: The beginning of the end. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol consumptions, other than that just a big ball of FLUFF !
series masterlist
A/N: holy shit, this is the end!!! i had so much fun writing this little series, but it wouldn't have been the same without all of you reading, so seriously thank you! now, if anyone on the story taglist would like to be moved to my general spencer reid taglist just let me know, other than that i hope you enjoy this very last chapter!
-
Ever since you were little, you dreamt of your wedding day.
The elegant white dress you would wear, the way you’d style your hair, how your dream venue would look, the perfect guest list, the flowers, the track list, and of course, your husband to be.
You imagined he’d be handsome, a prince to accompany your dream of becoming a princess. You imagined he’d be smart, trustworthy, courageous, and caring. You imagined he’d be funny, make you laugh even when you didn’t want to smile. You imagined he’d be a great listener and have a heart of gold. And you imagined he would always put you first, no matter what.
Dr. Spencer Reid, your husband, was everything you imagined and so much more.
“I believe it was Paulo Coelho who once said, Love is just a word. Until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” All eyes were on Rossi, who with a glass of champagne in the air was delivering a speech he swore he hadn't prepared prior to this moment, “Now, when Y/N and Spencer broke the news and told the team they were finally tying the knot, I personally couldn't have been more thrilled.”
Everyone nodded along to his words as he continued, “And I think I speak for everyone gathered here today when I say these two are made for each other.”
Rossi glanced between the tables until his gaze finally landed on you and the brunette doctor beside you. “To the bride and groom. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” The gathered crowd erupted simultaneously, and what followed was the loud clinking of glasses.
You turned to face Spencer. The hazel-eyed man was already looking at you, a warm smile circling his lips.
“Cheers, my husband.” You lifted your champagne flute a little higher, as he chuckled lightly before following suit, “Cheers, my wife.” Without breaking eye contact, the two of you chinked your glasses together and took a sip of the bubbling liquid.
The evening slowly turned into night. Dozens of tiny fairy lights illuminated the venue, accompanied by the shimmering hue of the disco ball in the middle of the dance floor. Not a single body was sitting down. Everyone swayed to the music, rejoicing in the love which was so clearly floating in the air.
Spencer had his arms wrapped around you, the palms of his hands resting on your lower back. Your arms were around his neck, tips of your fingers tangling in the ends of his soft curls.
The song currently playing was quite fast, but neither of you were particularly keen on the comforting embrace ending - even though you had the rest of your lives to hold each other.
Next to the two of you, on your left, Emily and Tara were jumping around to the beat of the music, while JJ filmed them. Rossi and Will observed the spectacle with drinks in hand and loudly cheered the ladies on. On your right, Penelope was engaged in a dance battle with Derek - one she was undoubtedly winning. Matt, Kristy, and Savannah watched the pair in fits of laughter. And all of the kids ran circles around the gathered group, playing a game of tag with Luke.
“What’s on your mind?” Spencer questioned quietly, after noticing the look of contemplation gracing your features.
“Hmm... I’m just trying to remember the last time we were all together, and this... carefree.” You replied, meeting the ever so welcoming hazel gaze of your husband.
Spencer smiled softly at your response. “Well, we’re here now.” He simply stated, and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.
“You know what doctor, for an extremely outspoken man, and one who seemingly possesses more knowledge than all of us here tonight, you can be very cryptic sometimes.”
“I have to keep a few things to myself, otherwise you'd loose interest in me.” He joked with a chuckle.
The comment earned him another eye roll. You moved one hand from behind his neck and lifted it in between you, curling all fingers inwards apart from the ring finger. His gaze travelled to the notion and the grin on his face widened, because he knew what you were about to say.
“I’m stuck with you now, forever and ever and ever, whether I loose interest or not.” You teased. Spencer’s hand found yours and he brought the finger to his mouth, before pressing a soft kiss to the ring.
“I wouldn't dream of being stuck with anyone else.” Spencer proclaimed, and proceeded to attach his lips to yours in a blissful exchange of breaths. The kiss was short and sweet. Similar to many you’ve shared before, yet different at the same time. Better almost, because he was no longer just Dr. Spencer Reid, he was your Dr. Spencer Reid, and you were now Mrs. Reid.
“I love you, my husband.” You muttered against his lips after pulling away. He smiled, “And I love you, my wife.”
Spencer spun you around once, causing a light giggle to escape you, before he pecked your lips again.
“May I steal her for a moment?” It was Luke who asked, appearing beside the two of you almost out of breath.
“The kids really wore you out, huh?” You teased as Luke smirked, “Oh definitely! Which is why I’d like a dance with the lovely bride so I can compose myself.” He extended his arm and you linked yours with ease.
Shooting Spencer a smile, you disappeared into the crowd with Luke. The doctor watched you for a moment, once again wondering how the hell he got so lucky, when his thoughts were interrupted by a clearing of the throat. He turned his head to find your dad also looking in your direction.
“She’s beautiful, isn't she?” Your dad asked.
“Extremely.” Spencer whispered back, loud enough for Anthony to hear.
The older gentleman shifted in his position, facing Spencer completely. “Thank you.” Anthony stated and extended his arms to wrap them tightly around Spencer. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, son.”
“I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life. Nothing’s gonna hurt her ever again, sir” Spencer replied, before quickly correcting himself, “Anthony.”
The older man chuckled lightly as he pulled away. He straightened his tie and proceeded to place his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “I’ve wanted to say this for quite some time now.” He paused briefly. “Call me dad, son.”
The unexpected request caused the smile on Spencer's face to widen ever so slightly. He didn’t waste time to nod his head in agreement and with one last hand shake, he observed Anthony make his way through the bodies and steal you from Luke for a dance of his own.
Spencer’s heart soared as he watched you sway to the music. In this moment, he was glad he had an eidetic memory that would allow him to remember this sight forever. How filled with joy you seemed, and how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress under thousands of fairy lights.
Your eyes locked with his amid the celebrating crowd. Amid the off-key singing and crazy dancing. Amid the drinking and loud cheering. Amid every single person that was currently partying between you and Spencer. When his hazel gaze found yours, it felt as if there was no-one else present.
And you were suddenly filled with immense gratitude for everything that has happened since you met the handsome doctor. Grateful for every single step which lead to this very this very moment. Grateful for him, for Spencer.
Your husband.
Today was like any other day.
You woke up at your usual time to the sound of your alarm. You had coffee, and a quick bite to eat while aimlessly scrolling through the social media apps on your phone. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, did your makeup. And when it was time to leave, you walked out the front door locking it behind you, hopped in your car, and drove to work.
Today was like any other day. Except that it wasn’t.
Today wasn’t like any other day because while you carried out all of your menial morning tasks, you felt a great deal happier. Because you weren't doing them alone, and with Spencer by your side, you won't ever have to again.
You finally found your happily ever after.
-
A/N: from the bottom of my heart thank you for your continuous support and going on this journey with me. with love, mal. x
masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist
story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol,
tags not working: @radtwinkie
#champagne problems series#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid series#spencer reid story#spencer reid songfic#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid x reader
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Epilogue]
You tie up loose ends.
Ahhhh! This epilogue is, like, twice the size of other chapters. I should’ve broken it into two, but I figured you all wanted to get to the end!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue
Tagged: @lucy-sky, @city-of-weird, @all-the-right-regrets, @alannister-always-pays-her-debts, @fleetwoodsmacabitch
Warnings: violence
Gif Source: captaindelafere
General Howzer looked too thin to be a military man at his age, but what people mistook for smallness was all lean muscle, as tough as a coffin nail. His hair had gone gray despite his age, but it gave him a steeled look that he didn’t mind. It added to the ferocity of his blue eyes.
With Specimen 049 back in the compound, he let himself breathe easy for a moment. Her absence had been a source of great distress for him—a fact his jaw still attested to, aching from all the grinding he had inflicted on it.
But there was still the trouble of how Specimen 049 had escaped.
It kept him up at night. How had she contacted the outside? How had she arranged the help? They had scoured her quarters after the breakout, searching for anything that indicated how she had reached beyond her concrete room. Having found nothing, Howzer had to admit it hadn’t had anything to do with Specimen 049. Someone else had come for her on their own initiative.
Howzer considered shutting down the program. Specimen 049 had been one of a few successful experiments—perhaps the best, because she had never resisted, had never fled.
Until that one day.
She may not have orchestrated the escape, but she had flown the coop all the same when the opportunity arrived. She had obliterated his best team when he sent them after her.
Perhaps the experiments were ultimately a failure. Everything had worked but for the ability to suppress or remove the flight instinct, the need to escape prison. If even Specimen 049, his model subject, had shucked her chains, then there was no hope.
Chaos erupted outside the compound, alarms blaring, but Howzer didn’t question it, too consumed by his problem. Whoever was assaulting the base had no hope of success, besides.
The doorknob of his office turned. He glanced at it in irritation. “Private, I ordered you—”
He froze as you stepped into the room, followed by the man he recognized as your liberator from the week before.
“Specimen oh-four-nine.”
“General Howzer,” you said, your voice crisp, without inflection. “I’m glad you decided to work late tonight.”
You moved forward, crossing the room in three quick strides. Howzer reached for the gun in his desk drawer. Your hand clamped down on his wrist, snapped it. Pain exploded up his arm. The gun clattered to the floor as he hissed, cradling his wrist.
You gestured to the other man. Nodding, he handed you his pistol and circled around the desk, pulling the keyboard of Howzer’s computer toward him.
“What are you doing?” Howzer growled.
He watched in mounting horror as the man located the program files. He went into Specimen 049’s folder, deleted it, and then backed out. He hesitated, then deleted everything related to the program before purging them from the hard drive.
“You can’t just erase everything,” Howzer sneered. “We’ll just recreate it all.”
You shook your head, yanked him to his feet. “We’ll see.” Turning to the other man, you ordered, “Finish here.”
You paused, pulled open another drawer of Howzer’s desk. A bottle of scotch lay at the bottom, a quarter of it gone. Taking it, you pushed Howzer toward the door.
“What happened? You were my best results.”
You remained quiet, shoving him through the door and down the hallway. The chaos of the explosion had drawn everyone to the front of the compound. You led Howzer away to the back, then through a steel door.
The cold night air hit Howzer like knives. He shivered despite himself, the pain in his wrist flaring. Fear pushed at him, but he shoved it down. He was General Benjamin Howzer, and damned would he be if he let some young upstart intimidate him.
“Your car,” you demanded.
He pointed to a brown sedan nestled beside an SUV. Fishing in his pocket for keys, you clicked the button. The car’s lights flashed.
“I expected you to lie.”
“Good. That’s what we trained you to do.”
Howzer was already planning his escape. The car was home turf for him. He knew the way the wheel jerked to the right when he hit pot holes and how quick it would take to slam the seat back against you. He knew the passenger seatbelt was loose and fraying, unreliable.
He would walk away.
You shoved him into the driver’s seat, got into the passenger seat. Howzer settled in behind the wheel, trying to anticipate your moves.
You handed him the liquor bottle. “Drink.”
“No.”
“Don’t make me make you.”
He stared you down. “Make me.”
Starbursts exploded in his vision as you seized his face, jamming the bottle against his lips. He felt a tooth crack, blood mingling with the burning scotch. He choked, unable to swallow so much so fast, but you were forcing the bottle further past his lips, down into the back of his throat.
Then it was gone. He gasped, lungs and throat burning, lips pouring blood. “You fucking bitch!”
“I am what you made me. Now drive.”
Fear tried again, more successful this time in making him afraid. “Where?”
You gestured to the street leading to the highway.
There was still an opportunity to escape. Howzer tried to formulate it in his mind as he started the sedan and worked his way to the freeway. He slowly put on his seatbelt.
You didn’t do the same.
Even better, he thought.
Howzer’s foot pressed down on the gas, pushing the speedometer past eighty, then ninety. You watched dispassionately.
Fear wrapped around his guts.
“When this is over, I’m going to get your boyfriend, too,” he snarled. “You’ve damned him in all of this.”
He eyed the crop of woods looming up ahead alongside the highway.
“You won’t get the chance.”
Howzer’s seatbelt suddenly went slack. He glanced down, saw your hand retreat from the release button.
He had planned to swerve into a tree, but seeing the seatbelt made him hesitate. He shot a glance at you.
“Nice try,” you whispered, and yanked the steering wheel beneath his hands.
~~
Booker drove the car down the long stretch of road, searching for you. He found the wreckage of Howzer’s sedan, the crumpled body of Howzer himself wrapped around the tree.
No sign of you.
Trying not to worry—had someone else grabbed you first?—Booker drove further down, searching the woods.
At last, he glimpsed something gray in the distance. As he drew near, it resolved into you, wandering slowly down the asphalt. He pulled to a stop beside you.
You slipped into the passenger seat. A dark bruise was forming on your arms and forehead. Booker gestured to them. You frowned in confusion. He reached over and gently brushed the back of a finger across your arm. It sent a prickle up his hand.
“Dashboard,” you murmured, watching his finger.
Pulling away slowly, Booker refocused on the road. An SUV was approaching from the opposite direction. The headlights flashed.
“They came to help?”
The surprise in your voice matched Booker’s own. “Yes.”
“See? Family comes through.”
Chest constricting, Booker rolled to a stop beside the SUV. Andy stuck her head out of the driver’s window. “Everything good?”
Booker gave her a thumbs up. He could see the others crowding at the windows, peering at him and at you through the windshield.
“There’s a place not far from here,” Andy continued. “To crash for the night.”
Booker shifted uncomfortably and glanced at you. “Whatever you want,” you told him.
“Okay,” he answered Andy.
He followed the immortals to the safe house. The car ride passed in silence, you staring out the window. He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything. He felt uncomfortable, hyperaware of your presence—the way you were breathing, your reflection in the window.
At last, he asked, “Why did Howzer call you Specimen oh-four-nine?”
“That was my number.”
He recalled you telling him to call you “Spec” if he wanted a name back when he first met. Clearing his throat, he said, “My real name is Sebastien.”
He felt your eyes on him before you quietly gave him yours. He repeated it over and over in his mind, guarding it like some precious piece of you.
Pulling up to the safe house, Booker was surprised to discover it was actually a two-storey house. There were enough rooms for everyone to sleep on their own.
You trudged up the stairs and into the bathroom, the shower turning on moments later. Booker and the others stayed downstairs, infected by your silence.
Andy offered Booker a bottle. He reached for it, hesitated, shook his head. Arching an eyebrow, she pulled from it herself.
Booker kept an ear toward the shower, listening to the shower splash differently as you moved. The others watched him, exchanging glances with each other.
Nile broke the silence. “Will she be okay?”
Booker frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t have a mission. Isn’t that what she was trained to do? Always follow a mission? I mean, she was doing that when she brought you to Quynh, wasn’t she?”
The shower turned off. Booker heard you cross softly across the floor.
“She’s free,” he murmured, “and she’s strong.”
“What about you?”
The question shook him. What about him? He hadn’t thought about it since he returned to the States to break you out.
Overhead, he heard a door shut quietly, a mattress squeak.
“I’m going to help her, if she’ll have me,” he answered.
~~
Despite his exhaustion, Booker didn’t sleep that night. He rose early and made breakfast for everyone, including himself, after venturing into town to buy groceries.
You were the first to descend the stairs. Sunlight had yet to dispel the early morning darkness. Booker snapped to attention as you approached him. You looked rested, perhaps more so than he had ever seen you. Something about the softness of lingering sleep on your face made Booker’s heart trip.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you answered. Sitting at the table, you dug gratefully into the plate of food: eggs, oatmeal, bacon, toast. Booker had given you a triple portion, remembering the last time you had scarfed food down.
“I was thinking,” you began, then hesitated. Jabbing at the bacon with your fork, you asked, “Did you do the other thing I asked you to?”
Booker nodded and fished the flash drive out of his pocket. He had palmed it into a USB port on Howzer’s computer, pretending to delete the files when instead he had transferred them over. You took it from him with a delicate touch, as though afraid to break it.
“Do you think there are any left?”
Booker’s chest ached at the sound of your voice cracking. “I saw a lot of names.”
“But are they alive? No, don’t tell me. I’ll find out.” You pocketed the flash drive and resumed eating. “So, what’s the deal with you and the others?”
“I still have ninety-nine years.”
You frowned. “I’m sorry. What will you do?”
He sat down across from you, not quite meeting your gaze. “I was hoping…you wouldn’t mind having me around.”
The fork paused halfway to your mouth. You gaped at him, jaw slack. He would have laughed if not for his anxiety over your answer.
Lowering the fork, you cleared your throat. “No…”
Booker felt like bricks had hit him over the head. He glanced away, stared down at his hands. What had he expected? That you might think of him as more than anything than the guy who had been part of a mission?
“I wouldn’t mind.”
He jerked his head back up. You met his gaze levelly, a tentative smile on your lips. Relief coursed through him, better than anything he could think of. Raking a hand over the back of his neck, he struggled to fight the grin pulling at his mouth.
“If I catch you drinking, I will shank you with the bottle,” you told him.
“I believe you.”
“Good. Now, where do you think we should start?”
“Here,” he answered, and he leaned forward to kiss you.
#Booker x Reader#Booker#Booker imagine#Sebastien le Livre x Reader#Sebastien le Livre#Sebastien le Livre imagine#Matthias Schoenaerts x Reader#Matthias Schoenaerts#Mathias Schoenaerts imagine#The Old Guard
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
About time I finally finish this; here’s the final part of the Laito and Cordelia analysis saga
Hiya! It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it? Like I said in the previous parts, I’m just going to be answering Cordelia/Laito questions that I’ve received before the saga came out or during the time I was releasing analysis parts. So without further ado, here’s the last part under the cut!
Here’s the rest of the saga, that I recommend reading in order!
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
This was sent to me in an ask before the Laito/Cordelia analyses began. I knew I was going to touch up on some of this before hand, but the reason why Laito doesn’t have a chance of having DID or the like is because I do believe he was groomed as a child! I gave my argument here, in part I section 2. The grooming process is an attempt to make the child trust and rely on the predator so they believe that they cannot be abused or hurt by them. It’s why Laito was later on so confused by his trauma and feelings towards that situation, because he thought it was good to do those actions with Cordelia. Regardless, I do not believe Laito has DID because like you said, there is a chance that this happens, and also the first time when Cordelia did sexually abuse him (to our knowledge) did not start when he was a child since that was the process of him being groomed.
I do believe forming repressed memories over traumatic experiences is more common than forming DID or other disorders like it. I’d say Laito suffers more from repressed memories or at least forgotten ones than DID, considering he didn’t suffer from sexual trauma when he was a kid and also he’s still haunted by memories from his nightmares. Sometimes (as we see in the games) he’s surprised by some of the surfaced memories his nightmares bring him, which gives the inclination that those memories were either repressed or he’s just lived for so long he’s simply forgot about some of those details.
(Also, it’s not good to compare types of trauma and abuse, just another thought! It’s personal for everyone, and saying a type of trauma is worse than another invalidates one’s experience with it, not to mention it’s comparing “apples to oranges” as they say)
I think both of these are the same question? Or similar at least? But please correct me if I’m wrong!
I’m honestly not entirely sure on this one. Cordelia didn’t want to have children in the first place, so I don’t know if she would care. I don’t even know if she really realized that Karlheinz was abusing her in the first place. If she saw it first hand and it kinda struck her to a deep level??? Maybe??? But maybe she would be like “oh that’s normal” considering she justifies her trauma in a way by saying that she loves and hates him (I believe she also said that like Laito??? If I am wrong please call me out for it and I’ll edit this :)). She just has several unhealthy and abusive coping mechanisms. So I don’t know, but I’m leaning towards a “no” since she’s pretty full of herself and doesn’t show to feel empathy for other people aside from Karlheinz in a twisted fashion.
Hope that makes sense!
That’s a very very interesting question! I do believe he would have, eventually?? Considering he did want to be the one to kill her since he “loves her so much that he hates her.” We do know from Dark Fate that Karlheinz wanted the triplets to kill her eventually, which is why that abusive household was strung up in the first place through his puppet strings. So I’d say so. Maybe he would have snapped one day and done it. Nonetheless, that’s a very interesting prompt to think about!! If I think of anything more, I will definitely add to this :)
Karlheinz did know about Laito and Cordelia even before he “found out.” In fact, he wanted something like that to happen in order to create the conditions (somehow) to create a new human race. I think that he might have locked up Laito in order to just make the situation worse and to “show” Cordelia that he still “cares” about her.
Karlheinz is also an abusive prick too, considering he did all of this on purpose. He’s the true villain of the story, pulling the strings. I definitely recommend playing Laito’s Dark Fate route, it’s absolutely amazing. If you can’t play it, I definitely recommend reading it, however Hirarin’s voice acting is definitely half of the emotion :)
But basically, Karlheinz never cared about Cordelia, that’s the sad part. He just used her for his eugenics experiment. In Ayato’s More Blood flashbacks in his Maniac Epilogue, Cordelia gets a blue rose from Karlheinz, which means “impossible” or “unattainable.” Ironic, considering blue roses actually do not exist! Well... kind of. The true “blue rose” looks more like a purple color. Blue pigment in nature is very rare in comparison to other pigments. Natural blue roses to not exist, and it has been quite the feat for biotechnologists to make a blue rose, given the meaning of “impossible.” A true blue rose (that has not been dyed or is fake) still does not exist to my knowledge, but I'm assuming the demon world has blue roses haha. However, Ayato knows that blue roses means “impossible,” so he crushes the rose. Cordelia, however, is blissfully ignorant and gets mad at Ayato for crushing it.
Karlheinz is just a goddamn snake. He just sent a complete double meaning to Cordelia (honestly,,, probably where Laito gets his snakiness) with her unaware of his true meaning. His love is “impossible” and “unattainable” to her.
And there you have it folks! The end to the saga. Feel free to send me any Laito and Cordelia related asks! I just wanted to compile the ones I had in my inbox just to close it all off and to tie any loose strings too. Thanks for being on this journey with me! More to come soon, as always, I’ve just been wicked busy with school. But thanks for all the support you’ve given me as always :)
also, guess I am immortal considering I don't have tendinitis by the time I finished writing this saga laksdjf
#analysis#Laito sakamaki#sakamaki laito#raito sakamaki#sakamaki raito#diabolik lovers#dialover#dialovers#dl#cordelia sakamaki#sakamaki cordelia
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part nine
This felt like it took AGES to get out but college really has had me busier than ever. Anywho, all that’s left after this part is an epilogue :( This is pretty much all fluff! Love you all xx.
After Sam, Steve, and even Bucky sign the Accords -- Colonel Rhodes signed while you were gone -- it is ratified. Which leaves the rest of you to tie up the loose ends.
For starters, where Bucky will be receiving help. For a moment you’re worried he’ll want to return to Romania, but he doesn’t even mention it. Instead, he says he’s up for suggestions.
To your complete surprise, T’Challa steps up and asks if he may offer his services.
“Wakanda is safe, no one will bother you there,” the King explains. “And we may be able to help rid your brain of the programming, not just give you ways to cope. My sister, Shuri, she will be able to help you.”
You look at Bucky, hopeful. It sounds like a good idea, but it’s ultimately up to him. Or so you thought.
Because Bucky turns his head to look at you, eyes soft, but so lost. “What do you think?”
“I think…” You pause. “I think you should do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
“What would make you comfortable?” He asks. “You feel what I feel.”
You nod. “I know. I just don’t want to make any decisions for you that you won’t like.”
“I think I need your help with this one, doll,” Bucky says, gentler this time, pleading.
“Okay, well, I think Wakanda is a good idea. Away from everyone else, you’ll really be able to heal.” You’re careful not to mention yourself, unsure as to whether or not Bucky will even want you to be with him. “And I think T’Challa’s offer is genuine.”
T’Challa nods. “I will go call my sister.” He disappears to do just that.
You stand in awkward silence, wondering what hit will come next. After the past two years, the past two hours seems too good to be true. There has to be a catch -- even if you desperately want it to be real, with no catch.
Without saying a word, Steve ushers Natasha, Sam, and Tony from the room, leaving you completely alone with your soulmate for the first time.
You never thought you’d feel this nervous.
You pull one of the chairs back from the table, sitting down to hopefully come across as relaxed as possible. You hate feeling like you need to tiptoe around Bucky, but right now, you don’t know what else to do.
He follows your movement, taking the seat directly next to you, though he keeps his distance, unsure.
One would think that if you feel what each other feels, then moments like these wouldn’t be so awkward. But they are.
“Thank you,” Bucky finally says. “For today. For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” you murmur, studying your hands to keep from studying him, which you desperately want to do. “How are you doing?”
“I have one hell of a headache.”
You laugh, something about the way he said it, or maybe the fact that despite the insane nature of today’s events, something as mundane as a headache still plagues him enough to mention. A reminder that you’re both only human.
Bucky doesn’t mind the laughter. It’s a sound he remembers only vaguely from his dreams, but his dreams have nothing on this. Nothing on the way your eyes squint, the way you cover your mouth and the way he wants to reach over and grab your hand so he can see your smile, the way his mouth aches to tell you that you should never hide. The real thing is a thousand times better than his dreams. He can’t believe he almost let you get away.
“How are you?” He asks, having realized he has yet to ask you this, even after all he’s put you through.
Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, though you hide it well. “I’m okay.” You pause, not wanting to elaborate, not knowing if he wants to know. Is it too weird?
“Steve told me you thought he was full of it when he would tell you about me,” Bucky tries a different route, a different conversation. “I swear he wasn’t lying. Your eyes are still my favorite color, and yes, I told everyone about you. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t talk about you.”
You’ve started smiling before you can stop it. “Really?”
“You think Steve drew portraits of you because he wanted to? No, I had to talk him into it after the first few. He kept telling me, ‘Buck, what could’ve changed?’ And truth was, nothing changed. I just wanted another picture to hold.”
You cup your cheeks, soreness settling in from how hard you’ve been grinning. Just like that, your Bucky has come back to you.
The one you’ve seen in your dreams is sitting in front of you, smiling sheepishly.
“I have the drawings now,” you confess, watching Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise.
“They survived?”
“Somehow,” you nod. “Steve gave them to me when we met.” You pause. “He also gave me a letter.”
Realization dawns on Bucky’s face as he remembers the letter, the night he wrote it. It was late, he was leaving the next morning, but he had to write this letter to you. He had to write it and get it to Steve if it was the last thing he ever did. He remembers shoving it into Steve’s chest, telling him he had to get it to you somehow, it didn’t matter how, he just had to do it for him. Bucky was a little drunk and a lot heartbroken, because he feared he’d never get to meet you. That he’d die in the war and leave you stranded.
After all those years, it finally ended up in your hands.
“Did you read it?”
You shake your head. “I hold it a lot. Sleep with it under my pillow. I could never bring myself to read it, though. Steve told me you wrote it in case you died before you got to meet me?”
Bucky nods slowly.
“Well,” you smile softly. “You’re right here.”
Bucky does the unthinkable. He reaches over with his flesh hand, fingers outstretched and palm up. It takes you a second before you realize what he’s silently asking. Gently, you place your hand in his, holding back your tears as his fingers wrap around yours.
“I’m right here,” he whispers, tears gathering in his eyes, too. Then, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I finally found you.”
That sentence is the one that breaks you. Your lip quivers and the dam breaks. So many years of not knowing. More years of knowing, of living with the fact of your soulmate being dead. Two years of looking. And finally--
Finally, he’s here.
More of the unthinkable happens when the tears spill over your cheeks. Bucky doesn’t expect himself to do this either, but he can’t stand to see you crying. He rolls his chair closer, hand slipping from yours only so he can gather you in his arms.
Your arms wrap around his neck while his fit around your waist.
“I’m so sorry,” he says into your neck, your skin wet with his tears.
“I’m sorry too,” you cry, fingers threading through his hair.
For a moment, all that exists are your two souls, finally at peace, now that they have found one another.
+++
The plan is to travel to Wakanda by Quinjet. Tony arranged everything with T’Challa, so all that’s left is for you, Bucky, and Steve to board.
Steve opts to fly the jet, which leaves you alone with Bucky. Again.
“Hey Bucky?”
“Yes, doll?”
You’re still not used to him calling you doll. You never thought he’d be comfortable enough for that, let alone the way he hugged you earlier.
But you guess that’s just what happens when you finally find your soulmate.
You try to focus. There’s one question that has been gnawing at your mind -- and everyone else’s, even Steve’s -- since it happened.
“You don’t have to answer if it’s too hard, or complicated, but can I ask why--” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “When you were the Soldier, why were you protecting me?” Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Why did you tell me that your orders were to protect me? You nearly killed anyone else you saw and it just…”
You see it when Bucky remembers that he said those words to you as the Soldier. He takes a few moments, collecting himself, and you expect him to not say anything else. Which you would be fine with. You know it’s hard-- more than hard, to deal with.
But he begins explaining.
“When they first tried to program me,” he sighs, almost shudders, “it didn’t work very well. I fought it harder than they were expecting, I guess.” There is no pride hiding in his tone, only disgust. “They had to somehow convince me I was doing it all for you, to protect you. I don’t think they ever thought I’d meet you, but at one point they had to tell me I was following your orders. All I could think about was you, so they had to...use that to their advantage.”
“I understand,” you say because you can’t think of anything else. What do you say to something like that? Nothing you say will make it better. He’s aching, you can feel it, and it kills you knowing that there are no magical words to make it all go away.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” Bucky’s worried voice brings you back down.
“No,” you shake your head, even though you know no matter how many times you say it, he won’t be convinced. “You didn’t, I swear. You wanted me as close to you as possible and you followed my every word. It was...strange. I could tell it wasn’t you, but…” You stop yourself, not wanting to admit that you had briefly wanted the Soldier to stay. But that was before Bucky would actually look at you and hold a conversation with you, like he’s doing now. Now, you know this is who you want to stay. Your Bucky.
“Could you feel it?” He asks quietly, eyes focusing on his hands instead of your face. “When I would…”
“Yes,” you answer, not needing him to say it. “I didn’t know that’s what I was feeling until I found out that you were the Soldier, but yes.”
“I remember when I started to feel you,” he says softly, a smile almost crossing his face. “It didn’t last long because they would wipe my memory, but it was...probably the best day of my life. Knowing you were somewhere out there.”
“Why’d you say you didn’t know me?” You ask, briefly wondering if you’re treading in dangerous waters.
“I didn’t want to believe it was really you,” Bucky admits, shaking his head. “After all these years-- All the hell I went through, and then there you were, standing in my apartment.” He looks up to meet your eyes and finds tears there. “I knew from the way you were feeling that it wasn’t for a good reason. I had seen the paper, too. I knew I was in trouble.” He pauses, wiping one of your tears away. “I wanted to protect you, doll. That’s all I’ve ever been trying to do.”
His hand lingers, and you lean into his touch, gripping his wrist to keep him there.
“And then you started jumping off buildings after me,” he jokes, earning a small laugh from you.
“You were really pissing me off doing that, you know,” you tease.
“Yeah, well,” his serious tone makes you open your eyes. “If you ever jump out of a building like that again…”
“Don’t make me run after you again, then,” you reply, just as serious.
“That’s a fair deal,” he smiles.
A moment passes, Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek.
“Just for the record,” Steve’s voice comes from the front. “You guys make me sick.”
Laughter fills the cab of the Quinjet, and your tears recede like an ocean’s waves.
Steve talks to fill the silence, sharing more stories as he remembers them. Bucky jokes about how small Steve used to be, how he could pick Steve up with one arm back in the day.
Of course, the “back in the day” comment earned a snort of laughter from you. They are extremely old, despite not looking like it.
+++
Before you know it, you’re landing in Wakanda.
T’Challa and his sister, Shuri, greet the three of you outside the Quinjet.
“You’re the famous Shuri we’ve heard so much about,” you joke. She’s a lot younger than you were expecting, but somehow that makes you love her a little more.
“He talks about me?” Shuri gasps, playfully nudging her brother’s arm. “What a shocker. You must be the one who talked some sense into his thick head.”
There is no muffling your laughter, not when Shuri is grinning, eyeing T’Challa for his reaction, which is a tired stare.
The King moves the conversation forward. “This is Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers,” he gestures to the two men beside you.
“Two broken white boys to fix?” Shuri asks, all in good nature.
“No, no,” Steve shakes his head. “I’m alright.”
You give Shuri a look, earning a laugh. Oh yeah. You’re going to love it here.
That’s if you’re staying-- if Bucky wants you to stay.
“Come, come,” Shuri turns and starts walking, motioning for you all to follow. “We have everything ready for you. And I think we have found a starting point on how to get all of that nasty HYDRA programming out of your brain,” Shuri gestures to her head with a look of disgust.
You can’t help but smile. That’s the best news of the day. If there really is hope for erasing all of HYDRA from Bucky’s brain, then you’re willing to believe in it.
Shuri leads you all to what you learn is Wakanda’s sort of hospital. It’s nothing like the kind in America. The blankness that would send any sane person spiraling if they were there for long enough. Wakanda’s hospital feels more like a home, a safe place where Bucky can get the help he needs.
You only say all this because you feel and see him physically relax when you enter the building. Some panic was still swimming inside of him, but you weren’t sure why, until now. He must’ve thought it was still too good to be true, until he laid his eyes on it.
You turn your head to look at him, offering a smile. He grabs your hand in return, squeezing gently.
“Will you be staying here as well, Captain?” T’Challa asks, seemingly out of nowhere. “We are happy to have you.”
“No, but I will visit,” Steve replies, sending Bucky a smile. “As much as he’ll let me.”
“You can visit whenever you want, punk,” Bucky shoots back easily, surprising himself.
“And what about you, Y/N?” Shuri asks. “I’m sorry I went snooping around on the background checks, but I could use a brain like yours around here.”
Bucky’s chest fills with confusion. Upon feeling this, you shrug and tell him, “My degree is in psychology with an emphasis on cognitive and neuropsychology.” You pause, suddenly sheepish. “You should’ve seen the look on my best friend’s face when I told her I was switching to that from history.”
“Didn’t you still minor in history?” Steve inquires -- basically throwing you under the bus.
“Yes,” you murmur. “With an emphasis on WWII.”
You feel it when some different emotion rises in Bucky’s chest, one you don’t think you’ve felt from him before. You can’t pinpoint it, but maybe that’s for the better.
“But to answer your question,” you chuckle, returning to Shuri. “I wouldn’t mind sticking around. If you’ll have me, of course.” You pause, tugging on Bucky’s hand. “And if you’re okay with that.”
“I don’t want you going anywhere, doll.”
“Good,” you murmur. “Because I’m not.”
Of course, this is when you and Bucky realize (yet again) that you are not the only ones in the room, which has Shuri grinning and T’Challa sharing a look with Steve.
Oh, well. You and Bucky have years of time to make up for. Everyone else will have to deal with it.
#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky barnes soulmate au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#fluff
371 notes
·
View notes
Photo
FIC WRITER QUESTIONS
Thank you to the lovely @allwaswell16 @runaway-train-works @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and @evilovesyou for tagging me to answer some questions about my writing.
1) How many works do you have on AO3?
47
2) What’s your total AO3 word count?
901,445 (Hoping to hit the Magic Million by the end of the year!)
3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
1 (One Direction)
4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
When Tomorrow Comes 1155
The Baby Whisperer 950
Love, Ever After 898
Harry Poppins 856
Play Me A Memory 760
More under the cut…
5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
Oh gosh. Uhm. I don’t really write angsty endings? All my fics have Happy Endings and most have epilogues to round them out and tie them up in a bow. Perhaps I’d say If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow) purely because (spoiler ahead) the epilogue is written 100 years into the future so they’ve both passed.
6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?
Interestingly, I would actually say the answer is the same as above, If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow). The epilogue is so uplifting and I cry happy tears every time I re-read it. It’s written from the POV of their granddaughter and you get to see the world they had a hand in changing for the better through her eyes, so you get a sense of how impactful their lives were on the rest of society. Oof, tearing up right now just thinking about it.
7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?
Yeah, I have actually. I really enjoy doing new takes on an existing universes, although they aren’t always the easiest thing to pull off tbh. I’m not sure which I would say is the craziest, but the hardest to write was definitely The Peter Pan/Hook AU.
Harry Poppins - Loosely based on the book/movie Mary Poppins, but without any magical aspects.
Playing To Win - Set in the Big Brother house.
The Pirate and The Piper - A Peter Pan/Hook AU which I took a lot of liberties with.
In The Still Of The Night - My Dirty Dancing AU.
A Hungry Heart - This is a Great British Bake Off AU that is due out in September for the Cliche Fic Fest!
8) Do you write smut? If so what kind?
Whoa Nelly. Yeah, I do. All the time. Every fic actually. There’s only one, Exposed, the only fic I’ve published that’s not rated Explicit and doesn’t have smut. But, to be fair, the challenge was to write exactly 666 words and I still managed to get the implication in there. Plus, Louis was naked and Harry was applying body paint for the majority of the story, so like, I think I can get a free pass on that one - I tried!
In terms of what type of smut, I guess it varies depending on the story. I tend not to push the boat out too far, but I do dabble in BDSM in quite a few of my fics. A recurring theme in the comments I receive is that my smut scenes are well constructed and detailed, without being too tedious or drawn out, which is lovely feedback to get because they can be challenging to write.
9) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
Absolutely. Every single one.
10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Not often, people are usually so kind, but there have been a couple.
11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I’m aware of!
12) Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yeah, quite a lot, particularly on Wattpad, all with my full consent. That said, I’m thinking of stopping this because it’s getting a bit out of hand and I’ve been feeling uncomfortable about it recently for various reasons that I won’t bore you with here.
13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Nope! I don’t think it’s really my thing tbh. I get very in my head about writing and struggle even to brainstorm or share too much until I’m well into a story.
14) What’s your all time favorite ship?
Of the 47 fics I’ve written, there are 45 Larry, 1 Narry, and 1 Louis/Dermot O’Leary (I think mine is still the only fic with this ship hahahaa), so that’s probably a good indication of my fave writing ship.
15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
I have one lonely WIP sitting on AO3 from 2018. I keep promising myself I’ll finish it and it’s on my schedule every year, then I get distracted by other fics/fests and it gets pushed back. Plus, it needs a complete rewrite because my style has developed so much since I started it, so it’ll be a big job. Based on that, I think that the fic, in its current form, won’t ever be finished as the rewrite will completely wipe out what it was, although the underlying plot will still be there.
16) What are your writing strengths?
World building (or so I’m often told). I write very visually and people often say they can imagine the scene exactly, or that it’s like a movie, or that they think it’s actually a real place I’m describing, when most of the time it absolutely isn’t, it’s just something I’ve created in my weird brain.
17) What are your writing weaknesses?
Dialogue (although my lovely beta disagrees) and telling rather than showing. They’re both things I’m actively working on.
18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
I’ve never really considered it. It’s not something I’d shy away from necessarily, but it’s just never come up.
19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?
One Direction. First and only.
20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
Wow. This is really tough because it changes over time. I find that once I’ve finished a fic I don’t want to revisit it for a few months because I’m kind of over it. But I find comfort in them after a while, like I get to go back to that happy place and immerse myself in that world and the characters again, similar to catching up with an old friend. It’s familiar. I think I also like different stories for different reasons and I’m drawn to various ones depending on my mood. My top 3 (although, ask me next week and the list will probably be completely different!) would probably be:
1. If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow). Written for the hybrid fic fest (a fest I created just for this fic lol). It’s not everyone’s cup of tea due to the hybrid aspect, but it’s one of the stories I feel is the most rounded from a character development perspective and the world building was pretty epic, if I can be so bold as to throw that out there myself!
2. No Going Back. One of my Big Bangs from 2020. I adore the way their relationship develops in this fic and the setting (as remote lighthouse keepers) was such a lot of fun to write. Plus I got to collaborate with an amazing artist who created an entire website as an accompanying travel blog which was truly wonderful.
3. From The Heart. This is a series I wrote for wordplay back in 2019. I had no idea that what I was doing was so unusual and so meta by having Louis essentially write for the equivalent of wordplay in the fic. It was such an fun way to share my writing process and challenges I encounter (exactly how many synonyms tabs do I have open at any one time?!) and I thoroughly enjoyed the outcome (although getting there was definitely a struggle).
~
This was really fun and thanks to anyone who made it this far! Writing brings me so much joy and is a wonderful outlet for all the imaginings in my head, so I appreciate everyone who supports me and joins me on that journey.
~
I’m pretty late with this and I’m not sure who has already done it but I’ll tag @fallinglikethis @homosociallyyours @lululawrence @reminiscingintherain and @beau-soleil-louis if they’d like to do this and haven’t already.
14 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kamapon
Kamapon's little Place
avasillva
paint me with your lies
akatsuki-shin
Adventia | VGen Comms open! ✨
nyul-peter-2-nyulcipo-play
"Nyúl Péter 2. - Nyúlcipő 2021 elozetes
robosexualcavern-blog
Robosexual Cavern