#and yet they are the ones being defensive

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 11 thoughts! (nov 22nd update)

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 11 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 192 to part 211, covering Jack and Ruggie’s dreams.

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Please also note: The part 11 update is split into TWO parts. There will be a separate post made on the 29th when the second part (centering on Leona) is released.

xbsbdkshwkw AZUL FAINTED WITH HIS EYES OPEN FROM THE FALL… This guy keeps taking the Ls early on in this update cuz he also got reminded that Idia recorded him in his own dream shouting “KRACKEN SHOT” which is very embarrassing.

Silver and Azul are able to change into their school uniforms without Idia’s incantation. Apparently Silver mastered the magic of changing clothes because he was so often oversleeping for class and had to prepare quickly for them. This shocks Sebek, who has yet to master this kind of magic. (Maybe it’s also a consequence of him being a first year?? 😂)

They briefly discuss how Silver looks like a prince when he’s riding his horse; Azul saw him in a Magicam cut of the Equestrian Club. Previously, we knew from Riddle’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes that the brown horse he rides is named Vorpal. Here we get confirmation of Silver and Sebek’s horses—Samson (a white horse, sharing the same name as Prince Phillip’s steed) and Tempest, respectively.

They have landed in front of the gates of NRC and run into Jack there. He seems to be rushing to the colosseum…? Let’s follow him!!

OKAY

OKAY

OKAY

JACK HOWL YOu’RE oN MY ShiT LiST OTL YOU KNOW Ehat tHIS GUY DREAmed ABOUT???????!!!?!?!!?! It’s the year after their instaloss to Diasomnia in the interdorm tournament (don’t ask me why Malleus and Leona aren’t off at their internships at this point, dream logic I guess???). Dream!Leona has gathered all odds Savanaclaw in the colosseum to train so this year they can take Malleus and beat Diasomnia head-on, no tricks. HE EVEN GiVES A N OPTIMISTIC SpEECH AbOUT THE POWEr oF TEAMWORK TO RALLY EVERYONE… and declares he’ll be the next “king” 💀 Such overwhelming confidence… JSCK DRWAMED Of a DORM LEADER thAt PLAys BY THE RULES AnD IS 💯 ConFidENT IN THEMEKvES…

Grim is so grossed out seeing this version of Leona that he wants to wake Jack up right the fuck now 😭

AzUL YOU ASSHoLE???? He acts all fake surprised about “the incident” that happened at the intetdorm tournament and like bro had no part in instigating that stampede.

They start to formulate a plan to wake Jack up, but are worried about dream!Leona since Leona irl is a very strong mage, the darkness posing as Leona could be even stronger than usual. But at the same time we can’t risk casting a spell that’s too strong ourselves or it might call Malleus’s attention. They suggest to use Azul as a clincher since he would theoretically have access to all the magic he stole irl in the dream. Surely one of those could help?

Jack scores against the defense, Ruggie. While the Savanaclaw students are going over his play, Yuu and friends stroll up (including Idia vis a full body projection). Grim tells Savanaclaw they’re Team Ramshackle here to play them!

Ruggie says there’s no point; their team is made up of weaklings! But then Azul gives his OWN speech about how Octavinelle and Ignihyde are always dead last in magift tournaments and this time they really trained hard because they wanna be better 🥺 and besides, isn’g magift a game of wits and not brute magic/physical strength??? This catches the attention of dream!Leona who agrees to the play. He considers fellow dorm leaders worthy opponents, and also had a bone yo pick with Sebek and Silver. (Also??? Sounds like Ignihyde got their asses beat by the Pomefiore team in this year’s interdorm tournament.)

HEKP THIS mAn HE’S SuFFERINNNNG 💀 Azul is really out of it so he calls for a time out. Idia takes this opportunity to make fun of him again for being tired now when he was the captain of Golden Trident in his own dream. At least Sebek is nice and offers Azul some water.

Sebek messes up and the frisbee goes out of bounds?? WYat THE FuVk dream!Leona goes over and helps Sebek up after he’s fallen… “Oh, so Jack has made a senpai he can truly respect.” “Oh, the REAL Leona wouldn’t do something so noble like that.” GROSS GROSS GROSS GET IT OUTTA HERE 🤢

Oooh, interesting?? Ortho reasons that when you’re excited, you’re more likely to be influenced by emotions when making decisions; they’ll take advantage of the exercise high everyone on to break through to Jack. He and Jack end up flying out to space as they’re squaring off in magift; when Jack realizes how far he has flown up, he’s shocked. Don’t they need oxygen to breathe here?! It’s here that Ortho reveals this is all a dream to him.

Jack is so shocked by the news that he wakes—and then falls out of the sky?! Silver immediately runs to protect everyone. Idia uses the Dream Form Change to forcibly swap Ortho to his Cerberus Gear and Jack to his Dorm Uniform, which help to cushion the blow of their crash landing. Then dream!Leona comes over to check on Jack and decides to bench him.

The darkness tries to deceive Jack, but he actually punches back and refuses to be tricked. bcdbbsksks He cries a little and goes on about how he was so inspired by watching Leona play on TV he’d watch it over and over… only to be disappointed by reality. Jack goes a little overboard though, he starts attacking US too, thinking we’re fakes as well.

Jack quickly comes to see reason and stops trying to deck us. Sebek still seems salty at Savanaclaw for what they tried to pull in book 2 and again reminds Jack of those injustices, saying he won’t forgive them. To his surprise, Jack admits wrongdoing and says it’s only natural some people would still hold grudges and choose to not forgive them. Sebek is so shocked by the fact that honest people like Jack exist in Savanaclaw. Aw… baby’s having his prejudice challenged…

Mentioning this for the Jack lovers: Jack pets Grim on the head and praises him!

LMAo????? Jack grabs Silver’s arm to travel with them and is shocked by how it looks slender but actually you can tell he has trained a ton by feeling it!

They land in Sunrise City in Sunset Savanna. Everyone tells Jack about Dream Form Change, which he says is a spell that looks like it’s from an anime his kid sister watched before. Jack has a had time saying the spell because he finds it embarrassing, but he’s eventually goaded into it (especially by Sebek, who tells him to chat it with his whole damn chest).

Beastman lore!! Apparently beastmen are considered a genus and all beastmen come from Sunset Savanna; over time, they migrated to other parts of the world, especially to some colder locations northward. Jack’s family is included in this, as well as Sebek’s. His grandfather apparently used to live in the wetlands of Sunset Savanna. I guess it just goes to show that no matter how different their individual practices and beliefs… they have common roots.

While they’re admiring the statue of the lion prince in the center of Sunrise City, they notice no hyenas are among the gathered animals. They suggest that maybe the statue was made before the King of Beasts united all animals; the hyenas used to live in their own place called the Land of Shadows.

They review some Sunset Savanna lore, including how difficult it is to unite beastmen of different kinds and how there's a pushback against development due to many beastmen wanting to respect nature. Sometimes the disputes can become violent, and it's all over the news. SHOCKINGLY, Idia has a moment of clarity and realizes that this must be why Leona chose the internship he did at a mining and energy company 😭

Everyone begins to suspect the dream is Leona’s but right then Ruggie rushes by them, declaring that he’s late for school. Jack is surprised that Ruggie is in glasses because in Savanavlaw he would brag about having good eyes.

Ruggie cuts through the market to get to school on time; he seems friendly with the folks and many of them offer him free food. Jack remarks that Ruggie is seen as a hero in his hometown, so maybe this explains the NPCs’ behavior. Apparently he is also an honors student in this world.

Anyway, Ruggie arrives at Ivory Cliff! It seems this school doesn’t exist irl; it’s only in Ruggie’s dream. Most of it is beastment, and over half are hyenas.

Grim watches Ruggie and mobs A and B eating food and leaps in to get some!! (Azul apologizes and lies that Grim is his familiar, lol) Sebek chides Grim for doing this, but then his own stomach growls, giving his own hunger away. He of course denies his hunger—but Ruggie says it’s okay and invites them all to eat!! The local children come to their campus just to have food too. Ivorycliff Academy was built in honor of the three hyenas who served the King of Beasts. They used to be do starved that they could cry, so the school is dedicated to feeding the hungry in the spirit of solidarity.

BRUH 😭 YOu’RE KIDDING ME… In his dream, Ruggie’s dad never left him… He came back for his son with a fortune he made from working. Ruggie also bought a new car for his granny and never has to be hungry again. Jack wonders if it is really right to take away happiness like that, but ultimately he decides he doesn’t want to see his senpai living a false reality.

Ruggie shows them to a school donut stall with all-you-can-eat toppings. He dumps everything onto a single donut and calls it the "Ruggie Special". The owner drops the lore that in the universe of this dream, apparently LEONA built the school.

According to donut lady, Leona graduated last year and came back after graduating to strengthen his country. He has established several schools and even magift teams. Among young people in the Sunset Savanna, Leona is supposedly also more popular than the crown prince.

Ruggie runs off to class and we stay behind to eat. Donut lady turns to darkness and attacks us, so we beat it back.

Everyone thinks it will be hard to wake Ruggie since he has never met Leona in this reality and doesn’t have any memories of NRC, his club activities, etc. There isn’t much for him to emotionally react to.

WHAT THE HECK is this a Mufasa movie reference in Twst 😭 Ruggie and some mobs talk about a sequel (that’s a live action prequel, I think??) about two characters who are enemies but were actually friends in their youth. Or maybe they’re just talking about some other Lion King prequel I’m not aware of???

J kb bajabakan ahaGayatwHAT

Azul tosses coins of different values which attracts Ruggie’s attention. He has the unique ability to tell the value of a coin just from the sound of it, a skill which Azul learned about from observing Ruggie when he worked part-time at the Mostro Lounge.

Anyway, Ruggie tells mobs A and B to go home without him so he can hunt the coins in peace.

Azul carelessly tosses 500 madol (~5 USD) into the fountain. Ruggie wants it so badly he dives in and starts digging around wildly in the water for the coin. AND AZUL JUST KINDA STANDS THER E TAUNTING HIM LIKE, "OoOOoOoOoh you want that coin so badly, Ruggie, your body moved on instinct BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF, BE GREEDY, GET THAT COIN" (NOT AN ACTUAL TRANSLATION, but in the spirit of what Azul actually says).

I assume this is what the Ivorycliff Uniform Ruggie groovy depicts... Bro's tripping and having a cosmic experience all because he spotted A COUPLE DOLLARS.

Nooot sure how to feel about this as a narrative device. On one hand, it's funny and definitely demonstrates Ruggie's shamelessness. On the other hand, I can see why some may see it as distasteful or humiliating because Ruggie is already so destitute irl and yet here they are using him scrounging around for a few dollars as comedic bit.

Mobs A and B return to check on him. Ruggie starts obsessing to them about how you can buy extra or fancy food like the shrimp gratin set for 500 madol!! Which confuses the mobs because all the food at Ivorycliff is free.

On instinct, Ruggie starts reciting what I assume is true of NRC: basic buffet foods are free, but extra foods are an extra cost… uniforms are free but if you ruin the first set then you need to pay for extra ones… etc. Ruggie points out that Ivorcliff uniforms are sucky anyway, with a light color like this, even a little bit of dirt stands out! Night Raven College uniforms are black, so it’s so convenient! Wooow, what a callback to book 2 💀 Ruggie complained about the RSA uniforms being hard to clean back then too…

We beat the mobs up~

Ruggie falls ot his knees and has a good little cry 😭 but then he recovers and says he’d better be paid a good hourly wage for all this trouble cnbdjssbjsks He agrees to join us because “Well, I wake up Leona-san every day so this is literally no different than my usual routine” though he also admits his success rate is like 60-70%.

dnensjsbahsjajw RUGGUE’S On MY shIT LIST TOO. HOW daRE HE… Bro says he’s going to wake up OUR king now, that he doesn’t want to follow a false king.. ARE YOU FR 💀 JE’S TAlKING AbOUT zbsvsjabskshFd;,,,/;~~\4!’ansnjahVb,dDDGfgGJjkJSDgabakaojrr a kKNBD gbmmkojnkFSAAQWVNmkoggDFFHvjkkp OTL

PAUSE TO STARE AT RUGGIE'S CRYING FACE BECAUSE WHAT THE HELL I FEEL LIKE I'M STARING AT A KICKED PUPPY

And so…! They’re off!!

This update ends up Ruggie’s dream concluding. Next time (on the 29th), it’s time for us to wake up Leona!!

asdbkhlfbyofqeyg80eg8qegppf OKAY. I WAS NOT EXPECT THIS AMOUNT OF LEONA GLAZING IN THIS UPDATE 🤡 Like, GOOD LORD was there a lot of it... I sort of expected it in Jack's dream since he idolizes Leona, but I was not expecting it to come up in Ruggie's dream too. Even though it doesn't seem like Ruggie has met Leona in the universe of his own dream... the dream world still created lore about how Leona successfully graduated and made the decision to come back and better his country, especially for the destitute hyenas like himself 💀💀💀 WHICH JUST GOES TO SHOW THAT EVERYONE IN LEONA'S DORM RESPECTS HIM AND BELIEVES HE CAN LEAD THEM TO A BRIGHTER FUTURE IN THIS ESSAY I WILL--

ASDBKLHABIYOFAYFQEIBAF STFU ME, THIS UPDATE ISN'T ABOUT HIM.. .. . . . ....... . . . ... . .. . . . . . . LET'S TALK ABOUT JACK AND RUGGIE.

I think this update was one of the funnier ones by far. I'm on Grim's side, it was very unnerving to see a helpful, reliable Leona that plays by the rules and is a good sportsman... but at the same time, it's only to be expected of Jack. Since book 2, he's made it clear he looks up to his dorm leader and wants to be able to put his faith in him. It was nice to see everyone acknowledge how a Leona that doesn't hold back is a genuine threat and how this is the version of him that Jack wants to see realized. It's cute how Jack has this pure want to play with Leona and wants to see him as an idealized leader... Definitely puppy-coded behavior.

Something else I really appreciated about Jack's dream is the logic that went into waking him up. It was really a tag-team effort by Azul and Ortho and, unlike previous updates, I felt like the previous OB boy's presence wasn't a Nothing addition to the cast. Azul uses his smooth talking to convince dream!Leona to play against them, and then Ortho isolates Jack to knock some sense into him. I liked that Ortho, the robot, used cold, hard facts to reason his way to a situation where Jack was more likely to react with strong emotionality. Azul becomes useful again in Ruggie's dream, where he single handedly wakes the guy up with some spare change he had on hand www

The exchange between Sebek and Jack was great, but I wish it had been extended... It feels like they added it to help with Sebek's character arc of overcoming prejuidice about non-fae, which is fine! But I think it should have been carried over into Ruggie's dream (in that section where they talk about different beastmen in the savanna). Like... it would tie together so well if Sebek had a moment of just "............." in indicate that he's thinking about what was just said, about how different beastmen, despite their differences, all originated in the same place. It would show us that he's slowly realizing, little by little, to accept non-fae.

I think Jack attacking us was an interesting beat to include, especially with all the theories swirling about how the Savanaclaw update will be the one to shake up the formula. Perhaps this is a preview of what's to come in Leona's section??? It proves Ortho's point that you're more likely to think and act with your emotions leading you rather than logic if you're already hyped about something. (In Jack's case, he was still coming off the caution and the high of beating back dream!Ruggie and Leona.)

I felt very similar to Jack in Ruggie's dream, doubting whether or not it was morally right to rip someone away from their happiness--especially considering all that Ruggie has gone through. Little guy was so devastated to find out the truth too... When I think about it, he's gone through so much tragedy in his life. His mom's dead, his dad left him, he grew up destitute and having to scrape by, he had to get LITERAL GARBAGE (depicted in the manga adaptation) to survive some days. It's no wonder why the people in his hometown call him their hero, it's a miracle that he lived this long and managed to get into a prestigious school. I think Ruggie's dream also highlights that he's not JUST greedy because he's greedy. Ruggie clearly cares about other people living well too (something alluded to early in book 4), because why else would Ivorycliffs casually offer free food to everyone and anyone? Why else would he spend tons of cash to buy his grandma stuff? He's thankful for what he has and wants to give back to the community that supported him. The supportive community is also generally reflected in his dream, specifically the market he passes on his way to school.

Ultimately, I do think it's for the best that Ruggie was roused awake because um... HEY, THE WORLD IS GOING TO END. Coming to that conclusion also speaks a lot about Jack's character: above all, he values honesty, even if the truth hurts. Excellent carry-over from book 2 (where he was the whistleblower), honestly.

One thing I wished they had expanded on was the relation of hyenas to other beastmen. It’s implied they are second class citizens, but it’s never clearly stated why that is other than “oh they live in a place that lions didn’t rule”. I would have liked more historical context for that discrimination; it would have helped to flesh out the world.

Overall, liked this update a lore more than the previous ones. I don’t know if I can still say this after the second part comes out (because I’ve usually had the most criticism for how the OB boys’ dreams ate handled), but so far I’m surprised by Jack and Ruggie (in a good way). Fingers crossed for the 29! 🤞

[revelboo]

There’s still some time on the poll, but you guys pushed me over 1000 last night apparently. Star/Sounders was leading with Metroplex in second, and Megs in third. As promised, I’ll write something more polished as a thank you.

But I’m doing all three. I’m just slower writing like this, so bear with me. 18+ mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 63- extended cut

Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

Frame curled around you, Soundwave presses his cheek against yours. He curls his arm around you, palm splayed on your belly as he braces himself on the other. Just savoring the intimacy of this moment twisting about his spark to softly chain him and knowing he’s completely lost to you, just an impossible, little organic who’s so tangled in his spark there’s no going back. Losing himself in the feel of you, the quicksilver brightness of your emotions and thoughts washing over him, pulling him under. Because like this? Everything’s clearer, less murky and confused as if there were walls up against him before and they’re gone.

And he wants to tangle himself more firmly in you, frame, spark, and processor. Reaching for those memories that he’s been denied and cradling them to himself. Lips brushing your throat and tasting salt, then trailing up to just behind the shell of your ear, he feels when you sense him in your mind. Your trepidation singing through him as you whimper and he gathers you to him, wrapping himself around every part of you. Soothing away the uncertainty and whispering into your mind that you’re safe, he has you. He’ll always have you. “Little one,” he murmurs affectionately, forgetting that you’re not alone. That Starscream is watching, because right now there’s only you. The feel of your body warm and soft against his, his spike pulsing inside you still, the warm brightness of your mind tangling in his, and spilling into his spark. Wanting that final wall torn down. Needing to bind you so tightly to him he won’t know where you begin and he ends.

Head lifting to find the Seeker watching, his frame tense as his wings lift aggressively, he knows that line isn’t one he can cross just yet. Needing to feel the brightness of you touch his spark. To claim all of you as his, but not until you’re more comfortable with him. No, not only him, but Starscream. He’s so overwhelmed with you, he can’t shut out the Seeker’s thoughts. That vulnerability he tries so hard to hide and under it all, a fear so visceral it’s dangerously close to madness. Understanding that it’s you keeping Starscream level now, slowly healing scars Soundwave wasn’t even aware the SIC had. And it’s hard to trespass in the Seeker’s thoughts and still resent him even though he wants to.

Shivering as Soundwave’s servos flex against you where he’s supporting you, there’s a sense of being wrapped up and held that has nothing to do with his warm frame draped against you. He’s heat and warmth in your head, feeling him as his mind brushes yours, pouring through your defenses. Star has never done this to you and it should feel like an invasion as he tugs at you. Seeing everything. Petty little hates, first loves, your best moments and your worst. And not pushing you away, just accepting the good and the bad, cradling you. And when he rocks himself against you, that spike stroking inside you so slowly you feel every ridge, every bump, there’s no hesitation. “Please,” you whisper, eyes down, because you’re so full of Soundwave, he’s so tangled in you, you just can’t meet Starscream’s optics.

His mouth brushes your neck as he thrusts against you. Growling softly in Cybertronian again, but in your head, his voice is a deep growl. He has you. He sees you. You’re his. There’s no guilt about how good he feels inside you, that spike driving deep again and again, his hips pumping against you with wet sounds. There’s only him and you, his venting growls and your soft cries and gasps as he claims you. Your orgasm shredding you apart as you cry out and he keeps thrusting even as you tighten on him. Dragging it out, in almost frantic drives of his hips before he’s shuddering against you, burying himself deep. Hips rocking against you as he fills you and his lips brush the curve of your ear, your jaw, and neck as his mind curls about yours, feeling his pleasure as a warm rush.

Breathing raggedly, you finally lift your head to find Starscream staring at you. There’s that sly smile on his lips you’re so used to, but it’s wrong. Tense and almost manic, his optics lifting to your eyes and trapping you. There’s fear there under that indifference, you know it because you’ve seen him break wide open before. Knows he doesn’t like this, probably hates sharing you. But he’d done it for you, to protect you. Sacrificing his own happiness. Pressing a kiss against your throat as he senses the direction of your thoughts, Soundwave slips out of you and you can feel his excess trailing down your thighs.

Self conscious as you move toward Star, not even bothering to get off your hands and knees, you look up at him. Not sure what to say now, if he’ll even want you still after watching that. While Soundwave’s release is still slicking you. That anxious fear ebbs when he reaches to cup your cheek, his wings lowering slightly as that panic softens from his optics and his servo slides over the curve of your cheek. Accepting this and you. He’s sprawled there, one leg still outstretched and the other up as he tips your head higher and you go up on your knees so his mouth can crash against yours. Shocking you anew with how warm and malleable his lips are, softer than his plating as he kisses you. Growling a soft protest at you when you pull away. Face heating as you reach for his spike and grip him, watching his wings flare slightly. But not protesting as you kneel between his spread thighs to examine him. You’ve not had a chance to actually explore him and the shape is similar to a human’s, the head more tapered as you run your fingers over him, tracing along those ridges and nodes that feel so good inside you.

“Primus,” he growls as you duck your head and slide your tongue against him.

Hoping whatever his precum consists of isn’t toxic to you, but knowing that ship has probably sailed by this point. He shudders as you taste him, sweet with a metallic bite. Glancing up at him, you run your tongue along his length, before taking the tip into your mouth. Hearing him snarl and feeling his servos tangle in your hair so tight it almost stings. “Don’t move,” you murmur lifting your head and his wings shiver. And then you take him as deep as you can, tongue sliding against him, feeling him trembling under you, but not bucking up against you. You’ve heard him growl and snarl before, but the noise he’s making right now as you swallow as much of him as you can? It’s like he’s coming apart at the seams.

Primus, help him as that wet mouth moves on his spike and you glance up at him as if checking to see if he’s enjoying it. Like you don’t know the effect you have on him. Can’t feel him shaking with the need to move, doesn’t want you to stop, but needs to be inside you. Needs to claim you so thoroughly you forget all about Soundwave. To prove who you belong to. You make a noise when he tugs on your hair, until your head lifts, lips parted and wet. And he almost releases right then. Dragging you into his lap, lifting you and feeling you pull yourself up. Servos tightening on your hip as he grips himself with the other hand and finds your slick core.

“I wasn’t done,” you murmur, against the mesh of his neck, breath warm on him.

And he groans as he pulls you down to bury himself deep right where he belongs. Hearing your throaty moan as he scruffs his servos in your hair again and gently tugs until you arch so he can run his mouth against your soft throat to chase your pulse. Just needing to feel you, to hold you. Your lips brush against his helm, little hands clinging to his shoulders as you shift against him and rock yourself. Riding his spike with slow, unhurried movements. Wings flared, he lays back to let you have your way. Watching you move against him, face flushed. Those eyes everything to him as they hold his optics, listening to the sounds you make. Not Cybertronian, but so lovely to him where you’d once been so strange and alien. That need for more lifts through him, twists through his spark. Glossa tucked against the corner of his mouth as he runs his servos over you, entranced with the way you move against him, lifting until his spike nearly slips free and then rocking back down to take all of him.

Servos sliding up to splay over your chest, he can feel the wild beat of your heart there. Where a spark would be if you were Cybertronian. Watching you, that need crawls through him as he stiffens and lifts his hips. Releasing inside you as you smile down at him, hair falling forward and a few strands stuck to your sweaty cheek as you lazily rock yourself against him. He pulls you down against him, needing to feel your heart beating against him.

Knows he shouldn’t, but can’t seem to stop himself from being greedy for more. So easy to open those protective panels, feeling his spike still pulsing inside your wet heat. Seeing your face limned in the glow of his spark, your breath catching as you try to push yourself up and he pins you against him. Distantly aware of how vulnerable he is right now. That Soundwave is right there, but as his spark reaches tendrils of energy and finds you, nothing else matters. Craving those gentle hands to touch him, but venting raggedly when his sparks twines with you. Feeling you tangling with him, aware of you in ways he never has been before. Bonding himself to you as you shudder against him, little hands scrabbling against his plating, before you’re slumping against him, more of you spilling into him. Something he hadn’t meant to take, hadn’t known he could take as he wraps himself around you, sheltering that fragile warmth that’s you in his own spark. “Primus, I see you,” he whispers raggedly, a prayer and a curse both as the bond runs electric through him. Claiming every bit of you as his, losing himself to that warm feeling of belonging as his servos tighten on you, desperate to keep you close against him. To not let go of this moment.

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[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1433

Finale II - part 1/3 (Agatha X Reader X Rio ending):

Everything happened too fast for anyone to realize it, including you.

When you pushed Agatha out of the way, you were prepared to get harmed if it meant saving her but when you felt the blade digging itself into your skin; you could not help but look at Rio with a surprised look.

Your own momentum almost sent you to the ground, but you managed to remain on your weak legs, hands quickly moving to your chest as you felt the familiar handle of Rio's blade.

Thank your lucky stars, it was not deep enough to reach your hand but it was deep enough to draw blood; the dark blade alone working as a barrier and only allowed little bit of blood to escape with each passing second.

Your eyes grew wider, the feeling of your warm blood against your fingers and the fact that you had been stabbed; made your heart beat faster and your legs to give up.

Thankfully, Billy was quick to catch you and help you lean against him; his eyes filled with fear at the sight of the knife lodged into your chest.

"No, no, no..." he repeated in a low whisper, fearing he would lose you right there, and he was not ready for it.

Agatha had just recovered from the forceful push, only to see you almost collapsing; Rio's knife in your chest. She paled at the sight, almost losing the earth beneath her feet, and rushed to your side to check that you were alright.

She did not even care that she turned her back on Rio or that she could be attacked, her primary concern being you.

She didn't get attacked, for Rio also had to step back and process what was going on.

When she attacked Agatha's blind spot with the dagger, she never went with the intention of killing her. Harming her was her original plan, drawing some blood and firing Billy to surrender himself.

Then, she would heal her former lover and continue like normal.

So when you chose to play it as a hero and interfere, she did not expect it. She didn't manage to pull back her attack, and now her blade was stuck in you.

Rio tried to approach, for she was the only one that could heal you, and she was not going to let you die like this.

Her intentions were read wrong as both Billy and Agatha went into the defensive. Purple and blue magic glowed brightly as a warning that they would not hesitate to blast Rio if she dared to come closer.

"Stay away! You did this to her!" Billy shouted, anger rising within as tears threatened to escape.

Rio got annoyed and wounded by his words. She was trying to help to save you, and yet she was treated like the bad guy; again.

"I did nothing." She said, trying to salvage her pride and not show how she felt being treatead like the villain when she was anything but that. "She was never meant to be here,"

Billy looked at Rio, trying to understand her motives and if she was lying. "What are you talking about?" He questioned. "Her name was on the paper Lilia wrote!"

Rio felt amused by the naive nature of the teenager. "Did you see it? Are you so sure about it?" She asked, and Billy looked at Agatha, but she avoided his gaze; something she did when guilty. "She brought her into this, and it looks like what happened now!" Rio pointed a finger at Agatha.

If Agatha had just accepted the rule bending Rio did for her, if she had accepted Nicky's passing... all this wouldn't have happened.

If Agatha had not pulled you into this crazy road for a second time. If she had not stubbornly tried to keep you close when you were not meant to be present... you wouldn't be fighting for your life.

Agatha did not have the courage to look at anyone, especially you. She never told anyone that your name was not on the paper, and she was surprised Lilia didn't either.

But as she saw you on your knees, a knife in your chest... she felt guilty. And as she fought back this foul emotion... her mind brought back a certain memory of her haunted, painful past.

《《《《《《《《《《《《《《 Flashback 》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》

It was a sunny and warm day, early spring, but it did feel as if summer was far closer. Agatha liked this weather, not too cold or hot.

Nicky did, too, for he had the chance to run and roll and play amongst hundreds of flowers. Dandelions, though, were always his favourites.

That particular day, Agatha and Nicky were walking down a familiar path; travelling between towns. Nicky's little goat was tied and following close behind, trying to stop occasionally to eat some of the flowers and grass.

"Mamma," Nicky started and glanced at Agatha, who was once again busy reading. "Why doesn't Aunt Y/N join us on the travels?"

Agatha flipped a page on her little book but did steal a glance at her son. His bright, innocent eyes were so empathic and deep, capable of seeing through anyone's soul.

"Because her path is solitary. This is her choice."

Agatha couldn't really explain to her young son the complex relationships she had with you or what drove your decisions.

She couldn't really explain how you did not wish to kill other witches or just travel the world, faking one lie after the other to get the sympathy of fellow witches just to kill them.

And she sure couldn't explain how often you did this, choosing to stay back and suffice with simple short visits. But that satisfied you, it kept you alive and Agatha always had.someone she could turn to if she needed help.

"But she seemed so sad to let us go," Nicky commented, glancing forward and slightly down as he rememered the sad smile you gave him the day you both had to say goodbye; for now. "I wish she could join us, so we can be all three together."

Agatha did not comment, but her son's words did put her in deep thoughts. Truthfully, she had asked you to join her her a couple of times, even before little Nicky was born, but you bad politely refused.

She thought over the idea you, her, and Nicky could form a trio coven, even though her son had no magic.

《《《《《《《《《《《《《 Present Time 》》》》》》》》》》》》》

In the present, Agatha came to realize something important. Every time you had chosen not to join her, you had remained alive and safe.

Yet this one time you took the risk and joined her, You were so close to dying; and she would never admit it out loud, but she was at fault.

Rio's words, now, hurt more than ever, and she glared at her former lover.

Agatha might had persuaded you to try this plan of the Road but it was Rio's knife that was sticking out of your chest and it was her persistence to not let any of you go; that had led into this battle.

Of course, Rio wasn't faced by it, for this was such an Agatha thing.

Agatha liked to blame others when things didn't go her way, almost never accepting her part in things and never taking the responsibility she had to.

"You can't blame me for this, love. I am not the only one who causes death around her." Rio said, choosing to bring up the same words Agatha had so coldly told her after Lilia's trials.

Agatha, of course, was furious. "Shut up!"

Wasting no more time on talking and throwing the blame around, Agatha just blasted Rio with more force than before.

It did shock and threw Rio back, but the Green Witch was not one to let a single hit take her down. She returned the move, matching up the magic intensity.

Both had open wounds from one another. Both had pain and anger caused by one another.

Agatha wanted to just forget about her haunting past and pain, and Rio wanted to stop being blamed and used as an excuse.

Both wanted to put an end to this, both annoyed by the other that brought you into harms way.

As the battle continued, each sneaky attack became more and more personal.

Their magic caused wind, debri, and dirt to fly all around; easily causing you harm. Or they would have, if it wasn't for Billy using his magic to shield you both as the former lovers continued their fight.

Part 2/3

[silhouetteonpaper]

Benched

Summary: You’re cut from participating in missons for the foreseeable future; the news was delivered by none other than your girlfriend, Natasha. The torturous break from Avenging seems to be unfair... until you hear the other perspective. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 2,393 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, gun use, killing, repressing memories

“I’m sorry?” You weren’t sure if you had heard Natasha’s words correctly; her serious tone didn’t match the saddened look on her face. She was standing across from you as you sat at the empty conference table, summoned only moments ago by the Widow herself.

“We’re benching you from missions until we feel you’re ready.” They didn’t sound any more real this time, either. Natasha, your mentor and girlfriend was telling you to sit the next few missions out. Actually, she was forcing you to sit every mission out for the foreseeable future. You were furious, but tried to keep composed as to not dig a deeper grave.

“Until you feel I’m ready? That’s subjective, how long will it take?” You questioned with crossed arms, your shoulders stuck by your ears out of defense. You’d never been like this around Nat; closed off, defensive, angry. She’d never needed to bar you from missions like this, so it was a first for the both of you.

“We feel your actions on the last mission require some time off.” She explained, noticing the unrelenting confused yet frustrated expression on your face. Natasha felt bad, she was only following the orders of her superiors. They believed that making her relay this information would soften the blow, but as your girlfriend it didn’t make it any easier.  “Look,” She walked around the table, sitting beside you. Her hand found your knee, a soft touch forcing you to unfurl your brows slightly. ��This isn’t a punishment. We just want to make sure you’re okay mentally after what happened.”

She was referring to the events of yesterday's mission, something you had hoped would just get buried under the rug. It was supposed to be a simple interrogation; the team would press the target to find some confidential information. The only issue was that the target had a liking for pushing people’s buttons. His jabs were relentless, spitting insults about the people he’d killed like they were nothing.

You were only supposed to hold the gun to his head in a daunting, coercive way. So you did, for a while anyways—until he stated something you didn’t believe was humanly true.

“I don’t regret killing them.” His words had turned your blood to ice, the pointer finger stationed over the trigger shaking out of anger. He was talking about the people he killed to get close to the Avengers. Some of them being your family, the people you loved most. His greedy play was wiping pawns off the table, when in reality they were more than just objects. Natasha was originally reluctant to include you on this mission, due to your emotional connection. But this man had targeted many of the Avenger’s closest relatives, so if she benched you she’d have to bench everyone else.

It turned out she’d have to bench you anyways, as you broke protocol within seconds of his nasty comment. The gun echoed through the cellar you were all stationed in, the man suddenly going quiet as his head lolled to the side. The main source of intel for one of the biggest missions was dead. Everyone’s heads turned toward the responsible weapon; there you were, eyes wide with a smoking gun still held to his head.

After being escorted back to the compound between silent teammates, you locked yourself in your room for the night. Natasha tried to come in, knocking on your bedroom door every so often with tempting offers of cookies or movie nights, but you wouldn’t budge. The next morning, hushed whispers greeted you the second you entered the kitchen. It was obvious they were talking about you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You knew what you did was wrong, and were ready to move on. So, you acted like it didn’t happen.

Maybe that worried the team even more, especially Natasha. You weren’t one to move on from things so quick, especially considering the grudge you held for the man responsible for all that death. Breaking protocol like that and shooting an important hostage was even more out of character, you knew the importance of his intel. Running on impulse, especially in regard to your emotions was unusual, it would be for any trained agent.

But it all caught up with you, and clearly the team discussed a plan of action behind your back. They believed your slip up was more than just a mistake—that there was something deeper behind it. It was slightly offensive, seeing them assume you were emotionally inept that they didn’t even include you in the conversation. You didn’t even think hard enough on what happened to realize maybe they were right; instead you shoved it deep down inside. Now, the truth was facing you head-on, and there was no escaping it.

This isn’t a punishment? You repeated Natasha’s words in your head. It sure felt like one, your favorite thing in life being withheld like a kid getting their iPad taken away. Everyone knew how much your work meant to you, so why would they take away the one thing you loved doing? Besides, you felt fine mentally. The past was in the past, and you were ready to move forward.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please, Nat—don’t take me out of the running just because I made a mistake.” You pleaded, looking to her with a softened expression. The two of you were close, having been in an official relationship for months now. But this was uncharted territory, and the thread connecting you both was slipping as this new side of you was showing. It was her turn to become defensive as she withdrew her hand.

“A mistake? You killed our most important hostage! If you weren’t one of our top agents, Fury would’ve had you fired!” She was right, but you weren’t going to admit that. Instead you huffed, leaning back in your chair as your gaze found anywhere to look but at Natasha.

“I couldn’t let him get away with what he did.” You muttered, shaking your head. Natasha took a deep breath, concern slowly rising across her face. It was easy to see the hurt on your face, even without directly mentioning your family. They were your everything, and he killed them like they were nothing. But two wrongs don’t make a right, every agent knew that. You should’ve known that. And she didn’t want you to jeopardize your job—your passion, over your stubbornness. She leaned toward you slowly, her eyebrows lowering.

“See, this is what scares me. You knew we’d find justice eventually, but you could’t wait and it blew the entire mission.” Natasha spoke carefully, her words making your stomach churn. Scared?Blew the entire mission? Even for her, these were hasty conclusions to draw.

You crossed your arms again. “What are you insinuating?” To say you blew the entire mission was harsh, even if it was true. An agent would never blame another, not directly like this; especially when that agent was your girlfriend. You knew there was more to it, the ice hidden underneath her tone queued you in.

“That now your family will never get the justice they deserve.” Her words are like knives, stabbing straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if she was trying to break you, or if she truly felt this way. That your mistake cost the entire mission, one that was supposed to avenge your dead relatives. Your eyes went wide with shock, expression frozen as you processed the very words that left her lips. They weren’t coming from your girlfriend; the girl you loved would never say such a thing.

Natasha doesn’t flinch, yet unbeknownst to you she was heartbroken on the inside. You both felt like a stranger was standing opposite, your actions and her words causing a rift between the connection that was strong mere days ago. You were impatient, emotional, and couldn’t follow the stupid protocol, and now it may have cost your job and maybe even your girlfriend.

Your eyes narrowed, oozing with betrayal. “You don’t mean that.” Words softer than the hardened expression painting your face, you were almost speechless. Once again, Natasha left you questioning if what she said was actually true, or just a figment of your imagination.

She nodded once, slowly, like a predator bowing its head to prey. You were officially benched, and there was no arguing your way out of it.

—————-

2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour, and 37 minutes had passed since you were forced to stay within the many walls of the compound. Not like anyone was counting, though. Although spacious and full of various forms of entertainment, the large facility made you feel restless after the first day. You grew bored, itching to get your hands on new cases or even old mission reports.

The quinjet was taunting you. Standing outside the large glass window, calling your name as you sat inside waiting for the go-ahead. But as the hours, days, and weeks passed, it never came. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha since the fight—only exchanging quick glances through narrowed eyes or inconspicuous expressions in passing. Instead, you bothered everyone else about it.

“No, you’re still on temp-leave,” someone would say. “Take some time to relax, focus on yourself.” More voices would eventually join in. It was unrelenting; the only ‘self-care’ you cared about was the one thing that genuinely made you happy: Avenging. But everyone was stuck following orders, keeping you locked inside the compound with your own self to blame.

When everyone left you alone at the compound to go on missions, It gave you time to reflect. You paced the halls replaying the mission over and over, eventually shaking your head as the memory morphed into the shape of your family. You didn’t want to think about them, so you simply filled your time with busywork in order to keep the hurt at bay.

After picking up a few new hobbies, discovering some newfound talents, and recovering old favorite pastimes, you still felt a hole where Avenging used to be. You missed it, and this time off was making you feel worse, if anything. On the 20th day, you built up the courage to talk with Natasha. She was tame the past few days, finally offering you the occasional smile when you made the team dinner, or handing you baked goods when she went on her usual coffee run.

Natasha was sitting in the empty living room, typing on her laptop as she glanced between the screen and some mission reports. “Hey,” you spoke softly, sitting down on the couch opposite of her. Her green eyes popped up, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly. You had her attention. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have belittled my actions that hurt other people, it was truly more than just a mistake and I feel terrible about it.” You were speaking truthfully, and Nat could tell; but she wasn’t satisfied.

Shutting her laptop, she stacked her work off to the side with full intrigue. “Tell me, have you thought about your parents during this time off?” She questioned. You swallowed thickly, immediately regretting your half-assed apology when there was more to it than just feeling bad about your actions. You hadn’t thought about your parents, mostly on purpose; and Natasha was hoping to get after exactly that.

“Look, love,” Her tone softened slightly, and the use of the nickname made you feel even the smallest bit more comfortable. She was still yours, and you were still hers, it was all just on hiatus for the moment—like your job. “This break wasn’t supposed to be time for you to feel bad about what you did. It was time for you to process what happened.” Natasha stood, moving to sit next to you as her words made the air catch in your lungs.

“You can’t change the fact your family has passed, and I need you to have a chance to grieve before we send you back onto the field.” To an average person, everything she was saying made sense. But the issue was, you didn’t want to pause and take the time to process what happened. You wanted to swallow it all and move on to whatever job would come next. But Natasha knew the dangers of that.

You took a deep breath, your gaze finding the floor. “I told you, Nat. I’m fine to go out onto the field. I’ve thought over everything and I feel ready.” You countered, eyes meeting hers as you really tried to convince her. She found your hand, gripping it tightly with both of hers.

“Then tell me exactly what he did to your parents.” Her words hit your chest like a boulder, all of the air you once had no longer existing as your breathing stopped. It was a test, and she knew you wouldn’t be able to answer without breaking down. And fortunately for her, it worked. Tears welled in your eyes, the flood of emotion hitting the wall you built in an attempt to avoid it. But it wasn’t strong enough this time, Natasha knew all the right buttons to push. You gave in, allowing each tear, each sob, to have a chance to see the light as you leaned into Natasha.

“That’s it.” She cooed, pulling you close into her shoulder. Her hands ran through your hair, offering a comforting touch you desperately missed. The person she loved dearly was slowly coming back, the agent who wasn’t just a stone-cold face ready to suppress all emotion in the name of work. Being an Avenger wasn’t just about being brave for others, it was about being your best self so you were capable of offering that support on the field. The entire time, you missed the true meaning of the hiatus.

But now, you were back on track. Natasha was glad to see you finally start the long road to processing your grief, and she’d be there the entire journey. You were grateful to have her, and suddenly even more grateful she gave you the time off in the first place. If you weren’t so naive and stubborn, maybe it would have been easier for you in the long run. But that didn’t matter, because with Natasha, time felt like it didn’t exist.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #299

Shadow spent most of his early life on the receiving end of glares, being seen as suspicious and dangerous from the start, even on the ARK. He was practically numb to disapproval, and he knew what to do with it. Scowl back. Stand his ground. They’d look away eventually, and if they tried to push him about the threat they felt he posed, he was perfectly capable of proving them right.

Glares were predictable. Consistent. Safe.

That’s why he was so thrown off during his first date with Amy. He would’ve been nervous enough just from the event itself, but every time he looked around, he was met with smiles.

Worse yet: laughter.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Every time he spoke to Amy or took her hand, Shadow felt himself wilt more under the confusing, smiling scrutiny from all corners of the restaurant where they sat, as if everyone else in the room were hiding something from him. All he wanted to do was enjoy the meal with Amy, but he found himself keeping an eye on the exit. His heart pounded faster and faster as the date went on, and not just from Amy. Whenever he tried his glare strategy, the stranger would snicker under their breath and look away...but the grin would remain.

Amy returned from a bathroom trip, practically skipping toward Shadow while wearing the only bright smile he trusted. As much as he hated to ruin her fun, he leaned in and muttered to her about his suspicions, how their date must have been compromised in some way, that the other patrons–and even the waitstaff–seemed to be hiding something, and he had an emerald with him if they needed to warp out of there.

Amy responded with none of the seriousness he felt the situation warranted, instead cocking her head with a cute frown. She scanned the restaurant, bravely meeting the eyes Shadow was avoiding. Gradually, her own smile grew...and she failed to hold back the light, joyous laughter he loved.

When Shadow responded with defensiveness, Amy reassured him, letting him know that she’d run into one of the waitresses on the way back from the bathroom and the waitress had gushed about how cute of a couple she and Shadow were. Amy gestured subtly around the room, explaining that this kind of thing happens when you and your partner are cute together. Those smiles had nothing to hide.

Shadow’s eyes bugged out. Him, cute?! Amy was as cute as a person could be, but him?

His eyes flicked around the restaurant, though, and he couldn’t deny it. He told Rouge about the incident later, and she burst out laughing as well, confirming Amy’s theory and telling him he’d just have to get used to it.

It took Shadow a while to grow comfortable under the deluge of smiles they got, but so long as Amy was by his side, he decided it wasn’t so bad.

[ye4gerism]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!- 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 4.8k

content warning a little bit of spiciness, false positive pregnancy mention, black reader friendly

author’s note hi. i suffered through writer’s block these past three months but BOOM mouthwashing and fanart of this fine ass man popped up on my fyp. i’ve watched two playthroughs of this game, so i hope i captured the right image of curly. oh and he’s australian here. and my requests are open!

synopsis on a study abroad trip, you meet another (handsome) study abroad student who talks his way into your heart and ends up being a key part of your life

Winter in London was not up to your standards.

You were here on a study abroad trip for your master's program. You did the whole overseas thing during one quarter during your time as an undergrad - it was a little visit to South Africa which you thoroughly enjoyed. But “travel some more,” everyone said.

After a lot of thinking, you gave in and decided to travel to the U.K. as you wanted something that felt familiar. You were wrong in so many ways - the roads followed unnecessary loops, plugs were shaped unusually, and...oh, every drink there was some sort of 'diet' or 'zero sugar' crap.

But over time, this place began to feel like a routine. It wasn't home but you were okay. You liked the opportunity to grow in your program and you liked your classmates. Everything was balanced - school, eat, chat, sleep.

Except for one particular day after your classes, a few of your classmates insisted you go to a pub with them. Something about 'getting you more exposed to the London culture'. After much pestering, you indulged.

So you found yourself at this pub but not as excited as the people who invited you. Over time, they were engulfed in their own conversations and inside jokes and you were off to the side, whiskey in front of you, own your own. It's weird to drink when the people who are supposed to have your back don't.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Oh boy, were you about to have your first unwanted encounter in London?

You look over your shoulder and see this strikingly tall man, his head full of bright hair. His shy smile

is highlighted by his stubble. Your eyes soften for a moment and the tension in your shoulders fades.

But then it returns. "I'm enjoying myself. Thank you. I'm with my...my classmates." Your tone is sharp. You gesture to your classmates, who are still in their own world.

"You're American? Are you sure these people know you?" He asks. You pause, trying to find a witty answer of your own. Part of you wanted to point out his thick accent as it wasn't as posh as the Londoners. Maybe Australian. You think for a while but you're still stuck.

"Curly." He extends his hand to you. You shake it.

"Your name is Curly?" you ask curtly. "And I'm supposed to feel bad about my situation?"

He chuckles at your response, his face settling into a smirk. "My name is Grant. Everyone just calls me Curly."  He swirls his glass, eyeing the empty barstool next to you. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

You look him over noticing his muscular build once more. "I don't mind." He swings his leg over the seat and rests his forearms on the counter. Curly takes you in for a moment. You take this time to take note of his eyes - a shade of deep blue. He's sort of cute, you think.

"So, why exactly is an American girl like you here in London?" And it all goes away. You find yourself a little annoyed with his question as it's yet another variation of the same question you've heard since you arrived here.

"You ask that like I'm not supposed to be here. It's not like the United Kingdom is some sort of war zone," you respond. He raises his right hand in defense. "I'm studying abroad for a quarter. I'm a grad student," you finally answer. "You don't sound like you're from here either. What's your deal?"

"Well, I'm here for school too." He downs the rest of his drink. "Masters too actually. I'm trying to go to space."

"Still doesn't explain the accent," you cut in.

"Well, my father's Aussie and my mother's from here. They separated years ago and I spent most of my life in Australia with my Pa and spent time with my mother when I wasn't in school. She moved to the States after the divorce. I decided I'd pursue my college education in America and have been there since."

"So you're here studying abroad as well," you state. He nods and then gestures to someone behind him. "That's Jimmy. I like to think we've been attached to the hip for the longest time."

This Jimmy he speaks of is on the opposite side of the bar, socializing. "I'm really happy we got to take this trip together. He made my breaks great. I was really bummed that the person I considered my best friend lived on the other side of the world but the great thing about adulthood is the lack of limitation."

You laugh at his comment and he gives you a confused look. "As an adult, I feel that there are so many limitations. Especially as we get older."

"Well, it's up to you if you let those limitations run your life. You have free will, you know, and...and you typically only live once." He places a hand on your arm and it slowly runs down to your elbow. Your eyes are locked now.

"My name is Y/N."

"I like that."

You like the weight of his hand and you like his eyes and you like his hair. He seems like a cute guy and he has such a cute name - Grant Curly. What a cute face.

"Hey Curly." The moment is broken by an unfamiliar voice but a familiar face. The Jimmy guy. "It's getting late and we have shit to do. You think you can stop flirting and leave now." He pauses and looks at you. "No offense."

You're taken aback and not sure of what to say but you respect him for keeping his friend in check...but maybe not with that tone. You look behind you and see that your classmates have left you. So much for adults.

"You're right. I lost track of time," Curly admits sheepishly. He looks at you first, then at Jimmy. "This is Y/N."

"Great. Nice to meet you, Y/N." You wait for a handshake or something. "Let's go now." Jimmy starts to walk away from where you're both sitting.

"Sorry about him. He's nice! I promise!" Curly rubs his neck nervously. "How are you getting home? Going back with your friends?"

"They left. I'll have to call a cab or something," you say. He looks over at Jimmy, who's exiting the pub, and then back at you. "I'll take you back home. What's your address?"

"It's okay. Your friend...he doesn't seem receptive. And besides, I can take care of myself," You answer. You start to rummage through your purse and pull out your wallet to pay for your drink. Curly gently holds your wrist. Your breath hitches at the electrifying feeling. "Let me pay for your drink and take you home," he starts, "I know you're definitely capable of taking care of yourself but it'd kill me if I left you alone."

You look away from him for a moment and think. This was your opportunity to get his number. "Okay...I'll pay for the drink and you can take me home," you offer. He shakes his head and gestures to the bartender. "Please put this lady's drink on my tab," he says. Curly pulls out his wallet, then his card, and slides it over to the bartender. You lightly slap his arm in protest. "Why would you do that?"

He just smirks at you before taking back his card and receipt. "Let's go." He offers his hand to you to help you off the barstool but you playfully swat it away before plopping off.

Curly leads you outside to the parking lot and clicks the unlock button on his keys. His friend is leaning against the car and you take note of the fact that he was rushing Curly when he didn't even own a car himself.

"What is she doing here?" He asks. "Jimmy, we're dropping her off. You think you could move to the back so the pretty lady can sit up front?" His friend asks.

Jimmy gets off of the car and mumbles something illegible under his breath. You feel bad so you say something, “He can sit-"

Curly cuts you off, "No, no, you sit down." He opens the passenger seat for you and you slide inside.

Something you noticed about the two friends was how opposite they were; Jimmy was clearly someone who didn't like too much change and you assumed that Curly lacked any anxiety. They seem to balance each other out...maybe?

As you conversed with Curly about your respective lives, you couldn't help but notice Jimmy's eyes piercing your image through the rear view mirror.

“Hi love." You feel so much relief when Curly's lips meet yours. You can't help but melt against him. It felt so good to have him in your home.

The two of you had decided to go long-distance months after you met in London. Curly was based in Colorado; his mother lived there, it was where he attended school and he loved it so much because of the snow. It seemed like whenever you called, he was on some sort of mountain or on his way there. While you were living in California, where there wasn't much of that, Curly claimed it reminded him so much of home - so he didn’t mind you living there.

After your first meeting, you regularly hung out and spoke over the phone. Sometimes you both were lucky to be alone; he'd take you out to lunch or take you to tourist sights in London. Sometimes you'd spend time in his flat and Jimmy would be there. The latter wouldn't say much but you always felt like he never really wanted you around. When he did speak to you, your conversations would start somewhat simple and then he'd say something to kill the mood.

One night as your school's study abroad program came to an end, Curly showed up at your flat without any notice. The Curly you saw that night wasn't the one you were getting to know all this time - he was much more bashful than ever. Not the type of bashful when Jimmy tries to embarrass him but bashful in the sense that he was well into his twenties, almost 30, and was struggling to find the words to confess to you. Luckily for him, he didn't need to completely contextualize as you felt the same way.

"How is work, baby?" You ask him. He came to California as it was his turn to take the flight to see you.

"Same old, same old." He started working for some space freighter company months before he met you; you only heard about it once you got back to the States. You weren't too sure about the whole thing but he was making money and getting practice for the career he really wanted.

You pull away from his chest and take his image in. "I missed you so so much." Curly pulls you closer to him so that he can kiss you again. This time it's a bit longer. He pulls away looks behind himself to find your couch and leads you to it without bumping into anything.

He sits first and invites you to crawl onto his lap. Once you're settled, he grabs your thighs and you take hold of his shoulders, kissing him again. His hands roam from your thighs to your back before finding themselves under your shirt. At the feel of your bra, he asks, "Oh, what's this?"

You feel your cheeks heating up at his playfulness. "Why don't you take my shirt off and find out?"

Taking this as permission, Curly unclasps your bra and moves his hands to your shirt; you raise your arm as he pulls the bottom of your shirt off. Once it's been discarded, your bra slightly falls off your chest and Curly does you the honor of taking it off of you.

He lets the back of his hand run lightly against your nipple and you can't help but mewl a bit. "Missed me?" He asks. You nod. "Every single day."

"I think about you a lot. At work, at home, when I'm outside. It's hard knowing that I have such a pretty darling on the other side of the country." He brings one of your breasts to his lips and wraps his lips around your nipple, where his tongue dances around. He pulls his lips away with a 'pop'. "Grant," you let out breathlessly.

"I think about doing you at my desk, on my bed, everywhere." He lowers you down on the couch and adjusts himself so that he's on top of your lower half. "I think I'll take you on this couch and maybe if you're up to it, on your island counter next, and then after-"

He's cut off by a vibration in his pocket. "Just a moment, it's probably work," he says, pulling out his phone. You notice a slight annoyance on his face when he reads the Caller ID.

"Jimmy, hi." Speak of the devil. At the sound of his name, you shuffle to sit up on the couch. Curly puts a hand out to stop you but you swat it away.

"No, Jimmy, I didn't eat your pickles. Have you tried looking around the fridge?"

You reach next to him to pull your shirt and bra out of the crevice of the couch.

"You found them- no, I landed here hours ago."

You clasp your bra and put your shirt back on.

"I'm sorry that - Jimmy!" You jump at the volume of Curly's voice. He sees this, places a hand on your knee and mouths an apology. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I just got here. I'm with my girlfriend- huh? Ok. I'll talk to you later. Bye Jimbo." He then hangs up. Curly sits back on his knees. He brushes his hair back with his hand and releases a sigh before placing both hands on his knees and looking at you. "Sorry. Just Jimmy."

"I don't like him." You give him a pointed look. You cross your arms, obviously disappointed that his idiot friend ruined your time with your man. You're aching for him but at the same time, you don't even want to fuck Curly anymore.

"I think he's a nice bloke," Curly says under his breath. You raise your eyebrows, practically asking him to speak up. "It's like you guys are the brother and sister that hate each other for fun. You'll both come around eventually."

Your face twists in disgust and you fake gag, which makes Curly laugh. "What brother is deeply in love with their sibling, you in this case?" you question, "He clearly wants me out of the way."

"No, he doesn't. He loves you!" You can see Curly's face melt into confusion. "Maybe not love you...but he likes you around?"

You scoff. "See, you don't even know yourself." You wiggle your legs from under Curly and get up off the couch. He reaches for your hand. "You don't know want to...?" He cocks his head toward the couch.

You purse your lips and shake your head no.

"So gorgeous!"

"How many karats?"

"The proposal! What was it like?"

One year and a few months after your meeting, Curly decided to propose. He took you to Australia to meet his paternal side. In truth, you were scared of those big-ass Australian spiders and whatever the hell else happened to live there but your love for Curly was stronger. The night before your flight back home, he planned a candlelight dinner for the both of you in his father's home and proposed to you - your answer obviously being 'yes!'.

Today you were at your wedding shower with all your friends - Jimmy too!

"How do you feel about getting married after just a year of knowing each other? I mean, Grant can't possibly know everything about you in a year!"

Curly's mother was a piece of work. You had met her a handful of times during your trips to Colorado and yet you couldn't seem to just get along. You were polite but she always had something to say. There was some attachment to her son but he was her only one so you let it slide.

"Well...you do know we're getting older. I fell in love with him and have been since I met him. I feel that Curly-"

"Grant. His name is Grant," she interrupts.

You take a deep breath and smile a forced one. "Grant. I feel that he and I can be mature adults and grow and learn about our marriage and what makes it work." Part of you wants to mention why her marriage didn't work out but one of had to be the bigger woman.

Mrs. Former Curly hums trying to find some witty response. "Is the Bride-to-be avoiding me?" You let out a sigh of relief and you never thought you'd do it to this particular voice.

"Jimmy! Nice to see you, hun!" Curly's mom moves past you to hug Jimmy and kiss him on the cheek. For once, Curly's friend looks cleaned up compared to the other times you've seen him.

When Curly's mom pulls away, he looks over at you. "I wanted to pull Y/N aside. Haven't gotten to properly congratulate her on the engagement. I can catch up with you before I head home," Jimmy tells her.

After the engagement, Curly decided to move in with you. It was a decision you were confused by; you were easily willing to pack up your bags and move to Colorado with him. You knew he loved the snow and his mom would probably lose his shit if he was so far but he insisted on moving in with you.

At first, he wouldn't tell you the truth, something about high housing prices and about wanting to explore more. Eventually, he told you he wanted to get away from Jimmy. He opened up to his friend about the idea of getting engaged - showed him the ring and everything. It turned into an argument about you being the right choice and Jimmy low-key insulting you. After he told you the truth, you let Curly move in before the wedding.

Over time, Jimmy apologized to Curly and even extended an apology to you and the two got closer again. Although they weren't best buddies, it didn't sit right with you how quickly Curly took Jimmy back as a friend. Maybe Mrs. Former Curly was on to something.

"How have you been, Jimmy? Has living alone served you well?" You ask. He makes a funny face at you. Were you making a dig at him?

"It's fine. I actually got a new roommate. He's pretty chill. Keeps to himself." Jimmy avoids eye contact for a second. "How's living with Curly? I know he's ecstatic but are you?"

Living with Curly was great, especially when Jimmy was briefly out of your lives; uninterrupted cuddles, uninterrupted dinner, uninterrupted sex. You were living the life!

Instead, you answer, "Living with Curly is great. He's lovely. He's the best roommate and fiancé I could ever ask for."

Jimmy's trying to keep a light demeanor but he truly couldn't. "You know, I hope you're really right about that. Hopefully, he doesn't drop you like a sack of potatoes...although, I hope he does. I really really hope he does. You don't deserve any of this."

Your face drops and for once he's left you silent. Jimmy smirks when he realizes he's really hurt you. "Congratulations again, princess," he says before walking off.

You feel your body buzzing and you just want to cry but everyone - your family, friends, Curly - are all gawking over you and you don't want to set any alarms off. You want to find Curly but you know at the sight of him, you'd burst into tears.

You eventually find the strength to walk out of the party - passing by with polite 'excuse me's and 'just a moment's. You take a moment to feel the breeze. It picks up and your breath struggles but once it slows down, an entire weight is off your shoulders.

You decide to sit in the car. A tired heavy sigh escaped you. You noticed your fiancé left his winter jacket in the car and used it as a blanket.

For a moment, you wanted to cry but you had all this makeup and didn't want others to realize that you were upset. But besides that, you didn’t have the urge. Why couldn’t you cry?

You chalked it up to space. You needed to be away from Curly's petty mom. You needed to be away from Jimmy and his weird attachment to your fiancé. You both needed space for this whole thing to work out.

A shadow hovers over the window and you turn your head to see Curly, who lifts his finger to knock on the window. You open the passenger seat door and before allowing him to speak, you start first.

"Sit."

He doesn't argue and walks around the car to sit in the driver's seat. "Babe, what's going-"

"I can't do this, Grant." You can see his eyes and panicking and his mouth trying to find the right words. He grabs your hands and lets out an incoherent version of "but I love you" and other things you couldn't catch on.

You shush him and it takes him a while to quiet. You place a hand on his cheek. "I don't want to say my vows in front of people who are wishing on our downfall. You know what Jimmy said to me tonight?"

His eyes go from saddened to worry and then a building. "I knew it. I shouldn't have - what did he say to you?!"

You place a finger on his lip, quieting him again. "Grant, baby, please. We'll deal with him later. I want to go to the courthouse and marry you. I want to say the vows I wrote for you there. And then after, I want to eat a burger or something...something greasy and salty as hell, and then after that I..." You move your finger from his lips down to his chest and then even lower.

"You want to...?" He's playing coy.

You move his finger away from his pants and slap his chest, which makes him release an "oof". "I want Jimmy and your mom to suck it and let us have our moment," you say. You watch his face as he starts to think (he has this cute thinking face that you can't help but melt for).

"Ok. Deal." Curly kisses the corner of your lip. "Can you come inside now? Everyone's worried." You kiss his cheek now and chuckle an 'ok'.

Back at the party, everything felt fine. You had your friends and family to cheer you on and your amazing fiancé who loved you more than life. It was toward the end of the night you felt a shift.

You were catching up with another friend when you observed Curly walking Jimmy outside. After a few moments, it was just Curly that returned.

"They want you to do what for how long?"

"It's just a year, baby." He was still with this Pony Express bullshit. "It's nothing we haven't done before. Think of the other times as practice.”

He was doing space deliveries in a span of a few days or even hours to the International Space Station....when he could be working up there.

A part of you felt bad for complaining but the money with good. With your income combined, you were able to buy your first home. You had the most spacious dining room and connected kitchen. It helped with family gatherings, dinners with friends, and hard conversations like these.

"Why can't you get like...I don't know...a real job at like NASA?"

He slams his hand on the table. "It is a real job like NASA!"

You're startled - you can't think of one time he has ever raised his voice at you. Your utensils clutter against the plate and you get up, pushing the chair back with your legs. “Y/N, babe, sorry-” he tries.

You ignore him and leave the dining room, your shared bedroom being your target. Curly’s pleadings and footsteps can be heard behind you.

You reach your bedroom and Curly places a hand on your shoulder. It stops you from walking away from him again. He counters you and now both hands are holding your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know I never yell at you.” His right hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek. “I’m really really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”

You blink and your face scrunches up trying to stop yourself from crying, which you fail. Curly brings you in and holds you.

“Grant, I can’t do it. I can’t do a year,” you sob, “And with all the negative tests…I can’t do it. I need you here with me.”

The both of you were trying for a baby but haven’t been lucky. Just a lot of no’s and one false positive - that was the one that hurt the most. The excitement was immediately gone when your doctor told you there wasn’t anything to begin with.

So it was back to Square one and other options.

But this year's mission had thrown a wrench in your plans.

Curly leads you over to the bed and has you sit down. He kneels in front of you and takes your hand. “Listen, it’s some quick cash. A lot of money. When I get back, I’ll quit. I’ll find something else. And we can focus on ourselves and our family. I’ll make it happen. It’s a promise.”

There’s so much hope in his eyes. He sticks out his pinky finger, indicating that he is serious in his own lighthearted way. You hug him instead.

"So who's the lucky girl?"

Curly looks up and sees Swansea, who's pointing at the gold ring on his left hand.

"Oh!" He turns red at the thought of you. "My wife is back home. I didn't realize how hard it would be - being this far from her. We actually dated long distance for the longest time but yet, I can't shake the unusual feeling in me."

“Your wife…” The older man thinks for a moment. “Oh! The one that pulled you to the side to give you an earful!” He lets out this belly laugh and it goes on for quite a long time. Curly takes a deep sigh, letting his shoulders drop. Swansea slaps his left shoulder, perking him up again. “Yeah, I miss that too.”

Curly was about a month into this delivery trip. He stopped counting the days because it made him miss you more. He just wanted to blink and be home so that he could hold you in his arms and apologize a hundred times over.

You both got into an argument when you found out that Jimmy once again found a way to be in Curly’s space.

One night, Curly got back-to-back calls that he kept ignoring. “Just pick up please so we can sleep,” you tiredly snapped. He chuckled at your annoyance and kissed your forehead before complying.

You didn’t find out until you saw Curly off at work before the start of the mission.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me he was the one calling!” You exclaimed. Curly looks back at his crew who are feet away saying bye to their own families or prepping the ship. “Can you please-”

“No! No, no, no, no,” you hold a finger in front of his face. “Why is he there? I tell you all the time - I don’t like him and I don’t like the influence he had, or I guess has in this case, on you-”

“He needed a job! He needed some help. Things aren’t good on his end. He’s a damn good pilot. He just…he just needs the right push.” His blue eyes hold so much sympathy. You loved your husband’s compassion for others but when it came to Jimmy - after all the times he made it clear you weren’t welcomed - you just wished Curly had a little bit of backbone.

There’s still so much anger and disappointment in you but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

“I hope it all works out and that your boy succeeds. Good luck, Captain.”

You raise both hands in defeat and start to walk away from Curly. This is your last image of him before you fully turn around. He says your name once but doesn’t follow you.

[sparkrls]

High School Sweethearts

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry Styles is the rookie on the football team and he's really lost and Adelaide Heathers is the captain of the volleyball team who's just a little too high-strung

Author's Note: Originally an AU of my Mastermind series, available on Wattpad

Word Count: 13.6k

•••

A FOOTBALL WAS KICKED STRAIGHT INTO ADDIE'S STOMACH, KNOCKING THE WIND OUT OF HER.

Addie wheezed, clutching her gut as she tried to recover air, but her lungs seemed to disagree with her intent. As she struggled to breathe, she reminisced on the peacefulness she'd been experiencing only a few minutes earlier.

It'd been just like every Tuesday afternoon. Finish school, head straight to the changing rooms and then to Addie's one true home: the volleyball court.

And now she felt like her lungs were collapsing.

The one and only thing Addie absolutely despised about training were the boy's football team training right beside them. It wasn't a rare event to have a football kicked into the sand, especially whenever the season was beginning and the rookies had yet to pass that learning curve.

But goddamn it, Addie was going to rip Captain Tomlinson a new one after getting hit straight in the gut. She'd been caught completely off-guard, and as she was busy showing the new girl how to properly spike the ball, Addie didn't have the time to dodge.

When air finally made its way into Addie's lungs, Tomlinson appeared right in time, wincing as he watched the other girls crowd around their Captain. She'd been leaning against her knees for balance, but when she caught sight of the blue-eyed football captain, she pushed herself up to storm over to him.

Louis Tomlinson, the captain of the football team. Fluffy brown hair, electric blue eyes and a bright smile. He was the kind of guy you took home to meet your parents, with a class clown personality, but kind enough.

His fatal flaw, in Addie's opinion, was being absolutely infuriating. With no adults around, his charm slipped into a sarcastic, more snarky personality.

If he didn't accidentally injure several of Addie's team with his stupid footballs, she might actually like him.

However, at the moment, Addie was pissed at him.

Addie raised her finger, pointing it at Tomlinson's face as he backed away hastily, stumbling over his own feet as he raised his hands in defense. She'd shouted at him enough times about balls getting kicked into their court for him to learn his lesson and know she was dangerous when angry.

"You moron, Tomlinson!" Addie seethed, as the back of his knees hit the bench, and he couldn't back away anymore. "How hard is it to kick the ball inside your huge field?"

Louis shook his head in protest, eyes wide with fear. He was a good ten centimeters taller than her, and he was still just as terrified of her as the rest of the school. "'S not my fault! We got a new player, and- he- he struggles a lil bit."

"A little bit?" Addie prompted, raising an indignant eyebrow. She gestured towards the field. "He kicked it forward, how the fuck did the ball go in the complete opposite direction?"

"I don't fucking know!" Tomlinson shrugged, looking just as bewildered as she was. "I told you he struggles."

"Struggles is an understatement."

Addie glanced at Louis, who seemed to be awaiting permission to move. She huffed, taking a few slow steps away from him.

"Fine, you're off the hook this time, Tomlinson."

Louis sighed, clearly relieved.

Addie rolled her eyes. "You're lucky it was me who got hit. Any of my girls go down because of you, and you're dead. Got it?"

Louis nodded eagerly. "A'ight, I'll tell Styles to watch it."

"Maybe kick him off the team if he's that incompetent," Addie muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she watched some other boys on the football team start to approach. "Get your boys away from my court, Tomlinson, before I kick their ass."

"Noted," Louis turned around, clearing his throat before whistling, a sharp and loud sound that rang in the air. "Oi lads, back to the field. Move your arse, Oli." As the jersey-clad boys began heading back, Louis turned around and called, "I won't kick him off, just so you know."

"That's a stupid ass decision, just so you know," Addie shouted back.

Louis shrugged, in a 'what-can-you-do?' manner. "The lad's got potential."

Addie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "He can shove that potential up his ass."

Addie pronounced 'ass' in a strange way, some unique hybrid between an American and a British accent. After a year or so of studying in England, she'd picked up a few odd habits of pronouncing certain words with an accent. She hadn't made a full transition, so of course her friends picked on her for pronouncing things 'too American' and then 'too British'.

Turning back around, Addie clapped her hands together to catch her girls' attention. "Alright, let's get back to work."

An hour later, Addie treaded back to her car, sand sticking to her thighs where she'd sweat and then later fallen down, ponytail a mess and in the spare change of clothes she carried in her gym bag. Taking a swig of water, she dug her keys out of her pocket.

Glancing around at the parking lot, she couldn't find her car.

Crap.

She always forgot where she parked her car, and so every afternoon, it was the same tedious game of clicking the buttons on her keys until she eventually located her car.

But just as she started clicking the keys, the universe decided it hated Adelaide Heathers. A small drop of rain trickled onto Addie's cheek. And then another. And another.

And within a few moments, the clouds were unleashing torment upon Addie, and she resorted to using her gym bag as a cover while she ran at top speed towards the roof of the basketball court.

When she finally made it to refuge, she collapsed on the ground, sitting and heaving as she watched sheets of rain fall down. The sound echoed through the basketball court. It was built in a strange way, with a roof covering the court and the bleachers, but with one open wall so that the court was semi-open.

Nevertheless, it was good for rainy seasons like these, in case it started raining in the middle of training, the football and the volleyball teams would huddle in the bleachers as they waited for the storm to pass.

Addie's ratty Spiderman shirt was sticking to her skin from the rain that had managed to get her wet. Once she'd caught her breath after the sudden run, she stood and squeezed the water from her shirt.

A shriek ripped from her throat when she turned and found someone else in the court. Her hand flew to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Oh my god, you scared me. Jesus, don't be so quiet," Addie groaned, cheeks flushed with embarassment as she spoke, "You're like a ghost."

The boy looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

His hair was a messy array of curls, sticking to his forehead that was dripping with sweat, his nose looked like a bunny's, and his eyes-

Oh god, his eyes.

Addie could've stared at them forever, analyzed every combination needed to unlock that perfect lively green color.

He had the potential to look like a frat boy, but there was something about the nervousness in his smile, and the kindness in his eyes that let you know he wasn't that way. He seemed to be a good person.

And of course he was exactly Addie's type.

"'S alright," Addie waved him off, her mind already racing on all the ways she could get this pretty boy's number, "Who are you?- I mean, I know every single person on the sports team, but I can't recognize you."

He smiled with only one side of his mouth, and the curve of his dimple gleamed like a star. "I'm new. Harry Styles." He offered his hand.

Addie shook it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Adelaide Heathers. Captain of the volleyball team. " Realization then dawned on her. "Shit, you're Styles. You're the guy who hit me in the stomach with that ball!"

The guy with the shittiest kick in the world, Addie thought, but she wasn't nearly rude enough to say it out loud. Or at least to his face.

Harry grimaced. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way."

She liked the slow drawl of his voice. It reeled her in and she couldn't escape even if she wanted to.

And she really didn't want to.

"So you really decided to torment me twice in one day, huh? First a ball in the gut and then scaring the shit out of me," Addie joked, but it seemed Harry took it too seriously.

Harry rushed to say, "I swear I didn't do it on purpose- I mean, you may count the second one on purpose as I didn't announce my presence- but I didn't mean to scare you, I'm really a nice guy- oh shit, I swear I'm not one of those assholes who says they're a nice guy despite obviously not being a nice guy-"

Addie cut him off, "Alright, alright, calm down, Styles." She placed a firm hand on his bicep. "You're alright, I was just kidding around."

Harry sighed in relief. "Okay. That's good."

Addie smiled, endeared by his antics. "So, tell me, Styles-"

"You can call me Harry, by the way," Harry jumped in, cutting her off. She gave him a look. "Just- just so you know."

"Well, Styles, I quite like your last name," Addie smirked, noticing a small smile begin to appear on his lips. She had to admit, it gave her a little power rush to know she flustered him. "Anyways, as I was saying, how come you're here so late?"

Harry said, "Uh, I was waiting for the bus to arrive but it was really late. And then it started to rain. So..."

Addie nodded, humming in approval. She began to take slow, deliberate steps towards the bleachers. She sat down, leaning her elbows against the row behind her and gazing up at the ceiling. Harry followed suit, crossing his arms over his torso.

"What bus do you take?"

"The thirteen."

Addie frowned. "The thirteen made its last stop an hour ago. It passes by at five and that's the last one of the day."

"But-" Harry was aghast. "But training ends at five thirty."

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Feeling sympathy for the poor boy who looked like a kicked puppy with his eyebrows all scrunched up in worry, Addie asked him, "Where do you live? I'm sure there's another bus that passes by there, or maybe the subway."

"You mean the tube?" Harry prompted, the corner of his lips pulled up into a teasing smile.

Addie scoffed, playfully slapping his arm. "Shut up, you're the only country that calls it that."

"Okay," Harry said, unconvincingly. He was clearly teasing her, and it made her uncomfortable. She was supposed to be the one in control.

Addie took the reins of the conversation, "Alright, so where do you live?"

Harry shook his head. "The thirteen is the only bus that passes near my house, and the tube drops me off too far off. My house is too close for the tube but too far to walk."

"The bus is your only shot, damn," Addie cursed, "Well, I've got a car, and I can give you a ride home if you want."

"Wait, really?" Harry sat up. "You sure?"

"Yeah, why not?" Addie shrugged. "Just let the rain ease up and we can go."

"You're an angel, Heathers. A lifesaver."

Addie bit her lip to suppress her grin. "It's no big deal."

The cutest guy ever just called me an angel, Addie thought, and she knew she must be blushing.

When the rain finally died down, they ran to Addie's car, getting a little lost along the way, but managing to make it semi-dry.

Laughing at their idiocies, Addie turned the car on and pulled out of the school parking lot. Harry made small talk, asking her about her American accent.

"I'm actually from Mexico," Addie said with a small chuckle. Harry raised his eyebrows, and she explained, "Since the US is right there beside Mexico, I learned to speak English with an American accent. Then, a year ago, my mom and I moved here to London, and I started at this school."

After her parents' divorce, everything had crumbled. She'd been holding on by a thread, and that thread was this school, this city and these people. A fresh start where no one knew her as the weird kid, or the geek, or that girl in the pictures in seventh grade.

Sure, she was still top of her class, and people were terrified to be around her because of her reputation for a sharp tongue and a cold stare. But she had friends who could see beyond that mask she wore, she had found volleyball, and she found her place in this world.

Thing were okay here.

Maybe not at home, but at her school. At work, and here in the car with this new kid.

"What about you? You new?"

Harry nodded, drumming his fingers against the car handle. "Yeah, transferred this year, and somehow got into the football team?" He turned to look at her. "Quick question, just how low are the standards? I mean, I got in, so I'm guessing it's less a bar and more like a pit in the ground?"

Addie laughed, grinning despite her promise to keep her cool around him. But there was something about his warmth that made her drop her defenses. "Their standards are pretty high. Tomlinson's a ruthless captain, so watch out for him. But he's got trust in you, says you got potential." She stopped at the red light and turned to look him in the eyes. "Tomlinson's a pain in my ass, but he's also got a good eye for players. If he lets you on his team, it's for good reason."

The light turned green, and Addie started driving again.

"Thanks."

"Just stating the facts. Maybe learn to kick the ball the right way, though."

"Aye, aye, cap'n." Harry saluted her, making her crack up.

Addie faked indignation, "Don't distract me, I'm driving!"

Harry gasped, following along with her joke. "I'm sorry. I'll stop being so hilarious. Oh wait, I'm always hilarious."

"You're an idiot, that's what you are."

Harry smiled.

Mark her words, someday, Harry Styles would be Adelaide Heathers' idiot.

---

"Does it really not bother your parents that you drive me home every day?" Harry commented after three weeks straight of Addie giving him a ride. "I mean, you must get home late, right?"

Every day after training, Addie would pick up the things they'd used, get changed, and make her way to the car. She'd find Harry walking on the street, and honked her horn until he finally gave up and let her drive him home.

After a week, he started helping her pick up after volleyball practice, saying it was the least he could do for all the trouble he put her through. She began letting him. It was just picking up a couple of cones and packing up the net.

Now, she'd gotten used to it, to having him help her while he chattered on about his day. If it were anyone else, she would've stayed in comfortable silence, but he always seemed to pull a conversation out of her. And every time he talked about his day, she listened intently, until he asked a question that forced her to open up a bit.

After picking up, they'd get changed in their separate locker rooms. Somehow, he always took half the time she did and would wait outside the door for her. Always had his curls damp because he'd squeeze water into them to make them curl again after messing them up during practice. And with that puppy-like grin on his lips.

Addie shrugged. "Nah, it's just my mom and me. Dad and sister are back in Mexico, and since my mom works most of the time, she doesn't really notice I'm gone." She chuckled to herself. "Guess being a workaholic just runs in the family."

It wasn't uncommon for parents to be absent because of long work hours. It wasn't like Addie's mom couldn't afford to cut back her hours. Even if her mom only worked part-time, with her salary, they could have a great life.

But, like Addie said, being a workaholic was in their genes. Addie supposed that was the reason she was so focused on school and volleyball and work. She was addicted to being busy. To praise for her achievements and her work ethic. That was how her entire family was wired. That was how she'd been raised.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together in that way they did when he was deep in thought. "Well, if your mom won't mind, why don't you stay tonight for dinner?"

Addie's face slackened in shock. She turned her entire head to look at Harry before remembering she was supposed to be driving. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and cleared her throat. "Um... I mean, are you sure? You don't have to.”

Addie didn't want his pity or his fake niceties. She wanted him to truly want her. Maybe want her for more than just a casual dinner with his family. More than just that one friend who drove him home every afternoon.

Harry smiled, placing his hand over Addie's hand. She tightened her clutch on the driving stick as she felt the unfamiliar feeling of someone else's skin on hers. It only took a few moments for her to relax under the comforting warmth of his hand. "I want you there."

Pulling his hand back, Harry sat back, looking straight ahead.

Meanwhile, a million thoughts were whirring through Addie's head as she tried to understand what his hand on hers in this enclosed space meant. What did it mean?

Was Harry feeling the butterflies swarming his stomach the way she was? Or was she alone in her rose-flushed cheeks and thoughts of jumping and falling for someone who might not catch her?

Addie stayed at Harry's for dinner that night. She met his sister, who was studying at a college on the other side of the city, and his parents who were the sweetest people she'd ever met. It was no wonder Harry had turned out so amazing when he'd grown up in this family.

There were no sharp comments, no subtle comments to dig under skin, just teasing banter and sibling loving each other. Harry looked at his sister with such admiration, Addie felt a small pang of jealousy. His parents listened intently as he talked passionately about his day at school.

And when they turned to get to know Addie better, their words were kind and understanding. It started with the simple questions about her parents and their work. And then they asked, "So, why do you like our Harry?"

"Is it a pity thing?" Gemma joked, hiding her smile behind a roll of bread. That was another thing Addie hadn't experienced in years. Carbs at a meal.

When Addie started getting into sports, her mom stopped buying bread, saying "You need to stay in shape. Imagine being captain of the volleyball team and being overweight" (She hadn't even been promoted to captain yet, but her mom assured her that she would get the position one way or another).

Addie was hesitant to grab bread, but it'd been so long and it tasted so good slathered in butter and dipped in the creamy tomato soup.

Snickering, Addie nudged Harry with her shoulder. "I guess he's decent. He did throw a ball at my stomach the first time we met."

Harry's Mom, Anne made a sound of shock. "Harry, you did what!?"

His eyes widened with alarm. "It was an accident! I swear-!"

"Harry, I swear to god, you make such bad first impressions," Anne chided him, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Did you apologize?"

"Yes, Mom."

When dinner was over, they helped clean up and then Harry took her to his room, showing her around his house.

Harry showed her his small collection of CD's, blushing when she teased him for the obscene amount of Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks.

"I have Rumors on vinyl," Addie said as she scanned the CD, noting the small crack at the edge of the plastic case.

Harry's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was a gift from my dad." The last gift he gave her before she left for London. They'd sat down in the living room, next to the dozen of packed boxes, put the vinyl on and skipped to 'The Chain'. He'd held her hand and squeezed it, promising he would visit as soon as he could.

It'd been eighteen months and he hadn't visited even once. Calls were rare and short. Texts were a little more frequent, but still scarce.

Addie looked up, setting the CD down back onto its shelf, and wandering around the rest of the room, hands in her pockets. "You should come over sometime. I'll play it."

Harry's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah!" He exclaimed. And then he seemed to realize how eager he sounded, and cleared his throat, saying in a more laidback tone, "Yeah. I guess that'd be cool."

Pretending to look at the poster above his bed, Addie tried to hide her stupidly huge grin.

Harry had stars, those glow in the dark stars that every kid wanted in their room. The only lighting in the room was his desk light, so she could see a bit of the glow in the stars. They were randomly placed on the ceiling.

Even if they were real stars, she doubted any of them would shine as bright as Harry’s eyes as he met her gaze. His cheeks flushed a light pink, lips curved in a nervous smile.

Addie’s breath caught in her throat. She could reach out and graze the softness of his lips or the curve of his nose. He looked so soft in the absolute best way possible. Soft like the petal of a rose. Soft like the first stream of sunlight through the window.

The spell of the moment was broken by the door being shoved open. It made a loud sound as it hit the wall.

Both Harry and Addie jumped, startled. Standing in the doorway was Harry's dad, Robin. "Keep the door open at all times, Haz." He glanced between the two teenagers, who looked equally embarrassed despite standing quite far apart. And only being friends. "Have fun."

Once Robin was gone, Harry groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "I'm sorry. My parents are embarrassing."

Shaking her head, Addie laughed. "No, I think your parents are really cool." She smiled softly, sitting down on the gray blanket of Harry's bed. He sat down beside her. "They really care about you. You're lucky to have parents like them."

Harry's gaze softened. "They are pretty great."

Addie would kill to have parents like Harry's. Caring and nurturing, who actually gave a shit about their kids.

Clearing her throat, Addie stood up. "This was great, but I should get back soon. School night and everything."

A pang of disappointment shot through her chest as she remembered she had to go. There was a very stupid part of her that really wanted to stay with Harry forever. A very stupid and foolish part of her. The same part that felt butterflies each time her eyes met his and drove him home every afternoon just to get a few minutes with him.

Addie waved goodbye to Harry's parents, thanking them for dinner as she walked past their room. Harry walked her to her car, where he then hugged her and hesitated before placing a swift kiss to her cheek.

They both tried to play it cool, even though the two were flushed tomato red, and Addie stumbled as she got into her car.

The entire drive home, her cheek tingled where she'd been kissed. And if her fingers wandered over the lingering warmth, and her mind ran with thoughts of where this could lead, well... that was just for her to know.

---

Addie lost the match.

The first match of the season, and they'd been beaten by a landslide. It was absolutely pathetic how they'd barely gotten any scores in. The match was so clearly dominated by the opposing team, it was actually sad. But most of all, it made her realize just how shitty of a captain she was.

She wasn't made for leadership. All she had was her own strength, but she didn't have enough to keep everyone else moving.

When they got to their locker rooms, it was dead silent as they took turns in the showers. No one wanted to speak, afraid it would only make the moment real.

But it was when Lexi started sniffling, and Alice turned to hug her that Addie couldn't take the silence anymore.

"It's okay," Alice murmured to Lexi.

Lexi shook her head. "I'm the one who didn't hit that final ball. It's my fault."

"Lexi," Addie spoke. Everyone turned to look at her. All eyes were on her. This could make or break the moment. "We're a team, alright? One of us lose, all of us lose. And it's okay to fail sometimes, that just means we gotta work harder." She got to her feet, sitting beside Lexi and pulling her into her side. The younger girl clung to Addie, searching for some comfort. "We lost a match, but it's the first one of the season, we're still learning how to work together and that's okay. Now we know what we need to work on, and we'll do better next time."

"I'm sorry," Lexi sniffled. "I tried my best, I swear."

Addie's heart ached as she watched the girl cry. "It's okay. I know."

By the time the locker room emptied, Addie was the only one left. She always made sure to be the last one to leave, just to make sure the rest of her team were okay.

She cried in the shower, totally alone in her sorrows as she only had herself to blame. Maybe the whole team had lost, but she was the leader. Addie was the one who was supposed to steer them to victory, not to this.

This had been Addie's shot to prove herself, and she'd thrown it in the trash and set it on fire.

Addie locked up the locker room, and made her way to the parking lot, digging through her bag for the keys.

She found someone leaning on the hood of her car. Curly hair swept back as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes, breathing in the fall air.

Addie clicked the car keys, and the car made a sound, startling Harry. He jumped, stumbling forward and barely catching himself before he fell face-first onto the asphalt.

She snickered at his reaction, pushing past him to place her gym bag in the backseat of her car. "Hey, Styles."

Harry leaned forward, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He'd made it a tradition to always greet her that way. "Hi, Heathers."

Addie tried not to blush and failed spectacularly. "You looking for a ride?"

"You offering one?"

Addie shrugged, gesturing with her head. "Door's open." Harry got into the car eagerly, already buckling his seatbelt by the time she was barely sitting down.

Addie buckled her seatbelt and placed the keys in the engine-

"How'd the match go?"

Something inside of Addie snapped, and for the second time that day, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She sniffled, trying to wipe the tears away before he could notice, but it was too late.

Harry leaned forward, grasping her face with his hand, gently turning her towards him. "Love, are you okay?"

Addie squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she would stop crying. Harry probably thought she was embarrassing. She couldn't keep it together for even a few minutes. That was certainly embarrassing. All he wanted was a ride home, he certainly didn't need to see her tears.

"Ads? You can talk to me," Harry said, his voice ever so gentle, as if she were so fragile he could break her with just a few words. "Love?"

Addie opened her eyes, allowing him to see the tears swimming, the hurt hidden behind her amber eyes. "We lost. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up."

A strangled sob escaped her throat despite her best attempt to choke it back. Harry shushed her, leaning forward, the brake digging into his gut, but he endured the pain just so he could hug her.

And despite everything that had been ingrained in Addie's mind for so long- that crying was showing weakness, and weakness meant shame, and shame was the worst crime of all-

Addie took his comfort. She clung to it like a lifeline, because she was drowning and Harry was her lifejacket.

This was all she had ever needed all along.

Because even now, when she felt so incredibly low and pathetic, she didn't feel alone. Addie didn't feel alone, instead she felt a hope creeping into her life the way a candlelight slowly lights in a dark room.

"You didn't fuck up," Harry murmured into her ear, holding her tighter. Addie closed her eyes, bathing in the warmth of his touch. "You didn't, okay? You're amazing, and smart and so dedicated and maybe you lost this time- but you're goddamn Adelaide Heathers, and when you fall down, you get back up."

Addie weakly asked, "And if I can't get back up?"

"You will." There was no doubt in Harry's voice as he spoke. "Maybe you'll struggle a little, but you'll get back up. You always do. And you know that I'm always there to help you up."

"I don't feel like getting back up anymore," Addie protested, pulling away from Harry's hug with regret. She was bitter as she cried, "I keep getting kicked down and getting back up and I'm so sick and tired of it, and I just-" Her breath was shaky as she inhaled -"I just want to give up already."

Harry placed a gentle hand on her arm, a soft reassurance that he was there. "You can stay down a little while, but you'll get back up again. That's just how you're wired."

"I don't know if that's true anymore."

"Well, I know it's true," Harry defended, not aggressive but more insistent as he said, "Because I know you. And you trust me, right? So you can trust me when I say that you'll get back up. And even if you don't, then I'll be there anyways."

Addie sniffled, quickly wiping her tears away. "You're a really great person, Haz. Have I told you I'm really glad I have you in my life?"

Harry shook his head with a light chuckle. "No, but it's good to know."

"I mean it," Addie insisted, her voice still thick with tears. "I don't know where I'd be without you. Thanks for kicking that ball into my stomach."

Harry threw his head back laughing. The sound rang through the air like the chiming of bells, making Addie feel like she was on a cloud knowing she'd made Harry laugh. She had made him happy, even if only for a few seconds.

Once Harry's laughter had settled down, he turned his head to look at her. Something clouded his eyes, like a lavender haze falling over them.

His voice dropped an octave as he said, "I really like you, Adelaide Heathers."

"You're not half-bad yourself, Harry Styles," she whispered back, eyes flickering down to his lips.

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or if Harry was leaning forward just a few inches, about to meet her halfway. And there was a yearning to crash her lips against his and take what she'd wanted all this time.

And then her phone rang.

Their bubble burst just like that, and Addie could recognize the ringtone. She answered, "Yeah?"

"Adelaide," her mom warned her, "You greet people with 'hello' not 'yeah'."

"Sorry, Mom," Addie said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What's up?"

"Why aren't you home yet?"

"I told you I was having dinner at Harry's tonight," Addie said, frowning in confusion. She looked over at Harry, who was looking at her for an explanation. She simply shrugged, as confused as he was.

Mom scoffed. "I didn't say you could go."

"Yeah, you did, Mom," Addie reminded her, "You told me yesterday morning it was fine. I told you I had my match and then after, I was heading to Harry's for dinner."

"You had a match today?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Don't use that tone with me," Mom snapped at her. Yeah, well, you missed my match, so get off your high horse, bitch, Addie thought bitterly. "Did you win?"

"No, we didn't."

"I'm disappointed in you, Addie. I thought you would do better."

Addie was ready to snap. Not only did her mother miss her match, but she had the audacity to then be disappointed in Addie?

Then again, her mom's words hit her like a punch in the gut. Even her mom thought she'd win. How many people had she let down today?

"Look, I'm headed to Harry's, I'll be back before curfew."

"I want you home at nine."

"Mom, it's seven-"

"Nine."

"Fine."

Addie hung up the phone and turned it on silent, knowing her mom would try and call her back just to tell her off. "Can I stay until midnight tonight?"

"I thought your curfew was eleven," Harry said, trying to piece together Addie's interaction with her mother.

"It is."

Harry waited for an explanation until he realized none was coming and nodded. "Stay however long you want to."

Addie got home at one am, by which time her mom was passed out on the couch, a glass of sugar-free lemonade beside her. She walked past her and headed to her room.

And that night, she dreamt of sitting in a car and no stupid phones interrupting a kiss with Harry. She dreamt of holding his hand and kissing him like he belonged to her.

The next morning, Addie was numb to her mom's yelling and didn't even give a shit when she was grounded. Addie realized she didn't really give much of a shit when it came to her mom. Not anymore.

She was fed up.

---

Addie whistled, "Horan! Come over here, you idiot!"

Niall whipped his head around, blue eyes sparkling with glee as he caught sight of the younger girl. "Heathers!" He ran towards her, hugging her tightly as she returned the embrace with matching eagerness. "How have you been, love?"

"I've been good, babe," Addie answered with ease, used to the friendly flirting with Niall. They pulled back from the hug. "What about you? You're the one who disappeared for two months, you dick." She punched him in the arm.

"Okay, first off, ouch. Second, it was actually really good?" Niall answered, slinging his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the bench on the edge of the field. "I was worried 'cause 's been a while since I've visited my fam, right? But it was nice."

He was wearing his football uniform, and the scratchy fabric of the jersey infuriated Addie, but after last year of near-constant physical contact with Niall, she'd gotten used to it for the most part.

They ended up sitting down on the bench, chatting while Addie slung her legs over Niall's, always maintaining some kind of physical contact. She needed it after he'd gone away for two months to Ireland to be with his family.

Louis arrived fifteen minutes later, looking slightly disgruntled with his hair a mess and the front of his jersey dripping wet and spreading to his shorts. Addie took him in, raising an eyebrow at the water that didn't seem to have spread to the back.

"Niall, aren't you supposed to be warming up?" Louis grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to fix the disheveled mess. "And Heathers, don't you have a training to lead?"

"Don't you know how to drink water?" Addie retorted, looking him up and down.

Louis scoffed. "It was your stupid boyfriend that did this to me. Got distracted looking at this-" He gestured towards their intertwined legs -"And spilled a whole fucking shit bottle of water on me. Grabbed my arm in a fucking vice too. Pretty sure I'mma get bruises from the fucking thing."

Louis' swearing filter was removed whenever he was faced with the smallest of annoyances.

"Boyfriend?" Niall sat up, staring at Addie. "Fifteen minutes talking shit and you didn't mention a boyfriend?" He then turned to look at Louis. "Our little Heather has grown up and gotten a boyfriend at long last?"

Addie flicked Niall in his forehead, where the dark roots were beginning to grow below the bleach blond. "Asshole. Both of you. No, I don't have a boyfriend. Louis' just being a little shit."

Both of the boys looked unconvinced. Louis rolled his eyes. "Sure, he's not your boyfriend. You just look at each other with lovey-dovey eyes, and you drive him home after training every day, and he walks to the other side of the school just to be with you for ten minutes during break. He's not your boyfriend."

Addie groaned. "Goddamn it Tomlinson, he's not my boyfriend and he's not interested in me!" Louis and Addie had had this conversation a million times before. It was infuriating that he kept insisting that Harry was interested in her. This crush was not a mutual thing.

"Have you ever hung out with him outside of school?" Niall asked.

Addie made a sound. "I mean... not really. I just stay for dinner a couple times a week."

"What?" Louis shrieked, this being new information for him. "Why didn't you tell me that part?"

"'S not important."

"You've known each other for two months and you're already having dinner with his family?"

"It's not like that!"

Addie knew it was because Anne knew more about her family situation than Harry. She was always the one who insisted that Addie stay over for dinner and talked to her and cared for her.

In the last five weeks or so, Anne had done more parenting towards Addie than her own mother had done in the last two years.

"You know damn well that boy is head over heels for you," Louis said, making a tsk sound with his tongue. "Mark my words, Adelaide Heathers and Harry Styles are going to date someday."

Driving Harry home that afternoon was a quiet ordeal. They had their routine down to a T, and it seemed neither of them were in a particularly talkative mood.

Addie wasn't sure what was going on with Harry, but she was dealing with the fact that she had a huge crush on him and couldn't get him out of her head despite knowing he wasn't interested either. Plus her grades had been slipping lately and her average had dropped from a perfect 10 to a pretty good 9, but it was sure to result in another fight with her mom. And training had been a disaster, everyone was off their game and tournaments started in two weeks.

Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day. Addie didn't want to take it out on Harry, and she didn't need him to know she was struggling and weak. So she stayed quiet, to avoid questions.

But then five minutes passed and Harry asked, "Who was that guy you were with earlier?"

Addie frowned. "Who? The blond guy?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Something about his demeanor was off. He was too closed off, filled with unnecessary tension. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Addie laughed. "No, he's not my boyfriend. His name is Niall, and he's a really good friend of mine." She snickered to herself. "I spent all of last year battling rumors that he and I were dating, but we're just friends."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Addie cleared her throat. "Niall's amazing. And we've always had this dynamic of flirting with each other, but he's just a friend. He... he was the first person to ever talk to me when I got here. Without him, I probably never would've talked to anyone. Today was the first time I saw him since summer break, so I was happy to see him."

"He's on the football team," Harry prompted. He was almost reluctant as he admitted, "Seems like a nice guy."

"He is. He really is," Addie answered immediately, quick to praise her friend. "Last year, he was basically my best friend, so I ended up hanging out with the football team a lot. Now that he's back, I'm willing to bet he's going to start dragging me along to a lot of things, so get ready for me to annoy you a lot more."

A weak smile began to appear on Harry's lips. "You could never annoy me."

"Yeah well, you'll get sick of me eventually. Tomlinson hated me the first couple of months, but he was outvoted by everyone else who wanted me to stick around. He eventually tolerated me," Addie chuckled. "He's not a close friend, but we're on good terms now. I think he just hated that no one liked his girlfriend Eleanor but everyone liked me."

"I thought you said you weren't Niall's girlfriend," Harry snapped, his voice brisk and cold.

Addie felt a small pang of annoyance. She was hanging on by a thread and her patience was running thin. "Yeah. I'm not."

"So why would you compare yourself to Louis' girlfriend?"

"Because everyone else did. I wasn't Niall's girlfriend, but I was basically his date." Addie clenched the steering wheel, reminding herself Harry wasn't the one annoying her. She couldn't take her anger out on an innocent.

Harry scowled. "Yeah, right."

"The fuck's your problem, man?" Addie snapped at him, finally having enough. "You're pissed I have a best friend? That's pretty fucking jealous of you, don't you think?"

"No, I just think it's ridiculous how you lead me on for two months and then your boyfriend shows up," Harry seethed, crossing his arms and looking out the window. "Real fucking nice that feels."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Addie exclaimed.

She tried to laugh it off, but it had been so annoying to try and date guys only to have them warded off by her best friend. If her boyfriend felt uncomfortable about her closeness with Niall, she'd set boundaries. But no one wanted fucking communication.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Addie growled in frustration, feeling a bubbling rage underneath her skin, and she needed to get it out. So she pulled into Harry's driveway and snapped at him, "Get the fuck out, you jackass!"

"Gladly, you prick," Harry retorted, grabbing his gym bag and slamming the door.

"Don't slam my fucking door!" Addie shouted, rolling the window down. She was glad Harry's parents wouldn't be home to hear this.

Harry whirled around, voice dripping with venom. "You didn't even pay for the fucking car. Your mommy gave it to you to make up for the fact that she doesn't give two shits about you!"

Ouch.

That one dug deep into her heart.

Because it was true.

"It's better than being an insane jealous asshole like you, who's always so obsessed with me!" Addie yelled. "I bet Tomlinson only put you on the team because he felt sorry for how fucking pathetic you are."

Addie knew that would strike a nerve. Deep down, Harry was an insecure person who was always worried about his worth. And there was a part of Harry that truly thought he didn't deserve his place on the team.

"Yeah? Well, everyone thinks you're a cold, narcissistic bitch who doesn't give a shit about her friends and just nitpicks and criticizes everything she can!" Harry yelled, knowing every word would dig deep into her intrinsic insecurities the same way she had.

"Well, this narcissistic bitch is telling you to get a new fucking ride!" Addie shouted, noticing Harry's blue plastic bottle still in the passenger seat and throwing it through the window, hitting him in the arm.

Addie pulled out of the driveway, vision swimming with tears. She managed to stay in one piece until she got home and hid in her bedroom, collapsing into tears.

Addie cried herself to sleep that night.

---

"Hi, Mrs. Horan," Addie smiled as she opened the door. She tugged her sleeves down, fiddling with them in her palms.

Mrs. Horan smiled back at Addie. "Hi, Addie, honey. Niall's down in the basement with the other boys."

"Thank you," Addie made her way through the hallway and down the stairs of the basement. There was one step near the bottom that was creaky and felt like it might break at any moment, so she usually just skipped the last few steps and jumped down onto the floor.

The sound of her landing alarmed the other boys to her presence. Niall leaned over the back of the couch. "Babe, you're here!"

"Honey, I'm home!" Addie said in a sing-song voice as she approached Niall, hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She then threw herself onto the armchair beside him, kicking her legs over the armrest as she watched the other boys playing FIFA. "God, I forgot how much you suck at FIFA, Tomlinson."

"Shut up," Louis muttered under his breath, sitting on the edge of the couch as he lost miserably to Liam.

"Oof, that's gotta be embarassing," Addie winced in mockery as Louis lost. He looked over to her and gave her a dirty look. In turn, she smiled innocently. And then noticed the raven-haired boy beside Louis. "Hey, Zayn."

Zayn smiled. He had this really warm and kind smile that made you feel like you were at home. "Addie."

Zayn played defense on the football team, while Niall was midfielder and Louis was forward. And then there was the final one of the bunch, Liam, who was the goalkeeper.

Against her will, Addie had learned most of football terminology last year because she'd hung out with these four boys a lot. She'd gone to every match she could, and would never admit it, but actually got invested in the game.

"Hi, Payne," Addie smiled at him. He waved back as he passed the control to Zayn.

Niall caught Addie's attention with the wave of the control. "You want in?"

"Nah, I'm shit at FIFA, you know that," Addie shook her head. "I'll watch." She'd always sucked at video games for the most part, but whenever they played Street Fighter or Mario Kart, she kicked everyone's ass. So, she usually stuck to just watching them play and insulting them as if she wasn't ten times worse than them.

Then, when Louis and Zayn took a smoke break, going upstairs to Niall's room to stick their heads out the windows like dogs so Niall's parents didn't catch them, Addie transferred to the couch, sitting down next to Liam for a change.

Once Liam won his round, he passed the control to Addie, giving her advice and tips on how to be better. She didn't win the round, but it was the closest she'd gotten to being half-decent.

"Not half-bad," Liam mused, giving her a reassuring smile. "You've got potential, Heathers."

"And that potential will remain unfulfilled," Addie insisted, passing Liam the control.

Liam twisted his body around, turning to look at her properly. "Hey, tell me something."

"Something."

Liam nudged her with his shoulder. "What happened between you and Louis? You two used to be like this," he twisted two fingers together, "And now you barely even talk."

Addie sighed, sitting back and crossing her arms. She looked to Niall for help, who shrugged and gave her a look that told her she needed to tell Liam.

"Look, during summer break, there was this one beach trip we took. It was Louis with Eleanor and me with Niall," Addie began to explain. "Eleanor mentioned she wanted a spot on the team. She thought I could help her out, and she thought that just because we were friends, I would give her the spot. I told her we should play a match and then we'll see."

Addie recounted the rest of the afternoon. They'd played the game, and at the end, Addie had been disappointed in Eleanor. She'd refused to give her the spot. Eleanor was furious. She snapped at Addie, calling her an incompetent captain and making unsupported claims that she was doing this just to lord her power over Eleanor.

"My cat plays better than you do," Addie had snapped at Eleanor. Granted, the comment had been unnecessary, but Eleanor was being a dick about the whole situation.

It was then that Louis and Niall appeared, and they both had stepped in to calm the girls down.

Addie had made the offer to give Eleanor personal training once a week, and said, "You can take volleyball lessons all you want this year, but you're not making the team. Get some actual practice in and then we'll talk. But right now, you're incompetent and your play is lousy."

Louis had defended Eleanor. Addie was pissed at both of them, and Niall was stuck in the middle as a mediator.

"Louis took Eleanor's side, said I was out of line with my comments," Addie huffed to Liam. "But she assumed I would give her the spot just because we were friends when she's a shit player! I let her down nicely, told her to work on her game and maybe she'd make the team next year. But then she called me incompetent and a dick."

"She was way out of line," Liam agreed. "If she doesn't make the team, it's because there's a better player who deserved the spot more, and just because you're friends, doesn't entitle her to that spot."

"Exactly!" Addie exclaimed, getting frustrated once again with the situation. "And even now that they've broken up, Louis refuses to apologize. I know I have nothing to apologize for. I stood my ground and I spoke the truth and Eleanor was the one who was out of line."

The door to the basement opened and the thuds of footsteps along the stairs rang through the room. Addie pursed her lips, sitting back on the couch as Liam and Niall began another round.

Louis sat down on the arm of the couch, a few inches from brushing shoulders with Addie. "What'd I miss, lads?"

Addie sat up. "I'm going to get some water."

Liam glanced at her furtively, and then at Louis. Addie shook her head, silently asking him to keep it under wraps.

Addie headed upstairs, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and then going back down.

"-Styles has been off his game lately," Louis said, ranting to Liam whose eyes were stuck to the screen. "He's got potential and he was doing good, but if he keeps going like this, I'm worried I'll have to bench him."

Addie had gone stiff at the mention of Harry's name, reminded of the last two weeks of dead silence and cold shoulders in the hallways of school. Every car ride home from training seemed too short, too silent without the comforting chatter of Harry's slow drawl.

Instead of home cooked dinners with Harry's family, she had to settle for microwaving week-old leftovers alone in her room.

Addie couldn't help it. She needed to know about Harry and most of all, she felt concern for him. Football had become so important for him. He loved it.

"You're going to make Styles a reserve?" Addie prompted, taking a swig of water as she sat down.

Louis made a face and nodded. "I don't wanna. I know he can do it, but he's just- I dunno."

Addie frowned. "I thought things were going well."

"Yeah, but he hasn't been pulling his weight lately. And our first game is next week, I can't have any dead weight. Nothing against him, he's just not been the best player lately."

"I get it," Addie prompted, "No matter the personal relationship you have with a person, you gotta think about the team. I'm captain, I know how this goes." She gave Louis a look. "But I guess it only really counts when it's your team we're talking 'bout, right?"

Louis finally processed what Addie was implying, and his expression switched immediately. "Jesus, Heathers, seriously? Get over yourself."

He stood up, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

That was always the problem with Addie and Louis. Both of them had huge prides and were equally stubborn.

But goddamn it, Addie was sick and tired of all of her friends being stubborn assholes. First Harry, and now Louis?

"Lou," Liam warned, a sharp edge to his voice. He looked like an adorable puppy most of the time, but when it came to his friends, he would do anything to protect him. Which sometimes meant putting on an intimidating facade.

Louis glanced at Liam. "What?"

Liam gave him a look, but Louis simply rolled his eyes.

Niall then stepped in, deciding to change the subject. Somehow he was always the peace negotiator in Addie's life. She should find a way to thank him. "So, Addie, speaking of Harry, have you talked to him?"

"Talked to him?" Zayn echoed, looking confused at what Niall said.

"After their fight," Niall stated, seemingly confused that they didn't know what he was saying.

Addie immediately snapped, "Niall." She didn't need her dirty laundry aired out for everyone to see.

He seemed to realize he was the only one who knew about Addie and Harry's fight. "Oh. Oops?"

Sighing, Addie hid her face in her hands. These boys were the most troublesome people she knew, and she just knew they were going to stick their nose in her business.

Liam asked, "You and Harry had a fight?"

"When?" Zayn asked.

"Who started it?" Liam prompted.

"Okay, stop," Addie threatened them, giving them a sharp glare. She inhaled deeply, and sat up. "'Bout two weeks ago, Harry and I had a bit of an argument-" Zayn paused their game. "Seriously?" He shrugged, and Addie rolled her eyes.

She continued, "I'm not even sure what the fight was about. It started when he made the assumption that Niall was my boyfriend. I explained to him that we were friends, and it was a mistake most people made."

None of them were fazed by this information. They were the ones who had spent most of last year being asked whether Niall and Addie were together, and always were the first ones to deny the rumors that spread.

"I don't know, at some point I made some comment that I guess pissed him off. He said I had been leading him on for weeks only for my boyfriend now to show up, I said he wasn't my boyfriend, he said 'sure' in the most passive fucking aggressive way possible. I told him to get the fuck out of my car, so he did but he slammed the door so I got pissed at him and that's when it really went off the rails."

"What'd you say?" Liam asked, gaze softened with sympathy as he listened to her story.

Addie scratched the back of her neck, looking at the floor. "He said..." her voice was just above a whisper, barely loud enough for them to hear, "He said 'you didn't even pay for the car. Your mom just bought it for you to make up for how shitty she is."

Liam's face dropped as the realization of the statement settled in. All of them had learned the hard way what Addie's mom was like.

"So I told him he was an insecure jealous asshole. And that Tomlinson only gave him the spot because he felt sorry for him," Addie confessed, guilty as sin as she did. "He told me that everyone thought I was- and I quote, 'a cold, narcissistic bitch who doesn't give a shit about her friends and just nitpicks and criticizes everything she can'".

"The fuck?" Louis exclaimed. Addie's eyes looked up from where they'd been stuck to wooden floorboards, to find that Louis' face was filled with outrage. "That little shit didn't say that to you."

Addie's face went cold. "Look, it's not important, alright?"

"Addie, he called you a bitch."

"He said everyone thought I was a bitch."

"Same difference-"

"Don't act as if you're so high and mighty," Addie snapped at Louis, finally sick and tired of him. "Harry's not the only one who's treated me like shit lately."

"That's different," Louis defended, sitting up. On instinct, Addie sat up too, glaring at him even if he was slightly taller than her. Meanwhile, Zayn and Liam watched the two argue with equally shocked faces.

"How is it different?"

"Because you're the one who's too stubborn to admit you were being a jackass!"

"Eleanor was a shit player and you know it!" Addie seethed, taking a step closer to him. Her anger was beginning to bubble over and become something uncontrollable.

Louis argued, "That doesn't mean you could call her a moronic bitch!"

"Wait, you did what?" Liam exclaimed at the same time Zayn said, "You called her what?"

"I only called her a bitch because she deserved it!" Addie shouted back, "She called me a dirty skank, and if you'd given one damn about me, I would've told you that. But you decided to side with your lying, conniving girlfriend who- suprise surprise!- is now your ex." She could feel the tears falling freely down her cheeks. She always cried when she was angry. "I thought you were family! I called you my fucking brother and you didn't even hear my side of the story before deciding I wasn't- before cutting me out of your life."

Embarrassment crawled under Addie's skin as she realized the huge argument she'd just had in front the other three. She sniffled, quickly wiping her tears away.

Addie scrambled to grab her coat and keys, leaving a shocked Louis to simply stare at the space she'd once occupied. Protests came from the other boys, most noticeably Niall, who was beginning to get up, "Addie!"

She ignored them all and ran up the stairs, not even bothering to say goodbye to Mrs. Horan as she rushed to her car. She wiped the tears out of her eyes, and clicked the button to unlock her car-

A pair of firm hands grabbed her, turning her around. Addie yelped, and Louis let his grip go slack. "Did she really call you that?"

Addie shrugged. "Everyone loves to slut-shame, right?"

It was easy to act as if it was no big deal that everyone said that about her. Addie had spent her whole life pretending not to care about other people's opinions. It was second nature at this point.

But Louis saw through that cheap mask. "She shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have sided with her." His voice broke, and just a small piece of fragility broke through, "I called you my sister too."

Addie couldn't help it. She yearned for family, for belonging and love. She'd forgive Louis a million times over because that's what it took.

She hugged him tightly, tears running down her cheeks and onto his denim jacket. She sniffled, "Sorry."

Louis shook his head, burying his face deeper in Addie's black coat, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "Let it all out, babe."

"I love you, asshole," Addie muttered through choked tears.

Louis sniffled, just slightly as he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. His blue eyes were glassy with tears. "I'm really sorry I was a dick."

Addie sniffled. "It's okay. Family sticks together, right? No matter what."

"No matter what."

---

Addie had bruises all over her knees and elbows, and she was about to pass out from exhaustion. But she put on a brave face for her girls, and led them through the match.

This match would determine whether or not their team made it to State Championships, which meant all the pressure was on Addie.

This was her team, the one she had spent countless weeks, days and hours training. Sleepless nights thinking about strategy and sweaty afternoons training until the sun went down and all her energy was spent- it all boiled down to this moment.

Addie's role as Captain would be put to the test. She couldn't fail.

And yet she didn't feel alone. All she had to do was look over at the bleachers and she'd see the people who had her back. Niall and Louis' cheers stood out from the rest, both from the accents and the volume of the shouts, but Addie could always make out Liam and Zayn's cheers even over the other two. And then there was Oli, a ginger-haired boy who'd been dragged along by Louis. He was kind, and he cheered for Addie even if they hadn't interacted much before.

Addie took a sip of her water and grinned as she gave a thumbs-up to her boys, even with sweat dripping down her spine and the thoughts whirling through her mind.

Her mom hadn't shown up. She never showed up. It'd been so painful every time for Addie last year, but it had been her four boys who had filled that gap left by her mom.

Ever since Zayn caught Addie crying right outside of the locker room as she tried to call her mom, but reached nothing but an answering machine, the four of them had ganged up and decided they would be Addie's supportive family. "You're not getting rid of us anytime soon," Zayn had winked at her that first match they'd shown up.

Addie wiped her sweat away and grabbed her teammates. "Okay, Tara, don't be scared to move through your zone, and Claire, hit the ball a little harder, it was too close to the net, alright?" The girls nodded with a grim look in their face. This was war. Addie clapped her hands. "Let's go."

Despite their best efforts, it came down to the final set. Each team had won two sets, and now it was just a matter of seeing who could get that final set.

Addie grabbed her girls, and told them, "Alice, stop hovering over Tara, and Lexi, when you spike the ball, hit it towards that girl, Grace. She won't see it coming. We've got this. We worked for this. We can do it."

It was excruciating to watch the other team hit the ball back with such ease, while some of Addie's girls were beginning to wear thin because of exhaustion. They kept going, but it was looking bad.

And it was when their captain, Jordan, hit the ball just a little too far out of Addie's reach that she finally panicked. Lexi was the only one who could reach it. But she was always afraid, scared that she would be the one who made the mistake.

But Lexi gave a running start and jumped, hitting that spike at just the right angle for Jordan to slide forward, scraping her body against the sand, with her hand just an inch away from where the ball hit the sand.

It was the boys' loud cheering that snapped Addie out of her daze. Lexi gave her a tight hug, and their team gathered in a circle, catching their breath as they shared grins of success.

They'd won.

Addie had won.

---

Addie's wet hair seeped into the back of her shirt, leaving a dark stain on the jersey, an Eagles shirt, one she'd stolen from Harry. She could still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the exhilaration of making it to State Championships made it impossible to wipe the grin off her face.

Maybe Addie still had a long way to go to Nationals, but in her first year as Captain and second year on the team, she'd qualified for State. That was a hell of an achievement.

Addie grabbed her gym bag, once again the final one to leave the room. She always made sure her team was all set before getting cleaned up herself. It was second nature by now.

She was supposed to head over to Tara's now, where her team and her friends would be waiting to celebrate, probably with a few packs of Louis' cigarettes and some six-packs of cheap beer. It was the kind of celebration Addie could've never appreciated last year, but it had turned into her own kind of comfort. Her home. Her family.

Addie locked the locker room behind her, making her way past the empty volleyball court and the extensive football field, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass. They always cut the grass before a football match, and next weekend there would be one. Addie would come and cheer for her boys, no doubt about it.

She dug around for her keys in the pockets and zippers of her bag, finally finding it and clicking it. She turned towards the sound, and found a certain curly-haired boy leaning against the hood.

Addie froze, unsure of how to proceed, but she made her way towards him. His head was ducked, and he seemed to be staring at his hands. Addie shouted, "You better not be asking for a ride!"

Harry's head snapped up, green eyes landing on her. He blinked, scrambling to stand up straight, grabbing something he'd left on the hood and hiding it behind his body. "I'm not!"

Addie let herself stop several feet away from Harry. "So why are you here?"

"To apologize." Harry moved his hands from behind him and outstretched them to reveal a bouquet of red roses.

Addie's lips parted. "Flowers."

"You said roses you were your favorite," Harry explained sheepishly. She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. She took the flowers from his hands, staring at the flowers. She'd never gotten flowers before. "They're apology flowers. And congratulations flowers. They- They're multipurpose."

Addie cracked a smile. Something about Harry's lighthearted jokes could always make her laugh. And the day had been good. She was happy.

Addie said, "I'm going to Tara's to celebrate our win."

Harry swallowed thickly, nodding somberly. "Right- I'll go then. Sorry."

Addie realized he'd taken it as a rejection and hastily said, "No- I meant, in case you wanna come with? And we can talk on the way, maybe?"

Harry blinked, giving her a once-over before slowly nodding. "Alright."

It was when Addie pulled out of the parking lot that Harry finally spoke.

"I'm really sorry."

"Haz-"

"No, I am," Harry insisted, twisting his body to face her fully. "I swear, I didn't mean anything of what I said, and I wanted to take it back and apologize but I didn't know how but I shouldn't have waited."

Addie cut in, "Harry-"

"You're just so amazing, and I think I like you, so I got jealous and that was wrong of me, I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and I don't think any of those things about you. Everyone's terrified of you, yeah, but they're so impressed by your talent and your intelligence and your kindness-"

"You think you like me?" Addie repeated weakly. She braked at the red light, and slowly turned to face a frozen Harry. "Harry, do you-"

"Yes." Harry looked shocked at his own words. "I don't want that to screw up our friendship, but I'm really in love with you."

A smile spread slowly over Addie's face as she pulled over to the side of the road.

"I can get out now, don't-" Harry started, but she cut him off by grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. Once he was close, she grasped his face delicately in her palm and gently laid her lips against his.

A gasp came from his lips, and she took the chance to trace the shape of his lips with her tongue. He emitted a soft groan, the sound swallowed by her slow and passionate kiss.

Harry's hands wandered up into her hair and on her waist, while she pulled him closer until she was practically in his lap. And he finally did finish the job, grasping her waist firmly and tugging her towards him until she was straddling his lap.

"That's my shirt, by the way," Harry murmured against her lips when she pulled away, resting her forehead against his.

Addie smiled. She knew everything would be alright. It'd all gone according to plan for the most part. She had a curly-haired, green-eyed boy wrapped around her finger, her heart in his hands and his shirt in her wardrobe. "It's not. It's mine now."

---

"C'mon, Addie, we're going to be late," Liam whined, knocking desperately on the bathroom door.

Addie groaned, fumbling for her lipgloss. "Shut up! You're not making this easier."

"You know Louis hates it when we're late."

"Well, he can shove his complaints up his-" Addie started, only to be cut off by the sound of a car engine rumbling. She yelped, the clattering of her makeup bag falling over and the contents pouring out echoing in her ears. She grabbed her lip liner and lipgloss, pulling the door open. "Shit. They're here."

Liam rolled his eyes, grabbing the makeup from her hands. "Go grab your bag, I'll meet you downstairs."

Addie smiled. "Thanks, babe."

She rushed to her room, grabbing her purse and pulling her heels on, glancing at the mirror in the hallway one last time and then making her way down the stairs, almost tripping halfway down.

Liam caught her before she fell. "Idiot."

"Thanks," Addie smiled nonetheless, giddy with excitement. "You look handsome, by the way. Zayn's going to love that suit."

Liam looked down at his fitted black suit, smiling to himself. "You think so?"

"He's going to die," Addie reassured him with a grin, grabbing her makeup and shoving it in her purse just in time for the bell to ring.

Addie made her way forward, eager to open the door, but Liam caught her wrist, pulling her back and adjusting the back of her dress, where the straps formed an 'X' but often got all tangled up. "Now you're all set."

Addie gave Liam's arm a quick squeeze of gratitude and opened the door. She met his green eyes, the color she'd become so familiar with for the last year. It was the color of the trees that grew, the grass you could smell in spring air, of christmas trees on holidays, of ivy that grew on you until it became a part of you.

Green was Harry's color. And now it was Addie's favorite.

She smiled at him, unable to keep a grin off her face for long around him. "Hi."

"Hey," Harry breathed, looking almost shocked as he took in the sight of her sharp eyeliner, the sweetheart neckline, the ruffles and layers of the skirt and the gloves she wore. "You look... you're beautiful."

There was something in his voice, that vulnerable honesty that always lingered, reminding Addie that he saw her as truly beautiful.

The way he looked at her, she could almost feel the love radiating from him, an affirmation that she was truly that special to him.

Addie smiled, confident in the fact that she was never letting Harry go. She took in the tailored pants, the cut of the blazer and the silk of his shirt. With curls swept back except for a single strand that fell in front of his face, framing his sharp cheekbones and that angled jaw.

The curve of his dimple appeared, and Addie's chest radiated with warmth as she grabbed the loops of his belt and pulled him forward, giving him a firm kiss.

Liam cleared his throat. "We gonna get moving?"

"Your boyfriend's waiting in the car," Harry muttered bitterly at Liam, unappreciative of the interruption.

Addie snickered as Liam pushed past them, practically skipping to the car where Zayn got out to greet him. She turned to Harry, wiping the lipgloss of his lips. "I love you."

Harry's eyes carried so much emotion, every bit of happiness and longing showing in them. He wanted her, he had her, and he was grateful for it. "I love you."

"You and me," Addie whispered, raising her pinky.

He crossed his pinky with hers. "That's my whole world."

A little game they'd made up one day. A way to reassure each other they would always be there, no matter what. It was silly and a little childish, but it was theirs.

The honking of the car was the second interruption to their moment. Harry inhaled sharply, glaring at the two boys he considered brothers waiting in the car.

Addie laughed, grabbing Harry's hand. "C'mon, it's prom, let's have some fun."

Prom was fun. They snuck in flasks of booze and spilled it into their cups of punch, easily sneaking behind teacher's backs.

Harry convinced Addie to dance with him, just for a little while. It turned into a good thirty minutes of them both smiling and enjoying the moment.

They snuck away for a quick make out session under the stairs, and when they returned, it was clear from the mark on Liam's neck that they weren't the only couple who'd snuck away.

Later, Louis snatched Addie's phone away as she was in the middle of taking pictures, and she chased him out of the gym and to the basketball court.

The others weren't far behind, watching with amusement as the two sibling bickered, their last time fighting before Louis went off to college and joined the big leagues.

That realization seemed to hit both Addie and Louis at the same time as she snatched her phone back. And their smiles faded as the facts settled over their chests like a weight.

It was then that Zayn kicked a ball towards Louis. "Show us some moves one last time."

Louis was up for the challenge and ready to distract himself from thoughts of what they might be losing. Addie kicked her heels off and padded onto the cold grass, chasing after Niall, who'd stolen the ball.

Their little group of six, the small clique that had formed and the bond that'd grown between them the last year, was all Addie could think about.

Addie didn't focus on Zayn and Louis leaving, she focused on winning the match, even with Niall's knee that had been acting up since his injury before the end of the season.

It turned into a match filled with trash talk, a few loose elbows and lots of smile and laughter. It was Niall, Addie and Harry versus Louis, Liam and Zayn.

"Pass it!" Addie shouted into the evening air, brisk to her bare arms, gloves discarded long ago as she waved her arm in the air. Harry caught her eye and kicked the ball towards her. A little too hard.

She tried to get it to hit her knee, but instead it flew into her stomach, making her bend over as she wheezed, all the air knocked out of her.

Harry ran towards her, his hand flying to rub her back as a steady stream of apologies spilled from his mouth. Meanwhile, the others snorted with laughter.

"Guess we end the year the way we started it, right?" Louis snickered, clapping Addie in the back. She straightened at the sharp pain, but smiled nonetheless.

"Shut it, Tomlinson."

No one won the match.

When Addie got home that night- or morning, it was three am. The alcohol had left her system hours ago, but the smell of tobacco from Zayn and Louis' smoking lingered on her dress, mixed with Harry's cologne.

Addie would miss these kinds of days when the two boys went off to college. But for now, she simply smiled into her pillow as she remembered the five loyal friends she'd made. And that one green-eyed boy she loved so dearly.

---

Addie cried during her graduation. For a number of reasons.

First, it was her mom's text that she wasn't showing up. No big surprise, but it still hit her hard. Then, it was seeing her friends in those cap and gowns. It meant they were all parting ways. And finally, it was as she got onto the stage for her speech as valedictorian, and looked into the crowd, expecting not to see a familiar face when-

"Let's go, Heathers!" Louis cheered, as Zayn shouted, "That's our girl!"

Addie grinned, reminded of the brothers she had. Her mom wasn't family. Those two were.

Addie told her speech perfectly, barely even glancing at her notes as she spoke about the loss of a stage of her life she'd never get back, strangers from another country who had embraced her with welcoming arms, and the friends she'd made along the way. She spoke of the hardships, and the challenges, but refused to leave out all the happiness and the victories.

She reminded them to take that leap of faith, jump and see where they landed, that the biggest risks came with the biggest wins. And the choice you feared the most would be the one to reap the rewards.

Addie got her diploma and after they tossed the caps in the air, it was almost as if it had been planned the way all four of the freshly-graduated kids sprinted towards Zayn and Louis, the six of them squeezing together for a hug.

That was the last time Addie cried. When she realized she'd found her forever home with this little mismatched family. Their Sacred group of Six.

---

It was at the end of their first year of college that Addie and Harry took their first trip as a couple. Just the two barely legal adults taking a trip to Mexico for the beaches.

Addie didn't tell her family she'd be in town, and instead just relaxed on the beach with Harry. It was when the weekend was coming to a close, and their last night at the resort was spent having a nice dinner.

He paid for dinner and then grasped her hand, leading her back onto the sand of the beach. The night sky was dark, freckled with the whites of stars and the gray hue of the moon.

The water reflected the moon, and a single one of Harry's knees touched the cold sand. His hand clutched a black box, and Addie's heart raced.

Words spilled out of his mouth, promises he would fulfill and letting all the love inside his heart linger in the air for Addie to know.

Six months later, they had a small wedding. A ceremony in Harry's backyard, with white and red roses everywhere and their family.

Addie's parents had been invited. She reckoned they could come as guests, but they wouldn't be allowed to participate in the wedding. Her parents had been bitter about not being a part of the wedding and being reduced to simple guests, so in protest, they didn't show up. It didn't bother Addie nearly as much as she thought it would.

Instead, it was Robin who walked her down the aisle and handed her off. And it was Anne beside her as the maid of honor. The two had done more for Addie in three years than her own parents had done in nineteen.

Addie had learned the hard way that family had nothing to do with blood. But it was a lesson she cherished having learned.

They'd decided to skip a little bit of the tradition and instead had divided the groomsmen/bridesmaids evenly between the two sides.

Liam and Zayn stood behind Harry, with Gemma in between them, while Niall and Louis stood behind Addie, Anne in between the two boys.

Over the last three years, Gemma had become like an older sister to Addie, guiding her through the rough parts of her life, and giving her a strong woman in her life she could turn to.

It was the first time several people had seen Addie cry, but it was only fitting for who they were. She kept a strong, cold face for everyone else, but the second her eyes met Harry's, it all melted away.

Every single wall Addie had ever built to keep herself safe crumbled to the ground with the one person she would always love. Her forever home, Harry.

And Harry cried, of course. He'd always been a shining star, but when he had Addie, he became the sun, fierce and radiating warmth. She was everything he had ever wanted and never known he needed.

Getting through their vows was the hardest part, both of them choking up as they tried to get through their speeches. Harry had had to write his down because every time he tried to speak it from memory, he'd get so distracted by the knowledge that he was marrying Adelaide Heathers, that he'd forget it.

And Addie managed to memorize hers, but faltered halfway through as she sniffled. It was Louis' reassuring squeeze on her shoulder that gave her the strength to finish.

Her speech was beautiful and poetic, and she'd worked tirelessly to make sure it could capture the essence of her adoration for Harry. But words were never enough.

She finished with one last sentence; "I can't wait to have forever with you."

After the ceremony, the two had had to retire to a private room before beginning the reception. Just letting each other process the fact that that was it. They'd just promised each other forever.

"I can't wait to start the rest of our lives," Addie said. "Me and you."

"That's my whole world."

---

Addie was in college for her scholarship to practice professional volleyball. She would later go on to win the Summer Olympics her first season as a player, and would rise through the ranks until eventually becoming Captain.

Harry kept going with football for several years. But after getting a camera for his birthday, soon discovered his passion for photography. He quit the team and began discovering his love for art.

He worked as a freelance photographer for a couple of years, and then worked with a highly-esteemed fashion magazine, worked as a model once with the same magazine before discovering he preferred being behind the lens than in front of it.

Harry then worked as a photographer for an album photoshoot for the highly-recognized Love Band, and then became close friends with members Mitch and Sarah Rowland. It was then that he began venturing into music.

After Addie was injured during her last match before her team could qualify for the Olympics, she was forced to drop out from the rest of the season. She them began to explore writing, and published several compilations of poems and short stories in the six months of break before returning to her team.

Years later, once Addie retired, she would join Harry with his exploration of music and the two would co-write an album. It would be Adelaide Heathers' debut in music and Harry Styles' fifth studio album.

They would spend the next few years exploring art, creating new and bizzare things, and most of all, staying in touch with the family they'd had since they were kids.

This is your reminder that in every world, and in every universe, no matter the circumstances, Addie, Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn find their way to each other and become a family.

And in every universe, Adelaide Heathers and Harry Styles fall in love. And despite the twists and turns, it always works out in the end.

[life-love-geekculture]

Okay, let’s talk Lucanis’s mind prison (Warning: Spoilers):

I honestly haven’t seen much discourse yet on how the “prison guards” reflect aspects of our favorite assassin’s personality. So, I figured I throw my two cents into the ring.

Let’s start with Caterina. Honestly, the most surface level of our four candidates, especially with Spite spelling it out for us. Caterina is Lucanis’ fear. Specifically, his fear of failing. Failing and disappointing Caterina. Failing the expectations set for him and by him. Failing Rook. Not killing Ghiln’nain at Weisshaupt was the cherry on top of an absolute shit sunday of what Lucanis would see as a year’s worth of failure. He’s been captured, tortured, and turned into an abomination by the very people he’s supposed to put the fear of the Maker into. It all just confirms those secret fears of not being good enough he’s been carrying for most of his life. And now he’s being confronted with a similar situation but with stakes on a personal level. Either decision he makes, he (at this point) loses.

Next up, Harding. Harding is his fear of Spite. Of what he could become, and who he could hurt, if he ever loses a modicum of control over the demon. It’s no accident Harding’s is the face he summons to project this. She might be the most sympathetic to his plight and still be willing to kill him if he ever loses control. Harding tells him in the real world that she would know it wouldn’t be his fault, but she wouldn’t let him hurt their friends. And Lucanis encourages her with this! Harding also seems to be the only other person besides Rook to ask if he would like a different room and to show concern with his isolating patterns. The fact she cares in spite of her fear (which he shares) makes her a perfect representative. Because he might literally kill himself then risk hurting her.

Neve. Ah Neve, a potential love interest or Lucanis’s best friend if you romance him as Rook. By this point in the quest, Rook has bulldozed their way past Lucanis’s fears and insecurities. Now it’s time to lash out. If you listen to his & Neve’s banter with each other and in general, they are the driest pair of a-holes you will ever meet. It’s great! So, naturally, when it comes to throwing that cynicism and sarcasm up like a freaking shield, Neve is who he thinks about. I also love the insight this section gives into how Lucanis groups people in his head (family, enemy, and contract). That’s not Spite. Spite, we’ve seen, tends to build the framework of his interactions from his host. That is all Lucanis, baby! We also get a little more insight into how Lucanis views Neve herself. I like to think Spite’s description is kind of the gut instinct, first impression our boy had meeting Neve in the Ossuary or later at the Lighthouse. On paper, she’s a Tevinter mage like the ones who held him for a year. His head knows she’s not the same, but I’ll bet she set off all his defensive instincts and now there’s guilt associated with that. Because he likes Neve. He gets along with Neve. He really needs to teach Neve how to appreciate coffee. But he can’t shake how he felt first meeting her and, like everything else, he carries it with him.

Fucking Illario. It tracks that Lucanis at his most self-hating would dredge up this dumbass. This is the crux of his current dilemma. He loves his cousin. They’re the last person the other & Caterina has. But if he’s going to do this the Crow way, Illario has to die & Caterina will likely fall in the crossfire. Or, worse, she will never forgive him. It is the surest confirmation he is the monster everyone thinks he is. After all, only an abomination would kill all the family he has left. And because it’s Lucanis and it’s Rook, who just keeps sidestepping every excuse he can come up with, his last card is to show the monster behind the man. To show Rook the demon of Vyrantium.

In case you couldn’t tell, I love this mission!

[dryya-doesnt]

Hi tumblr it’s been a second I’m swamped with school but I’m working on a story idea….this is Minerva (I’m up for name suggestions but that’s her name for now).

She’s the empress of an empire (Strigikana), where it is being invaded by a neighboring country. Her fighting style is mostly defensive (an excuse for me to design cool armor). This is one of her potential designs I haven’t decided yet.

And this is Gale. He’s a stinker. Current court musician to the Empress (and kind of her adoptive son…?) He loves his mother in an “I need her approval to feel worthwhile” sort of way.

Please give name suggestions for the Empress she has a lot of owl motifs and is more of a tactician/defensive warrior than an offensive front liner.

[thisisnotthenerd]

misfits & magic ii stat tracking: episode 9

the spreadsheet, for all to see

we're so close to the end and yet have so much more to do.

some brilliant moves in this episode. delicious lore for those of us that love it. looking back on the start, it does feel like the structure of the adventure was achieved, but the detours along the way and shortcuts in between have made it a unique little story.

i have to shoutout a few things:

evan hitting a d20 in magic again after making and breaking a magic item

k summoning the jumpsuits to help with the orrery ritual

jammer leading the orrery ritual

sam summoning the skye serpent with a selfie

the ritual of names to abjure and free the serpent

sam bonding with the qohlye

the qohlye being a middle-aged black man and also a goat at the same time. the art looked like a demon of the crossroads.

this is the first episode in a while where no one has gotten hurt

as always, the tag is #mismag ii stat tracking if you want to follow along.

mechanical/lore notes:

the skye serpent was summoned against to protect the orrery originally, and bound for millennia to that purpose

the fundamentals of magic as we know so far: intention, material, performance, location. in ritual, each of these must be addressed in order to add power and will sufficient to the working.

spellcraft and ritual are distinct as workings of magic: spells are reactionary while ritual takes deliberate invocations of each aspect of magic. rituals involve bigger workings and thus involve more sacrifice and channelling of the magicks that exist within the world and that the user summons to their will.

the qohlye gifted a boon once before to the wizard bombini, who helped to found gowpenny and bound the tadeshacourt, among other workings of magic

the hoopty is now grounded and the pilot program is flying to the islands of their own volition.

island/creature tracking:

the gowcentric orrery tracks the funnels of magic to the well at gowpenny. the orrery functions to create a cistern of magic that could be drawn upon by those wizards that bound it initially and their subsequent societies--its dispelling will disperse magic through the world more evenly. great workings must follow the ancient principles in order to be accomplished.

galamanis, the blind hellbender of creation. feeds into the chaos. things can be drawn from the ether, and that which is brought forth may be shaped by channeling through the self or through the material that has been created. currently channeled by whitney jammer.

qohlye, the winged goat of divination. truth and all that it means, opening the eyes of the viewer to the world in all of its potential. but the things that exist there do not always want to leave. who takes human form to communicate. currently channeled by sam butler.

seegenpelater, the double headed camel of captivation. can convince the mind of anything and the body with it. but the doing of magic takes a great price, of destruction and violence, and the island will gild the edges so it does not feel as though the world has changed.

weugan, the inverted wolf of amplification. symbols that speak to the increase of extant energy, matter and system. the condensed amplification of magic bleeding across deadened ground. currently channeled by k tanaka

tadershecourt, the skull antlered bear of defense and depletion, who warns of the necessary fear of the capabilities of magic and draws away from that which exists. protection of the self and others, of mind and body and soul. the full aspect of which the tadeshacourt is a part. currently channeled by evan kelmp.

miskoro, the fish-tailed bat of transmutation. taking energy or matter and maintaining the amount and intensity, but changing its identity.

the skye serpent who surrounds these pillars of magic in the storm, who was summoned to protect the orrery from a plane long forgotten and bound for millennia. who was freed from a eternity of servitude by the pilot program in their improvised ritual.

character profiles:

whitney jammer:

items: familiar (spalding), broom, magic sock of tracking, band-aid, wings

motive: teamwork (+1) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d10 (+1)

mind: d6 (+1)

magnetism: d6

maneuver: d12 (+2)

matter: d20 (+1)

mettle: d10 (+1)

mark*: d20 (+1)

magic: d20 (3rd progression)

k tanaka:

items: familiar (teddy), self-contained server of amplification, shadow boon

motive: network (0) 2nd Progression

injures: none

melee: d6 (+1)

mind: d12 (+1)

magnetism: d12 (+1)

maneuver: d10 (+1)

matter: d4 (+2)

mettle: d20 (+2)

mark*: d4 (+1)

magic: d10 (4th progression)

sam britain:

items: familiar (terminator 2), broom, hoopty keys, avail oneselfie stick, shadow boon

motive: community (0) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d8 (+1)

mind*: d20 (+1)

magnetism: d20 (+3)

maneuver: d20

matter: d4 (+1)

mettle: d12

mark: d6

magic: d12 (2nd progression)

evan kelmp:

items: familiar (shadow), broom (pushbroom), backpack of holding, wingtip shoes, tome of nimble workings, wrench of fixing, britain's got magic pin

motive: belonging (0) 2nd Progression

injuries: none

melee: d20 (+8)

mind: d20 (+2)

magnetism*: d20

maneuver: d6

matter: d6 (+1)

mettle: d10

mark: d8

magic: d20 (4th progression)

[mvrdermeharder]

I’m still very much fucked up over ch 284… in a good way and in a bad way. I have a lot of contradictory feelings and thoughts regarding Isagi x Kaiser.

Bc on one hand: I’ve always wanted to see a team-up between them. It has been teased for a looong time, them being extremely similar to one another has been stated by multiple characters, and it has been the focal point of the NEL arc in general. And we KNOW just how well Isagi can work with someone who thinks in a similar way and who gets his plans (Isagi x Rin in U20, Isagi x Hiori in Ubers, Isagi x Noa in Manshine).

So we could only imagine how well someone who is a perfect mirror to Isagi (regarding playmaking, positioning, play style, comprehension of the field, psychological skills, … ) would play together with him. I think what a good Kaisagi team-up would look like is a continuous “no-look-chemical-reaction” as we’d seen with Isagi x Hiori. (But the requirements of a chemical reaction are not met just yet… and i’ll get back to this)

Both Kaiser and Isagi had learned to understand each others’ abilities and mirrored their own evolution off of them (Isagi with metavision + throwing his pride away for the sake of winning, Kaiser learning not to settle + offering up everything to improve) so now they are even more similar thanks to observing each other…

And in previous games there had been problems bc of the similarities: how they were always at the same place at the same time, resulting in dire mistakes by getting in each other’s way intentionally or unintentionally. But now, as they actually respect each other, they can use one another as “an additional me” on the field.

They understand themselves just as well as they understand each other bc of their similarities, so they could (hypothetically) visualize a play constructed around this. They could rely on each others abilities, thought processes and playmaking because they’re both capable of visualizing the same thing.

What i’m trying to get at is this: nobody knows your thoughts better than yourself. But now, there are 2 Isagis or 2 Kaisers on the field, for them to use as objects for their plans, relying on shared image and understanding, leaving no room for mistakes.

However. A chemical reaction requires their protagonistic goals to align. And there is no way in hell that either of them would give up their desire to score… that would be horrible writing for Kaiser at least, as he’s just found his true originality (to score for love), so he can’t compromise this development that quick… it doesn’t make sense narratively.

And regarding Isagi’s “new discovery” abt how he wants to just… win. We could interpret it as he wants to win no matter what he has to sacrifice, but I think he’d still want to be the one scoring at the end.

So, with the next ch name “Contract” it’s possible that it will be about Kaiser and Isagi establishing a contract that benefits them both: they will work together to get to the penalty area/get through the defense, and from then on they’ll both try to position themselves to score without the other interfering (or something like this… still competing in their own way to score, but helping each other until the last steps). This would make a “temporary-goal-in-common”, which could suffice the basis of a chemical reaction.

But…

On the other hand… it would be sooooooo good to see Kaiser reject Isagi’s offer. And not just bc “woo plottwist!!”, but because it would actually make sense for Kaiser to do that. Right now he is dead set on “living in restriction” so i don’t know if he’d be willing to team-up with Isagi to make things easier for himself.

And also, based on his reactions (or lack there of) this chapter, it’s clear that he wasn’t considering a team-up until Isagi had requested it. He looks surprised by it, in fact.

Additionally, his reaction to being used by Noa was to rebel against it: he does not want to stay in BM to dethrone Noa, he wants to forge his own path instead. And in this chapter, we could see that his reaction to Isagi saying he “exploited” or “used” Kaiser to his plans… well, he certainly isn’t thrilled by this either imo. To my understanding, he’s always been in a “use and/or be used” situation: with his father, Ray Dark, Ness, Noa… So it would make total sense for him to reject Isagi’s offer to team-up and use each other, as he’s quite possibly sick and tired of this.

So well… i don’t know. I REALLY, TRULY, GENUINELY want to see Isagi and Kaiser team-up.

Eventually.

But I feel like right now is just not the perfect time for it (mainly bc of Isagi’s weird character writing tbh).

But since this is the last match they’re playing on the same team… I doubt that we’d get a Football Club arc before the World cup, so even if they sign with the same club, it’s unlikely that we’d see them play together after the NEL… bc cmon, there are already 284 chapters, there is no way Kaneshiro would stretch the story out even more. The World cup arc’ll be long enough anyways.

So yeah. It’s basically now or never for a Kaisagi team-up.

Which is kinda unfortunate.

And while I’m hyped for it bc i LOVE THEM, the circumstances are unsatisfying, which is the thing that annoys me lol

Jfc this got so long

[night-owl-bard]

My Personal Experience with Mizuki and Mizu5

Coming out, fear of abandonment, loneliness, and learning to trust others.

When I started liking and following the Project SEKAI franchise, the game hadn't even been released in its global version yet. So you can tell I’ve been here for quite some time.

I identified with Mizuki right from the beginning. A person whose defense mechanism is to avoid or joke around in tense or conflicting situations? Someone with deep-seated anxiety and fear of being alone? Someone who never shows their true self out of fear of rejection? Well, that’s just me.

When I first started following the story, I was about the same age as the characters. Now I’m older, with more life experience—which, while not a lot, still makes me quite different from how I was when I was Mizuki's age.

The 'core' of this character revolves around two things: identity and connection.

Mizuki wants to be themselves—to dress, behave, and live in a way that feels true and comfortable.

And Mizuki wants to have people by their side. They want to feel supported, to support others, to hang out with real friends, and to have people who stay in their life. They're tired of losing.

Mizuki believes these two desires can’t coexist.

At first, they purposely keep their distance from the rest of Niigo so that, when the inevitable happens and everyone leaves, it won’t hurt as much. Later, they decide to make the most of the time they have left with the group. Mizuki doesn’t doubt that Niigo might accept them; they fear that Niigo only accepts them out of kindness, as if it’s out of pity.

Mizuki doesn’t want to be treated like a charity case. They want genuine connection, true belonging.

I don’t relate as much to Mizuki’s personality (I think Kanade is the one most like me), but I deeply connect with their struggles around identity and gender expression (I’m agender and AFAB) as well as with their issues of trust and abandonment.

I’m doing much better these days, but I know all too well what it feels like to want to disappear, to push people away out of fear that they’ll leave first, to keep everyone at arm's length. I have amazing friends who give me all the support in the world (they’re my Rui, wishing my heart to be protected haha).

Sometimes, I still fear ending up alone, that other circumstances will drive us apart, or that they're only kind to me because they’re good people. But those are just the bad days, which eventually fade away into a sea of good ones.

When I look at Mizuki, I see my younger self—scared, sad, lonely, and hopeless. I deeply wish to see a healing arc for them, just like we’re seeing with Mafuyu. It would be wonderful to see a character I identify with so much learn that they can have a happy life.

That they can be themselves and still be loved

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile Pt 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Writing Master post

Cuddly boys are back! Come join in the pile!

@lazywriter-artist @wolf-feathers12

Imagine:

A chaplain sitting on the floor. One Astartes leaning against him. Another rests their head on his lap. A third rests again the Chaplains back. He has his arms around the two marines he can reach. They witnessed their brother torn apart by daemons then be possessed. They had to grant him the Emperor’s mercy. It is the chaplain’s job to comfort and guide them.

A very disgruntled Ad Mech. They’d been warned. Several times. They’re drinking. Don’t go in there. You won’t be able to do any work. Yet they brushed it off. Now they were pinned against a Space Wolf’s chest, the arm of one and the leg of another on top of them. They all drooled snd snored loudly as they curled up with one another. The Ad Mech was stuck there for a bit. They would not be finishing their tasks anytime soon. The one whose chest they were on wrapped his arms around them and sleepily nuzzled their head.

A Sanguinary Priest holding onto a blood Angel that experienced the Red Thirst for the first time. Comforting the battle brother as he cries for the terror of it or if he caused any casualties.

A Drukhari is absolutely mortified. What they initially thought was an attack was not. They stand there, stiff as a board and utterly confused and not sure if they should be disgusted or not. The warband of chaos marines they had been with suddenly surrounded them then plopped themselves on the floor and wrapped their arms around each other. Drukhari in the middle. Is… is this some new… kind of torture? Psychological warfare?? It’s so warm and they seem.. happy?? These are the same marines they had flailed people with not even hours earlier and now they were doing… this.

The Lion and Guilliman have just reunited. There’s been official ceremony between both of their legions. Speaking to inquisitors and imperial high lords. Then the paperwork. Throne the paperwork. Then a feast. It’s been so much but now… it’s just the two of them. The only moment they’ve had since finding each other again. There’s so many unspoken emotions. Both positive and negative. The two brothers stare at each other, weary of what the other will do. Yet there is relief. Relief of no longer being alone. Neither can seem to find the words so they go off of instinct. The longing to embrace and be embraced. The two hug, standing in silence. There’s nothing that action can’t speak for in this moment. Resting heads against each other, arms tight and fully encompassing the other. The imperium was slowly rebuilding. There were so many enemies. But it was okay. They weren’t alone. They were brothers. They’d support each other.

Every so often an “unlucky” custodian ends up surround by imperial fists. There’s no cause for alarm or defensive stance though. The Custodian just sighs and allows the Fists to lead them to where they’ve strategically set up various blankets, pillows, mattresses, and tapestries. Armor racks await near it to be used. All remove their armor and snuggle up close to the Custodian. Custodes are bigger than Space Marines. Being held by one feels safe and a bit like being held by a Primarch. It doesn’t happen too often and there’s always at least one custodian who will oblige. Plus, holding marines like babies is cute to them. The Sisters of Silence said so.

The invasion had been stopped. Carnage of tyranids lay everywhere. There’s one lone space marine that is in your village. Cut off from their squad as they defended you and your people. He waits patiently for his brothers to find him. You go up and place an arm over his, wishing to comfort him. This is what led to him lying on the ground with as many villagers he can hold. Since he saved you, you decide not to question it.

The Ravenguard have a set room for cuddle piles. It’s lovingly referred to as the nest. The softest blankets and pillows possible. Shiny objects decorate the walls and floor. It’s very well taken care of. No armor allowed in to prevent crushing anything or tearing fabric. You better have cleaned yourself up and gotten all that grime off of you before you step in. The chaplain is watching. It seems small but so many ravenguard can fit in there like sardines in a can. Curled up in blankets and around each other. Don’t tell Kayvaan but some marines have actually forgotten where their room is because they always sleep in here.

The Emperor claimed he had no regrets. But now he most certainly had one. He lay there, dying and fading away. Sanguinius’s body is off to one side and the body of Horus to the other. He thinks back to the vow he made. He wouldn’t get attached to his sons. It caused weakness. He would not hug or embrace them. This was too important. Yet now his heart ached. He wished he could have held them all at once in his arms when they were babies. To have greeted them with an embrace. Call them all to his room and roost around his bed as he held them. He wished he had. At least once. Especially the ones now dead. Two and eleven included. He had no strength left. He couldn’t crawl to the two bodies near him and hold them. After all, he was a cuddly man by nature. The Astartes and primarchs all got it from somewhere.

Even after turning to chaos, Fulgrim had days where memories and emotions overwhelmed him. Sending him into deep melancholy. It was these days that N’Kari would wrap themselves around him and clasp their arms around him. Have him surrounded by soft warmth. Some days he just wanted to be held.

A few orks once spotted a space marine cuddle pile. It must be some sort of strategy or trick. It seemed to make those beaky gits fight better. They don’t know its purpose or what it’s for but they attempt their own cuddle pile. The biggest lays down first then the others and finally the gobbos. It’s silent for a few moments as they try to figure out what it does. One snorts and struggles to hold in laughter. It’s followed by snickering and hushing. It’s another that breaks first. It’s now just a big pile of laughing and giggling shrooms.

[authortelevision]

jealous george ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,304 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆flatmate george clarke, fluff, friends to lovers

you have been friends with george for a while and since moving in to his shared flat you’ve learnt that chris loves to tease and flirt with you, after playing truth or dare you’ve also learnt that george might have a truth he isn’t ready to tell you yet

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thanks @wroetolex for the idea !!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You’d been friends with George Clarke for as long as you could remember. From climbing trees in your back gardens as kids to navigating the worst of university together, George had always been a constant in your life. There was something lovely about him—reliable, funny, the kind of person you could count on no matter what.

It was an easy friendship, the kind where you could pick up conversations exactly where you’d left off, even after months apart. But now, living together in a flat with two other housemates, things felt… different.

It wasn’t that George had changed exactly. He was still the same dry, sarcastic George who could make you laugh with just a stupid impression or an under-the-breath comment. But there were moments now where you’d catch him looking at you a second too long or leaning just a little closer than necessary.

And then there was the way he touched you.

It had always been natural for George to be touchy, he was just that kind of person. But lately, the touches felt… different. Softer, more deliberate. Like the way he’d rest his hands on your waist when squeezing past you in the kitchen, or brush stray bits of hair from your face without a second thought. Sometimes, when you were sitting next to each other on the sofa, he’d place his hand on your thigh lightly stroking it without a second thought. The gesture that didn’t seem to have any reason other than the fact that he could.

It wasn’t just you noticing, either.

Arthur had teased you about it more than once, laughing about how George would always stand just a little too close when you were talking, or how his hand would linger on your shoulder whenever he walked behind you. “Honestly, how have you been friends that long and you haven’t at least kissed yet,” he joked one night, all you could do is roll your eyes.

“He’s just like that,” you’d insisted, brushing it off. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure you believed it.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this strange awareness of him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to notice when you were upset, even before you said anything. Or the way his laugh could light up an entire room, making you forget whatever was bothering you. Or maybe it was just the fact that George was, well, George, uncomplicated in the best way, someone who just got you.

But nothing had ever come of it, and you weren’t sure it ever would. After all, you were friends. Best friends. You’d never even thought about risking that, until now.

Because now, Chris was in the picture.

Chris had been a bit of an issue from the moment you’d moved in, with his constant routine and inappropriate jokes about you and George, the kind of guy who could talk his way out of anything. He loved pushing boundaries, especially George’s, and lately, it seemed like he’d taken a particular interest in you. It was harmless, of course, just Chris being Chris.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But you couldn’t ignore the way George’s mood shifted whenever Chris’s teasing got a little too much, or how his comments became harsher, more defensive. And you definitely couldn’t ignore the way George’s touchiness seemed to intensify, his hand on your back lingering just a moment longer when Chris was in the room, as if to quietly stake a claim.

Something was definitely going on between you two. You could feel it every time George looked at you, every time he made one of those quiet brutal remarks when Chris got too bold. Whatever it was, it was building.

And you had no idea what would happen when it finally came to a head.

The flat was filled with the comfortable chaos of a lazy night in. The living room was a patchwork of cushions, discarded blankets, and half-eaten Thai food. Someone had dimmed the lights, the glow of the lamps giving everything a warm, intimate feel. Your flatmates were sprawled across the modern furniture, all caught up in the easy feeling of the moment.

It was Chris’s idea to play Truth or Dare—of course, it was Chris’s idea. He thrived on moments like this, always looking for ways to push people just far enough for his own amusement. You were sat on the sofa between George and Chris, your usual spot, though you couldn’t help but notice how George seemed just a little closer than usual tonight.

Chris was in fine form, as always. He’d already embarrassed Arthur into confessing his worst Hinge date story and dared George to drink an unholy combination of Birra Moretti and salsa. Now, he leaned back with the self-satisfied smirk of someone who thought he owned the room.

“Alright,” Chris said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My turn and imma say truth.. and my truth is… that I used to have a little crush on you.” He directed the comment squarely at you, the grin on his face daring you to react.

You blinked, thrown off balance for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re such a lying asshole.”

“An attractive asshole, though,” Chris said back, leaning into the bit. “I mean, let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t? You’re funny, you’re gorgeous.. I guess… and honestly, you’re the only one in this flat who doesn’t steal my shit.”

“Wow, high standards,” you responded, trying not to laugh.

Chris grinned, unbothered by your deflection. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re ever sick of these boys, my door’s always open, we can talk over some food.”

The room burst into laughter, everyone enjoying the ridiculousness of it all. But beside you, George had gone very still.

“Yeah,” George said, his tone light but with an edge that made you glance at him. “Good luck with that. Maybe next time you should ask her opinion on your shitty cooking before you start planning your future.”

Chris tilted his head, pretending to consider this. “Ah, okay so she has preferences. A crucial first step. Of course.”

“Especially since she doesn’t even like your tasteless lamb,” George added, his voice sharp in a way that felt out of place.

Chris shrugged, unfazed. “Well, we all have our faults,” he said, winking at you. “I’m sure I could convert you eventually.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

The conversation moved on, but the energy in the room felt different after that. George didn’t join in the way he usually did. Instead, he stayed quiet, his arms crossed, offering the occasional dry comment whenever Chris’s flirting got too much.

As the game continued, Chris leaned further into the joke, making playful comments about him liking you.

“Honestly,” he said later, “if we weren’t living together, I’d have asked you out ages ago. But, you know, flatmate stuff and all.”

“Wow, you really know how to talk to a woman,” you joked, shaking your head.

George leaned forward, speaking before Chris could. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘romance’ like passive-aggressively leaving your dishes in the sink.”

Chris laughed. “Hey, those are part of my charm. Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me if I moved out.”

George didn’t miss a beat. “I think we’d survive. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with you filming your voice overs at 2 a.m.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, he’s got a point there.”

Chris held a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “You hurt me, both of you. But don’t worry, George. I’ll give her front-row tickets at all my games, and I’ll sing Arthur’s songs at our wedding.”

That did it. George sat back abruptly, his expression hardening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how she’s always pictured her big day.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, the room fell quiet.

Later in the game, the group was getting tired, but Chris wasn’t done yet. He leaned back, arms stretched behind his head, and grinned. “You know, George, you seem to know everything about her. Should I be worried you’re my competition?”

George’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his voice dangerously calm. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t pretend to have a crush when you don’t even know the basics.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Who says I’m pretending?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what?”

Chris winked at you, his tone still awfully calm. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless you’re interested, in which case…”

George stood abruptly, cutting him off. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

He left the room without another word, leaving you and the rest of the flatmates staring after him in stunned silence. Chris glanced at you, his smirk softening. “What’s wrong with him, I was only joking?”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weird tension. “I’ll go check on him.”

You found George in the kitchen. He was scrubbing the counter with a level of focus that suggested he was trying to erase more than just crumbs. The faint hum of the fridge filling the space as you leaned against the kitchen counter. George stood a few steps away, arms still scrubbing. His hair, a soft chestnut brown that always seemed to fall perfectly without any effort, was slightly mussed, and his jaw clenched as he stared at the counter.

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows.

George didn’t look at you. His beautiful blue eyes, usually so clear and steady, flicked toward the counter instead. “Hey,” he responded.

George said, his voice sharper than he intended. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the weight of it was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

The kitchen light caught his eyes, making them impossibly blue, like the sky just after a rainstorm. You could see the frustration etched into his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

You leaned against the counter, watching him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said shortly, his tone jarring.

“Right.” You crossed your arms, not believing him for a second. “So the whole moody silence thing is just for fun, then?”

That earned you a faint, fake laugh. He set the sponge down with a sigh, finally turning to face you. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head, studying him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Chris, does it?”

George rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Chris’s an idiot.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “But why does that bother you so much? He was just joking around.”

George’s jaw tightened. “Because he doesn’t know you.”

The intensity of his words surprised you. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t know anything about you,” George said, his voice rising slightly. “I’ve known you for ages. He doesn’t know shit, like that you hate lamb no matter if it’s his or not or that you can’t stand his awkward karaoke singing or that you hum when you’re nervous. He doesn’t know you reread the same book every year because it makes you feel safe, or that you always eat the edges of your toast first because you like saving the best part for last. He just… throws out stupid lines like it’s all a joke.”

You stared at him, stunned by the outburst. “George…”

He looked away, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. It’s not my business.”

You stepped closer, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every inch you closed between you. “George,” you said again, “do you want a hug?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a second, he blinked at you like you’d spoken in another language. “What?”

“A hug,” you repeated, smiling gently. “You look like you could use one.”

He hesitated, his arms unfolding awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Uh… sure?”

You didn’t wait for him to decide fully. Instead, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. His body tensed at first, like he was unused to the softness of the moment, but then he relaxed, his arms coming around you hesitantly at first and then more firmly.

He smelled like the faintest trace of aftershave and the laundry detergent you both used. His body was warm, and for a second, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.

When you pulled back, you caught the faint pink tint creeping up his cheeks. He was looking anywhere but at you now, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Are you blushing?” you teased, grinning.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice a little too high.

You laughed, crossing your arms. “It’s okay, George. It’s just me.”

He let out a huff of air, finally looking at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Don’t get what?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Chris’s an idiot. That’s all.”

You sighed, stepping closer again. “You’re being stupid, you know that? It’s not like I’m interested in Chris or anything.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “You’re not?”

“No,” you said giggling. “Fucking hell George, just stop talking.”

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss you’d imagined when you’d let your mind wander late at night. It was softer, lighter. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

But then his hands came up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss continued, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. His fingers were slightly wet from his scrubbing, his touch almost like a ghost, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, you saw something in his eyes that made your knees weak.

He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said quietly.

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… okay,” he stammered, his face reddening again.

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re actually quite cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“Stop,” he murmured, finally smiling. “But I thought you liked Chris.”

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, “Of course I don’t, you’re the only idiot i’d like”

George let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “Good,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I’m pretty sure I’d lose my mind if I had to watch him keep trying.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, sweeter. “You must know he was only joking?”

He smirked, finally regaining some of his usual confidence. “Yeah I definitely knew that.”

For a moment, the world outside the two of you didn’t exist—the messy kitchen, the flatmates in the living room, even Chris with his incessant teasing. All of it faded away as George leaned in again, his lips kissing yours with a little more certainty this time.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what happens now?” he asked.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his. “Well, for starters, you’re going to stop being moody every time Chris makes a joke.”

George chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours lightly. “No promises.”

“And,” you added, tilting your head to meet his gaze, “we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Okay?”

His smile widened, his blue eyes softening. “Okay.”

Just as you were about to kiss him again, the sound of Chris’s voice carried from the living room. “Hey! What’s going on in there?”

George groaned, resting his head on your shoulder dramatically. “He’s actually insufferable”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “Come on. Let’s get back out there before he starts another round of Truth or Dare.”

George sighed but didn’t let go of your hand. “Fine. But if he says one more word about a wedding, I’m throwing him out.”

You grinned, pulling him toward the door. “You’re so dramatic, Oh my God.”

As you stepped back into the living room, George’s let go of your hand, Chris immediately spotted the change between you both. He raised an eyebrow. “Look who decided to rejoin us.”

Arthur glanced between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. Are you two—”

“Shut up,” George interrupted, though his tone lacked any real heat.

You squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “Don’t worry, Arthur. You’ll get the full story later.”

Chris leaned back, clearly delighted. “About time,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’ll have to back off now, huh?”

“Guess you will,” George shot back, his tone dry but the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

As the laughter died down, you caught Chris’s eye and couldn’t help but smirk. “For the record,” you said, your voice carrying a teasing edge, “I always knew you were joking, Chris.”

Chris put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Joking? I would never joke about something so serious.”

George muttered something under his breath, and you grabbed his hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” you whispered, just for him. Then you turned back to Chris, “Well, thanks for your confession, I think.”

Chris laughed, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

“Your gift is being obnoxious,” George replied, though his tone had softened now, the sharpness replaced with a reluctant smile.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, enough about that. Who’s next in Truth or Dare? Arthur?”

The next morning, Chris caught you both in the kitchen, you sat on the counter, leaning in to talk to George. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Well, well. Looks like my work here is done.”

George groaned. “Don’t start.”

But you just laughed, jumping off the counter to slip your arms around George’s waist, resting your head on his back.

[missfrustration]

sins and sacraments (priest!sanji x succubus!reader 18+ fanfic)

rating: rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, smut, dubcon, rough sex, fingering, priest!sanji, priest au, succubus au, priest kink, trashy as hell, power dynamics, power struggle, biting, scratching, cigarette burning, some blood, bondage, tears, succubus scent and poison, inaccurate catholicism, not so chivalrous sanji

A/n: This is genuinely the craziest shit I've written. dubcon to the max, dont like dont read!!! i drew some fanart for this, dont look at the hand proportions too hard. on ao3 here!

wc: 7.1k

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

This house in the hideaway stow of the county was one of your favorites to live in whenever you liked to find men from the area. Maybe it was the old-money interior and classic oak spaces that made it stick with you. Regardless, it’s always been the perfect place to lure your prey in.

That was until recently.

Some puny humans have ‘bought’ the thing since the last time you’ve left the area, and have destroyed the place beyond anything forgivable. It seems a mortal husband and wife is treating the house like it’s theirs , tearing up all the lovely decorations from older times into disgustingly awful palettes of teal and yellow. Treating your place with such little disregard, talking about how happy they are to get a house and raise their grandchildren within. 

You’re a succubus. Obviously, it’s not your style to haunt humans, much yet married couples—playing defense is unheard of for you—but after the first day that you surveyed them, it’s clear that they need to be taken care of. You certainly had some time on your hands, and enough strength from the last set of victims to kill them, but camping around and scaring them away instead was certainly a feat you were willing to challenge.

At first, it started with random things falling over, whenever they weren’t looking, you’d find a vase, a lamp, or even a grandfather clock, that would make enough noise when pushed to irk them. You eventually find out the wife really hates the bumps in the night whenever she is alone. One particular night while the husband was away, you made her so scared she fled to the bedroom and started shivering under blankets for days. The husband would wave his gun around when he suspected something, but they’d never find you fast enough.

They departed a week ago, only hastily packing a couple of suitcases before leaving. Finally, the whole house was abandoned yet again to your ownership. While it’s strange how they didn’t pack anything other than a few clothes and jewelry, the thought of it being anything other than a hasty runaway never occurred to you.

Those were your suspicions up until now. You were lounging around your reclaimed house, wearing one of the missus’s dresses and prancing near the large top-floor window when something caught your eye.

It’s a car from a meager wage that suddenly pulls up on the lot— your lot, the one you’ve put insurance in keeping empty the past couple of weeks—as you watch from the sanded window.

You saunter down the stairs, straightening the pleats of the dress’s yellow skirt, and feeling the role of the clothing’s owner when you open the door.

“Good evening, Father, how may I help you?”

A priest looks into your eyes, smiling so warmly at you. A familiar book in his hand, one with leather worn on the outskirts of the surface and worn on the spine. He wears a priest’s clock with a thick cincture wrapped around a cinched waist, a Roman collar, and a long skinny stole hanging down from around his neck.��

This dedicated man of God stands before your devilish domain, yet there’s certainly a need for you to act cordially. Maybe it’s a perverted sense in you to pretend to be an innocent housewife, but a change of pace in getting a new victim is always welcome.

“Father Sanji,” he smiled. “I’ve come on behalf of the church for the family of this house.”

“This is the family you're speaking to.” You say sweetly, clasping your hands together. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I've come upon request to remove a demon lurking in these walls, apparently one that’s been plaguing you since you moved in…” The father cocks his eyebrows at you, looking you up and down. “Surely you must know this?” He says, the smile never falters from his face. His words cause a perfect excuse to fall from your lips in gracious favor.

“Oh, why, of course. My husband loves to tell tall tales, no matter who he wraps up in after it. you’re free to look around, but I’m afraid you won’t find anything.” With a giggle and a twirl of your hand, you feel the posture of Father Sanji standing straighter.

“That's all the permission I needed, madam.”

You step back and open the door wide, allowing the man into your territory. He makes his way to the kitchen quickly when you offer him a cup of coffee. 

You’ve never made coffee–you wouldn’t have even found the stuff for it. However, you found it after whisking through a few cabinets with a stroke of luck. The canister labeled ‘ground beans’ had only enough sediment to cover the bottom of the tin.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Father Sanji asks you by the doorway of the kitchen.

“Usually, I would say no, but you're handsome enough that I’ll let it pass.”

A pause. 

“How nice of you.”

He retrieves a pack of cigarettes from his hand, one with a packaging exterior foreign to you. He ceremoniously shakes one before popping it out, taking a match from the matchbox across the kitchen stove, and flicking the flame until the end of the cigarette begins to cherry.

You fiddle with the kitchen’s chunky coffee machine while he’s distracted.

“I take it your husband isn’t home?”

“I’m afraid so,” You say, “he’s been out for business the past couple of weeks, and it’s been so lonely. I’m glad to have some… eye-catching company.” You leave a lingering whine on ‘company,’ eyeing the priest’s presence. He’s more attractive than the others, and certainly more thrilling if you wrap him around your finger just right; not to mention the power you would acquire from his body.

“Is that right…” He trails off. You busy yourself with the machine. In the corner of your eye, the father finds a tray for ash on the counter, flicking the dead end of his cigarette before puffing again.

You ignore his comment. As you finish your business with the coffee machine, you hear the water inside start to bubble. You turn towards him, idly leaning against the counter and arching your back. You meet eyes again.

“Are you sure you're a priest? You look far too handsome for the role.”

Sanji blushes, fidgeting with the buttons of his cloak before clearing his throat.

“I am indeed of the cloth, madam. It is the path that was laid before me.”

You hum to yourself, saying one of your most ill-suited thoughts out loud. “A handsome man like you is wasted on celibacy.”

You let the words on your tongue fall into the quiet air. The priest's demeanor doesn’t change; he stands still momentarily before reigniting his warm smile. 

“My beauty is merely a gift from God.” He pauses, looking out the window as he lets his cigarette burn on. “It's the same for all mortals, I would venture.”

He seemed to have added that last thought of his– a very strange thing to say, but priests of this era may be just that.

“If we think on that basis,” You hum, “Life is too short. Perhaps you should live a little.”

He pauses, eyeing you down conspicuously.

“Do you usually flirt with men when your husband’s not around?”

You hide a conniving smile. The coffee starts to brew.

“Depends, does it seem to be working?”

“I would be called a liar if I said no.” He says, absentmindedly blowing the smoke. Your smirk grows.

“Perhaps you should stick around, then.” 

You move closer to him, choosing to be in his intimate space as you search his body for cracks–for more hints you’ve gotten under his skin. You run your long, glossy nail from his chest to the seam of his Roman collar before Father Sanji grabs your wrist. You try to move to his neck, planning to scratch the tender flesh, but he gives you no room to do so. The force is unbecoming compared to his gentle voice. 

“I think I found what I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh? What would that be, Father?” 

He pulls you close, surprisingly gentle, enough to make his soft words clear. The kitchen is silent for a moment, enough to hear the gentle wind outside knock the leaves against the house.

“You wouldn’t happen to be that demon, would you?”

That gentle tone isn’t hiding any more secrets. A wry laugh escapes your lips.

“I didn’t know priests liked jokes so much; otherwise, I think I’d be offended.” You try to gently pry from his grasp, leaving much of your sultry voice to falter. A firmness in his grip doesn’t dissipate, rather, it seems to extend.

“Oh, my dear.” he takes your hand, threading the fingers together with his. “You know what I mean.”

His eyes. They tell you exactly what you need. In the hues of blue and gray flecks, there’s a glint of malice. His lids are low, his lips purse, and a bruising grip on your hand; he knows you’ve been deceiving him.

You yank your hands away with a vigorous strength that disconnects you two, turning your heel to get out of his clutches. However, he’s already behind you, pinning you against the teal counter hard enough to fold you over it. He’s a lot stronger than he looks.

Father Sanji sighs. “See, the family who requested my services by letter is out on vacation, something they had to plan rather hastily, strictly so I could perform the exorcism without additional guests. No one should be in the house except, well, you .”

He’s pinned your arm tight around your back, blowing a puff of smoke behind you. You don’t know if the act caused you to feel dizzy or something else, but you immediately feel uneasy in an instant.

“You may think you were so close to tricking me, but you should do your homework first. If you can’t even find coffee grounds in your family house, don’t offer answers you didn’t prepare for.” He chuckles.

So he saw through that, too. 

His soft laugh conjures one of your own. However, the tone colored in your voice is completely distinct from the proper one from earlier.

“Maybe you were feigning ignorance so well earlier, and I suppose I’ve been caught off guard. You certainly have a knack for faking someone so taken by me.” You say.

“It’s against the church to lie, my dear, and you truly are a dearie, so I would prefer for you to leave this house by choice rather than force.”

You cock your head at the last part.

“Force?” You mull over, rather surprised at his little bluff. “I love a challenge; the pain tastes of a sweeter victory.” 

“I see. It seems I’ll need to be more physical than I would’ve liked.”

“Oh, you want to dance with death that bad ?” You utter softly at the priest. “I don’t think a mortal like you can play with me .”

“Give me your other arm.”

“Like I’d obey you.” You spit.

“So be it, demon.”

You saw the signs he had something up his sleeve before you can react. Suddenly, you feel a searing hot pain in your back, burning past the cloth of your dress, spreading like wildfire throughout your nerves. An agonized bellow came with the disorientation that followed. You try not to make the sound of pain, yet a very unfeminine grunt leaves you in your wake. In the heat of your agony, Sanji takes your arm and cranks it behind you. 

“Did, did you just fucking burn me?” You grunt.

“How rude of me. It seems that a bit of cigarette ash fell off. Some that may also contain-“

“Ugh, that wretched stuff!” You grunt. The inside of your throat felt like a husk and your head felt lighter. “Don’t think you can pull your little game off with your church’s backhand trickery.”

“Palo Santo-infused smoke, but yes.” He deadpans, now securing both wrists behind you. “Now, hold still.”

“As if I’d-!” Before you can move, your wrists strongly bind together. Sanji’s hands fly from your arms to your head, slamming it down on the counter. 

“Relax, doll, you don’t stand against rosary beads for a while; the papacy recently blessed them before I got here,” the priest says, tapping the restraint on your wrist. “Now, isn’t this a sight?”

You grunt into the ugly teal marble counter, feeling your pretty body squish into the filth. Is this the stuff humans call luxury? Such degradation of an illustrious spirit like you is unnatural from your male targets—no, unheard of. You crank your head to look at him and see Father Sanji’s face burning his eyes back on you. His palm presses down your head, cheek smushing it into the cool tile. 

“This is funny to you?” You rasp at him. “Watching me in pain is entertainment?”

“Absolutely not. This, however?” Sanji points to your now-discovered tail with a smug expression, exposed from the hem of your dress and whipping wildly in the air. “I see that I’ve made an impression.”

“What, that some flakey preacher thinks he has the upper hand?”

“Oh, no. That’s not it at all.” Father Sanji’s tone feels as pleased, almost lighthearted by your exasperation, as he watches your pointed tail strike the air like wildfire. “You love this, don’t you?”

“You must be out of your damned mind, puny lamb.”

“Let me show you what I see.” You feel a firm grasp on your hair, now pulling you back to Sanji as you feel pain aching from the crown of your head. Father Sanji has no time to soften the pressure, pulling your body back to his, yet…

“F-fuck, mmm .” The pain hits you just right. You’re surprised by the whimper coming out of your mouth, from the pain, from his assertive clutch on your hair, and the way he’s lifted half of your body with ease.

“You see? There’s a dirty little devil in here, and she doesn’t seem threatened by me at all.” Father Sanji says this with audible satisfaction in his voice, almost taunting. He took a moment to take a long, crackly exhale of his cigarette. Another puff of smoke is blowing your way, his face so close to your nape that you feel sickened by it. ”Moreso, ready to be defiled .”

Suddenly, his attitude makes sense.

“Oh, so the vile preacher does know what type of demon I am?”

“How could I be called a messenger of the Lord if I don’t know the hysterics of a succubus?”

He’s toying with you. So conniving for the plain church.

“And you think you can just dominate a demon of the night? What a naive thing. You’ll lose your life trying.” You growl. 

“Don’t get too cocky.” 

He flicks more ash on your tail, causing you to screech and writhe. He uses the opportunity to take it in his hand, wrapping it around in his hands before pulling it back. It flails down and now limps under you. In a panic, you try to move it, yet it’s no use. You don’t feel in control of it anymore; sensation is barely left in it.

“While it’s true your kind gets their power from preying on their male targets, I wonder…” He leans so close that his lips touch your ear. “What would happen if the predator was preyed on, hm?”

With sudden force, you feel teeth bite on the tip of your ear. Hard . The sudden force causes your breath to hitch in euphoria and makes your voice pitch dangerously high. When you realize what he’s done, you writhe against him, yet the hold on your body makes the effort futile. 

“Ahh! Please, you honestly don’t believe a little human like you could please a succubus at their own game?” You scoff, yet the hands that hold you don’t falter. Instead, they grip you harder , smushing your face further against the marble.

“Is that a challenge? Even when I know your dirty secret…desperate to finish me off first to keep your powers. But,” he trails off, “if you were to be pleased first, maybe you wouldn’t be so lucky, hm?” 

No, there’s no way he knows. He couldn’t possibly know.

“You fucking bastard,” you start to struggle more against his grasp. “Release me this instant.”

“Oh, so is it who gets off first?” He asks, and you freeze. Your response is enough of an answer for him, and you hear a content chuckle from behind you. “And here I was just guessing.”

“How the fuck do you—?” You seethed. 

“Language.”

Your back writhes as you feel a burning sensation pressing against your shoulder once again. It graces your flesh fast, and more painful than ever.

“The church educates us after indoctrination,” the priest answers your question. “Ah, but not this part.”

Your skin sears with a hiss as he twists the cigarette below your shoulder blade. The sensation is almost intoxicating, searing through the dress and flooding your body with fiery heat, like a blazing aurora. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth while your head becomes dizzy, but a tongue that feels compelled to let out a string of curses, ones that increase consumption of your flesh. 

And the priest chuckles at this, while you wildly fight against the restraints he’s put on you. 

“You must learn to control your tongue,” he says, his voice smooth like honey. “You’ve been around for a while, little imp, but I can tell you’ve never faced an actual threat. You could go left and right seducing all the men you want, but you’ve never faced a man of God.”

You don’t even hear him. You don’t want to. Even after the initial sear has subsided, the sharp pain lingered, traveling down your back in a dull ache. 

“Men of God inflict pain like this? Please,” you spit. “Is this truly what your god wants, or is that just a flimsy excuse?”

“Ah ah. You don’t need to do that. This is what you’re all about, is it not? Why don’t you give in,” Father Sanji leans in to whisper in your ear, “and let a man make you tremble instead?”

You feel the cool air hit the back of your thighs as your dress skirt yanks up, revealing your naked flesh underneath. 

“One that will treat you so well.” He doesn’t sound surprised to see you donning anything underneath that skirt.

Fury pulses through you. If some human spawn thinks he can get away with this, he’ll be sure to regret it. 

You found your opportunity. His body was close enough to your back and bounded claws, and you wasted no time scratching him, successfully taking a bit of flesh with it. He hisses sharply and pulls back his arm before you can do more damage.

“Little thing,” he grunts, seeing the blood drip slowly seeping outside the skin and down his forearm. “I know what you just did.”

You cackle with a voice nothing like the one you first spoke to him. It’s more real, more raw, and certainly fitting for who you truly are. You barely notice the painful beads tightening around your hands, consumed by your gratification.

“Oh, it’s nothing special, just a push for you to finish what you started.”

You know even the strongest human men are no match for you after a simple scratch from your poisoned nails. A man once wary of your advances, fearful of committing adultery, always falls to his knees—completely blinded by their passion and lust for a succubus. You know Sanji is feeling the same effects behind you, so it’s surprising the aura he carries feels almost unaffected .

“It’s not a challenge when I was going to in the first place,” his thigh dips between yours, so achingly slow to press against your mound you felt compelled to rip him to shreds, yet the quiver in your plump legs don’t go unnoticed by the Father.

“Let’s see how long the stuffy priest can resist a battle of endurance. I’ll have you dead, drained of your lifeforce, before you know.” 

Your neck is craned to see him from behind you, and you see the sight of the handsome blonde sour at your words. Father Sanji gives an experimental, sensual rub of your pussy with his leg muscle, almost testing the waters, yet the stimulation to your pussy is instantly slicking it.

“Your ego precedes you,” The priest grunts, rolling his shoulders back and forth to rid himself of a growing frustration. “Your kind could easily kill a man like me, but you choose the path of lust instead to satiate your hunger.”

When he dives his digits into your pussylips, you can feel how effortlessly your slick eliminates any friction. His fingers easily glide up and down your apex until he breaks past the soft, juicy barriers between your entrance. The rough, warm interior greets his fingers with gusto, pulsing around him like a vice. 

“You could’ve cut my head off when you answered the door, or when you lured me into this kitchen,” The priest says, spending no time roughly pumping his fingers into you, thrusting in and out of your slicked hole. “But instead, you want a worldly experience with me? To take my life force and watch me crumble with glee?”

“I can play along with this if you’d like.” You laugh, turning your neck to see his stoic position. You sweeten your voice, fumble your hands against the restraints, as you fake moan against the marble, mocking his energy.

The sound of his moistened palm smacking against your cunt is deliciously filling the room. Maybe from a bumbling idiot, you wouldn’t feel gratified, but from prey as special as him? With deft hands like that, a few burns from that cigarette must’ve damaged your head more than you thought. 

“You like it, enough, I see,” Sanji says, pointing at the emergence of your identity resting on the sides of your head.

Yes, the mark of your heritage. When the dance of lust befalls you, your true form seems to come out. To the curve of your hips plumping in size, the hardness of your nipples rubbing the marble table, but above all, the rouge, the rough indentation of horns sprouting past your skull and making their appearance. 

You whistle lowly, mocking a false interest.

“Oh, is that supposed to humble me?” You say, voice dripping with disdain. “Think just some foreplay will make me cum like a virgin?”

“Do you think you’re still in control in this situation, demon?” He husks.

“It won’t take long, I would argue,” you drawl. “For you to beg for me, lamb. For my body, my touch, for the sweetness, and tightness of my insides. You’ll worship me like a devoted man you are.” 

Your charming voice exhales out, and a sickly sweet scent from your body follows it. One filled with frankincense and amber tones—the scent that brings men to their knees in pleasure. It’s a tactic you pride yourself in as a succubus, one you’re certain will work on him without fail, drawing him irresistibly closer to your body.

His face scrunches up at the last part of your sentence. His gray, pinpoint eyes are focused on your body, taking in your form in its new appearance, smelling the scent. All at once he grips your sides, flipping your body around with reckless abandon. Your back hits the marble forcefully, your wrist painfully colliding before it’s pinned behind. A noise of both aggravation and intrigue releases from your body as you arch yourself. You try to push past the unsavory noise you made, but never have you experienced such force from your prey. 

“I enjoy how hard you try despite your current position under me, but,” he states, but you can tell of a new lewd view before you with your body facing his. At the lower region of his priest's cloak, you see the indentation of his cock stirring against the fabric. “You will submit to me, temptress.” 

That’s when you see it. 

He sheds the skirting of his cloaks wrapped tightly by the long cotton belt cinched around his waist. Underneath, his erection springs out. 

Priest Sanji’s length may be too long for your vessel. God dammit, you’re not in control at this point to change that, yet you lick your lips in anticipation of a challenge. The conquest of dominating his body will reap rewards beyond your wildest desires. Your ability to gain such an influx of power from his life source, you wouldn’t need a dilapidated house like this. 

You can’t help but smirk, knowing full well that Sanji—his body— is just as impatient as you are. Your agitation about the situation is replaced with the feelings you know too well: the egotistical, maniacal form of lust that courses through your veins.

“That’s more like it.” You purr.

Against the power of a succubus, it seems even he can't resist the allure of your body. Be it the poison of your nails, your scent, or the worldly desires getting to him, his cock seems strained from arousal before you. He presses his erection on your wet apex, rubbing and lubricating himself. 

Priest Sanji’s rough entry makes your walls immediately succumb to him. You grunt from the stretch of your hole around his cock, but it doesn’t take long for you to adjust. You were made for this, after all.

“Feel how I fill you, seductress. Take it good, let me feel you flutter well,” he says. “This is just the beginning.”

You feel the urge to give in with his cock tight inside your sleeve, the urge to have him take you like a lass would her lover. Maybe you could enjoy yourself a little. How rare that this man spoke to you in a way that excited you beyond taking him for your meal. His dominating figure and treatment are beyond a sniveling adulterer.

“I didn't know a devil spawn could become so flushed.” He whispers lowly. Like a gravelly wisp, it is quickly replaced by his nails digging into the flesh of your thigh as he hikes the leg up to his face. 

Your limber legs split under his grasp with ease. The angle he’s pumping himself into creates an unknown sensation in you. The deepest parts of you fire up from being touched by him, and the insides of your vessel feel jumbled by the sheer size of his member. 

“Oh darling, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” you say. You lift your thighs using the weight of your hands pinned under you, bucking up to meet the base of his dick with each thrust, enveloping him deeper, yet deeper, inside of you. “I can show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams.” The delicious feeling makes your hands wriggle together, the beads etching deeper into your wrists.

“Blessed be thy lips that speak, doll,” the priest taunts, he sweeps your lip with his thumb in a smothering affection.

In annoyance, you bare your teeth, prepared to bite his finger, but instead, he shoves several down your throat, muffling any pretenses you had against his advances. His soft, firm fingers scrape against the ridges of your throat, urging you to gag, but you refuse to give him satisfaction.

Your teeth, tail, and nails could easily poison his flash again, even slash and crush him to ribbons, but injecting more of your lustful poison won’t speed up the process of his arousal taking over if he’s already been exposed. As for killing him…

No, killing him wouldn’t be worth it. Not with this challenge laid before you. The excitement of it. Maybe he’s not as uptight as you would’ve thought, but no mortal human man is a match for your sexual drive. No one has ever been.

You suck on his fingers, latching your mouth around the digits in deficiency, your eyes never leaving his. The priest’s wickedness falters slightly, replaced by something more flustered. His hand tenses, thumb curling to rest against the underside of your jaw, a tenderness juxtaposes his hard cock aggressively thrusting in and out of you. Your hips move together in your bliss.

Any thrusting prey graced within your body has always worked under their lust, their disgusting selfish desires to speed their climax—a decision that you ultimately win from. But this? This isn't the movement of a man chasing his pleasure, but one that wants to slowly unravel you at the core of your being. One who knows your intentions, yet gambles on his cock and body to do his bidding before a demon of the night. 

The priest’s hand snakes out of your mouth, and grips the fatness of your hips. He alternates his thrusts into shallow, gentle pecks into your core in reverent, pounding jackhammers on a dime. The pressure that differs between each thrust is dizzying, inconceivably unlike anything you’ve ever felt from squabbling and desperate prey in the past. His violent grip on you drives a relentless, random rhythm that has you gasping for air.

“Ahh, ahh!” Your hands grip in the air, for anything that will suppress your body from shrieking its pleasure. “Shit, fuck, ugh, hmph!” You don’t understand it when your mouth babbles in pleas and distasteful curses. Distasteful? Never would you have imagined your tongue and the curses it carries could be so repulsive. This damned priest.

“Speaking in tongues I see.” The priest says mockingly.

Maybe you should kill him.

You regain some of your dignity at his words, realizing how desperate for his cock you may seem. To settle the score, you relax your body, letting his dick pass into you until you clamp your pussy around him. Like a vice, you squeeze hard, just to follow it with a pulse of different pressures against his dick. You pursue it relentlessly, trying hard not to succumb to the beautiful bliss of nerves it stimulates while he starts to stutter at his pace.

“I never thought a priest would want to break his celibacy fucking a demon child.” You coo. “Myyy, hahhhh, how the church must be so ashamed of you.”

His face stills in his huffing, his hand coming up to his shoulder as he quickly plucks off the stole around his neck, slipping it off of him before he lifts it in front of you.

“Your unholy words describe this as a test of faith. Speaking as if you weren’t built to do anything but take this cock. This, however, is my calling to do,” as quickly as he finished his sentence, as he pounds his dick hard enough to distract you, you feel the stole wrap around, tightly constricting your mouth as he pulls the ends behind your head. 

You squirm in protest, muffled by the bitter, vile-tasting cloth. You wriggle violently, irritated that he’s muffled you like an animal.

“Uh, uh, be good for me now,” his voice is light and soft, but writhing when his breath touches your face. 

He presses a hand on your stomach as he leans forward to your face, making your leg bend against both chests, opening your pussy more for him. The pressure on his hand against your stomach tightens your walls, his shaft rubbing against them with divine presence. You could cough up the new intensity, yet he jackhammers into you again.

His purpose for leaning so close to your face, inches away from yours, wasn’t to study you with an irritating smolder. No, it’s always more than that. 

With a sudden jerk, you pull back from his hand yanking a horn on your head, the pain is exquisite, it’s dizzying, it’s fucking annoying, yet you squirm and whimper against the stole. Your neck turns at an uncomfortable angle, but you can’t think of the disrespect when he deliciously shoves his shaft into your walls. 

You’ve never felt humanity, yet when tears bull in the corner of your eyes from the pain in your horns, you feel disgusted by the smirk you get from Priest Sanji. 

“Come on, you can take it, little devil.” Closing the gap, he licks the tear that threatened to fall from the corner of your eye. You feel disgusted as he swallows your tears down in a sick satisfaction no priest would have. No priest should have, nothing that you could imagine, yet you hum in pleasure. Sickening is what you are.

You feel ravenous, you crave your reward too much to stop it, but your body screams to tip him over. In your wake of revenge, you gain enough feeling in your tail to move it underneath you.

Your tail catches him off guard, curling around the small of his waist to push him impossibly closer inside of you. You push and pull him faster, battling him at your own pace.

“Dirty,” is all he says, gripping onto your thighs to position them perfectly, giving you the instant gratitude of his cock head brushing into your cervix, reliving an itch that has never been scratched so well.

Oh, but he has more in store for you. 

He leans over your body, cocking his arms to your shoulder, gripping them harshly, and arching your hips more, until he’s not just brushing into the deepest spots inside you, he’s pounding them. But your body is made for this. he grunts, feeling the effects of his actions like clockwork as you tighten harden around his pulsing cock.

That’s when you hear that irritating voice again. Not berating you, not egging you on. No…

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

That sick bastard is speaking a prayer over your dick-ridden body.

You feel hands on your back. In a bruising clutch, your body twists around and your stomach hits the counter hard enough to leave you breathless. Your arms restrained behind you now gain blood flow. Though you’re unable to see your prey now, you can still hear the retched words spill out of his mouth.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” says the grunting priest. While he’s slapping in and out of you, he feels the need to pray to his stupid god. What a joke.

Father Sanji’s chest is against your back. His hand travels up to your blouse, a rip ringing out and buttons flying in the air as the top of your dress rips apart. Your back arches at the feeling, giving him the perfect opportunity.

“On earth as it is in heaven.”

You moan at the dominance, chest now exposed in the air. the frayed blouse of the dress now limps at your sides.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

A hand from behind reaches toward you and grips your breast with such force, gripping the mound like a knob. An intention to tear the succubus down to her bare necessities. For the first time, he gropes and explores your flesh against his digits; but it’s not for his pleasure. It’s for yours, to build you up higher as you take him in your tight sheath.

“For thine is the kingdom…”

Father Sanji’s voice falters in between his touches of your flesh, yet he doesn’t let go. He instead grips onto the flesh as he ruts his hips once again. You moan as he fondles your hardened nipples, gripping the mound with a brutish strength. Your legs splayed out.

“…and the power...”

You feel euphoric from the sensation, the slant of his hips rolling into you further than ever before. Your feet dangling in the air in ecstasy before latching onto him. You wrap your thighs around his middle along with your tail, hooking your feet together as you increase the pressure of your pussy, now pulling him so close he can barely pump out. His face contorts.

“…and the glory forever…”

You feel overpowered by his lust, edging to the brink of climax at an alarming rate, the pleasure is immeasurable, but you know it’s dangerous. 

One more scratch, one more, as you use enough of your strength to finally release yourself from your restraints, your nails so close to the flesh you can feel it. 

Until you feel a sudden pressure in your horns. 

Both his hands fly to your horns as you’re yanked back, your back tensed as all the slack is pulled to arch it at the most inhumane position that you find hard to breathe, to moan. The pain at the base of your horns aches through your head, and the priest cocks it back to your right to face him, your neck straining from the angle that you squeak, your mouth agape and suckling on the stole. 

Sanji is looking at you now, his wrinkles scrunching his face in pure agony and pleasure. The sweat was drenched on his face, a soft smile on his lips again, but with a dark glint he never had in the beginning.

In a swift motion, he rips the stole out of your mouth, and you’re ready to scream. You’re ready to devour him, to bite and suck his flesh, but he shuts up any thought you have by closing the distance first.

An open mouth kiss is taken from your lips. The priest seethes his tongue into you, as you feel a cool liquid pass from his lips into yours. Before you can sink your teeth into that wet tongue, you open your eyes and pull away as fast as you can. 

“S-shit!” the water burns the insides of your mouth and travels down your throat, clawing its way into you like a furious wave of flames. 

You’ve never known this horrible feeling, but you can tell what Sanji made you swallow. Holy water. The mix of the water and Palo Santo smoke lingering in his mouth travels into you.

“Amen.” Sanji grunts.

He cranks both of your legs further than before, past any stretch you reached before slamming his cock into your hole.

It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore. 

You feel your body crash into an intense, mind-numbing orgasm as you scream and claw at your throat. A shrill, high-pitched yell scratches out of you from the pain and pleasure, the leftover water that didn't travel down your throat sputters out in spats. Your cunt restricts around his member, as your body releases its cum, showering and squirting onto his cock, out of your hole, and dripping like a faucet onto the floor. One more pound into your weeping cunt, and Sanji pulls out of you both he grunts, fisting himself until semen spurts out of his dick. 

He’s pulled out and came right after you did. Not in your pussy, for his semen inside would’ve nourished you from this astounding pain.

You lost. You fucking lost! 

And there he stands, a blurry form in front of you, chest heaving, looming over you, but with that solemn, soft face. The same face he made when you opened that forsaken entrance to the home, those same silvery-blue eyes that fill you with rage.

“And, hack! and I thought I could have some real fun with you, you fucking pig!” you cough out. your mouth is welled up with blood as you feel indescribable torture in your body, a mix of cum and blood drips down the kitchen floor. You wipe your mouth, and in the cloudy film of your eyes, you see your hand covered in bright red, staining your palm.

“But no… you wanted to play— ack ,— the hero. I will, I will kill you… you know. Hah , ahhh… I-I’m going to fucking kill–!”

“Language.”

Your body is doused in scalding liquid. The coffee pot in the Father's hand is now empty. You hear the sizzle of it on your skin. You wail out, clutching your face, your neck, your stomach. the inside and out of you feel exposed to the inside of the sun, blazing through every atom as if it were tearing in half.

“You couldn’t resist me, in the end. Your ego kept you from killing me from the chute.” Priest Sanji says. “Ironic, to say the least, fallen one.”

You can barely fucking hear him. Your body writhes on the floor. Pain, it’s all you can feel in everything. 

Through the pain, you can hear Sanji’s words echoing in your mind. Your ego… it was that that kept you from killing him. You were so blindfolded by arrogance and conceit you couldn’t see the truth of the situation until it was too late.

“Now, you must leave at once demon.”

You howl like a banshee, getting up to attack him, but you can’t see. The sound of glass and plates breaks as your body slumps across the counters, searching for him through the blur.

No. You know now, despite his soft words, his truthful compliments, and the way he delighted your body, he’s the real demon. One so taunting, so deceiving, it fills your weak body with nothing but rage. But you can’t fight him now, you can barely stand. 

“F-fucking… bastard!”

With nothing else left for you to do, with his mere presence making your life force dangerously zap out of your vessel, you claw away on your four limbs, crashing against walls until you reach the exit of the home. 

You stumble out into the night, desperately gasping for breath and clutching at your chest’s faint heartbeat. Your body flees past the lot, past the yard’s grasses. The fear of him reaching you carries until the forest is only illuminated by the moon above.

You’re far weaker than you’ve been in ages, clearly on the brink of death unless your strength is built up again. By the looks of it, it won’t be another hundred, no, even a thousand flimsy men you victimize before you can cast revenge on the priest.

With a flick of your tail and limp in your dash, you’re quick to find your next meal to satiate a burning desire.

A desire to make that flakey priest drop dead the next time you lay eyes on him. 

[dissapointu]

Sevika with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

Appearance Headcanons

• Commanding Presence: Your appearance matches Sevika’s vibe—strong and striking, with a look that turns heads. Whether it’s the way you carry yourself or the sharp details in your style, you exude confidence.

• Edgy Style: You gravitate toward darker tones, leather, and utilitarian clothing that’s both practical and bold. You’re not afraid to accessorize with statement pieces like chunky jewelry or fingerless gloves that scream rebellion. Sevika finds your style magnetic and often comments on how you “wear power well.”

• Scars with Stories: If you have scars or visible signs of past struggles, Sevika is drawn to them. She respects the strength they represent and loves tracing her fingers over them during quiet moments.

• Eyes That See Through Her: Your gaze has a way of cutting straight through Sevika’s defenses. It’s part of what made her fall for you—someone who doesn’t flinch, even when facing her rough edges.

Personality Headcanons

• Resilient and Steadfast: You’re unshakable, with a grounded personality that balances Sevika’s occasional volatility. While others might fear her temper or her reputation, you meet her intensity head-on without hesitation.

• Loyal to a Fault: Just like Sevika, you’re fiercely loyal to those you care about. Whether it’s standing by her side in a fight or supporting her during her toughest moments, she knows she can count on you.

• Witty and Quick-Tongued: Your sharp sense of humor keeps Sevika on her toes. She secretly loves it when you roast her in front of others—though she’d never admit it outright.

• Compassionate, but Selective: While you’re tough on the outside, you have a softer side reserved for those who earn it. Sevika treasures being one of the few people who gets to see that side of you.

• Independent Yet Devoted: You’re not afraid to go your own way, and Sevika respects your independence. However, your bond with her is unshakable, and she knows you’ll always have her back.

Relationship Dynamics

• Mutual Respect: Both of you value strength and loyalty, creating a relationship built on unspoken understanding. You don’t need constant reassurances to know where you stand with each other.

• Protective Instincts: Sevika is fiercely protective, but she knows you can handle yourself. Still, she won’t hesitate to step in if she thinks someone’s pushing their luck.

• Late-Night Conversations: After a rough day, you’re the only one she’ll open up to. Sitting together with drinks in hand, you talk about everything from Silco’s plans to your shared dreams of carving out a life on your own terms.

• Silent Comforts: Sevika isn’t one for overly sappy words, but her actions speak volumes. Whether it’s draping her coat over your shoulders when it’s cold or pulling you into her lap after a long day, her affection is subtle but deeply meaningful.

• Playful Rivalry: You two love sparring—verbally or physically. Whether it’s teasing each other or testing your strength in a fight, the tension often leads to something much more heated.

Smutty Bits

• Dominance with a Soft Edge: Sevika takes control in the bedroom with a commanding presence, but there’s a tenderness in her touch that’s reserved just for you. She knows exactly when to push and when to hold back, making every moment unforgettable.

• Rough, but Attentive: She’s rough around the edges, and it shows in how she kisses you—intense, almost possessive. Her hands are firm as they roam your body, but she’s always hyper-aware of your reactions, adjusting to what drives you wild.

• Exploring Power Dynamics: There’s a playful push-and-pull between you. Sometimes, you challenge her dominance, and the resulting tension only adds to the passion. She secretly loves it when you fight back—just not enough to win.

• Smirking Satisfaction: Sevika takes pride in how easily she can unravel you. Whether it’s with her hands, her lips, or the teasing rumble of her voice, she’s endlessly smug about knowing exactly how to leave you breathless.

• Aftercare in Her Way: Once the heat dies down, Sevika’s softer side shines through. She’ll pull you close, her prosthetic arm wrapped protectively around you, while her other hand gently strokes your back. She might grumble about being “too soft,” but the warmth in her touch betrays her true feelings.

With Sevika, your relationship is a mix of raw passion, unwavering loyalty, and quiet understanding