#and straight up attack anyone who dares to try and fix it

[edelgarfield]

astarion fans are fucking wild, they've somehow turned liking a bunch of pixels into virtue signalling & go after anyone who dares to suggest their precious pookie bear isn't 100% perfect the way he's rendered in-game, nevermind that he isn't fucking real & he's literally a skin texture wrapped over a mannequin and believe it or not sometimes the game can fuck up & render things incorrectly & it looks weird/unnatural/uncanny and not liking that isn't somehow missing the point of his story or somehow disrespectful to people irl. he isn't fucking real. no one is being hurt by modding precious white boy #378 why don't you actually focus some of that energy on mods that are ACTUALLY harmful instead of attacking irl people who like your precious blorbo differently than you do.

[xxchumanixx]

Hii, are gonna do a part 2 of “doomed” where they get together?

Doomed pt. 3

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, hurt, angst, unspoken feelings, Grey raging Word count: 2.197 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! (I'm sorry it's so late!) Not a part 2, but a part 3 for you! Hope you'll like it anyways! Also, this isn't entirely proof read yet!

Enjoy!

Did he even breathe?

Looking at Tim through your peripheral, you knew he thought the same.

Grey was raging on, talking without breathing.

Soon he'd suffocate, you were sure of it. Luna would have a heart attack, when he would die because of you - because you were dumb enough to be caught by him.

It wasn't even your fault, really.

It was Tim's.

At least that's what you told yourself.

"And I will not be the one who will take the brunt when one of you dies, because you were too busy making love eyes to notice a threat!"

Maybe you should have just told him - at least that's what Grey thought to himself, as he yelled at one of his best officers and his rookie.

Who were sleeping with each other.

He mentally flinched, not wanting to think about it too deeply.

"You are responsible for her training!" he continued, pointing at Tim who had his hands at his sides, trying to just get past this.

He had never felt this uncomfortable in his life before - at least there wasn't much that compared to this situation.

"How do you think will others judge when they learn about your relationship? Do you think they will see her ratings fit? Or will they think you rated her better, because you-" he had to stop himself, or else it would have gotten out of hand - though you all knew, what he wanted to say.

Because you are sleeping with her.

Your career would be ruined, if the right people found out. No one would want you to work for them, never fully trusting you.

As the tears welled up in your eyes, you tried your best to suppress them.

Grey was right, and he had every right to be angry.

"This will have consequences!" he continued, finally taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself, for the sake of his heart.

His wife would have killed him, if he dared to have a heart attack - especially when she was currently trying to convince him to retire.

Maybe he should have.

"You will be replaced as her TO - that's the least I will have to do. Other than that, this conversation will never, and I mean never, leave this room. If anyone asks why you were replaced as her TO, you tell them that you don't know."

His eyes wandered from Tim to you, his head shaking in disappointment.

Never would he let you forget this day.

"I can't believe that this happened right under my nose and I didn't notice it." he spoke a little quieter, before his voice rose again. "And I would have never expected such behavior from you, of all people, Bradford!"

Tim swallowed, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. He didn't know what to say, guilt making his tongue heavy as lead.

Grey grumbled to himself, sitting down in his chair. He sighed in exhaustion, wiping over his face with his hand.

"I know I'll regret it later." he began, putting his head in his hand with his elbow on the armrest, as he looked up at you.

You two stood straight as sticks, and for a moment Grey had to smirk inwardly.

"Are you in a relationship or do you plan to be in one?" The same moment he voiced his question, he regretted it. His daughter would have probably told him how embarrassing he was.

Did he want to do the talk now, too?

Your eyes widened, looking at Tim in shock. His gaze was fixed somewhere behind Grey, jaw clenched.

It had been a few months now, since you regularly started to sleep with each other. You couldn't deny that you had become attached, having gathered feelings for him.

But did he feel the same?

Biting your cheek, you looked away.

Of course he wouldn't.

"Okay..." Grey mumbled, scratching his chin, as he leaned back in his chair. "I will still tell you what will await you anyway, in case you decide to be in a relationship somewhere in the future."

He shook himself inwardly, one eye twitching, as he tried to stay as professional as possible.

"I hardly advise you to work separate. Like I said, if one of you dies because you aren't focused on the task at hand, the other will pay the consequences. The LAPD doesn't like it, when two of their officers are in a relationship and in the same unit. It's a risk the intern doesn't want to take."

You simply nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat.

What other choice did you have anyway?

Grey nodded to himself, not happy his evening had been ruined. Luna would be furious if she knew how close he had been to having a heart attack.

"And now go home. Your shift is over, anyways."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, you nodded, heading out of the office. You had been lucky the blinds had been closed, otherwise the whole LAPD would have witnessed that conversation.

You didn't look at Tim, as you made your way to the locker room, biting back the emotions trying to take over.

The Mexican food you wanted to order at his place, would be cancelled now, your whole evening ruined.

You really should have looked better if anyone was near, before you talked about private things.

Seriously, how could you miss Grey?

He had seen how close you seemed, after parking the shop, Tim's hand almost brushing yours as he leaned closer to talk into your ear.

This one gesture had spoken more than a thousand words to him.

And it was exactly the reason, why Tim avoided to talk about his private life.

Or show it, for that matter.

But he had a moment of weakness, your flirtatious behavior over the day constantly turning him on.

He really should have known better.

His eyes scanned the parking lot for you, trying to make you out in the dark. He spotted your car, seeing that you weren't there yet, as he made his way over to it.

He decided to wait, fingers drumming on the strap of his backpack, as you left the station.

Fumbling for your keys, you didn't notice him at first, only when you almost stood in front of him.

Blinking a few times in confusion, your cheeks heated up. "What do you want?" you asked, inhaling shakily. "We should talk." he gave back, shifting his weight.

Brows furrowed, you looked at him. "If you want to end things, then just say it, Tim." you told him, trying to act nonchalant about it, even if your heart broke at the possibility of him ending whatever it was you two had.

"Wh- No!" he responded a little too fast, taking a step forward with his mouth agape. "I mean- If you want to end this, then I'll stay away from you."

Eyes widening, you felt how they burned from tears again. Of course you didn't want to end this.

Shaking your head, you told him exactly that.

"I don't want to end this." you spoke, taking a step forward as well, all the while feeling Grey's gaze burning holes in your back, even if he wasn't even near.

"But I don't think we should continue on like this. Grey is right, what we're doing is risky." you continued, sighing heavily. "We're jeopardizing our careers, risking to lose our jobs. Or at least risking our credibility and the trust they have in us. I think it's better, that he replaces you as my TO."

Your words struck something deep inside him, making him swallow. On one side he thought you were right - if he continued being your TO, though not able to keep his hands from you, your career would have been over, before it even started.

On the other hand, he feared that he'd lose you.

"If you want to keep this up, what do you mean we shouldn't continue on like this?" he wanted to know, the crease between his brows deepening.

"Are you breaking up?"

The words had left his lips, before he had a chance to properly think about it. His cheeks burned up, and he was thankful that you weren't able to see it in the dim light of the parking lot.

Your mouth opened, but you weren't able to utter a single word, only staring at him. Chuckling uneasily, you shook your head.

"Breaking up postulates there's something to break up." you told him, voice small. You didn't want him to see the heartbreak in your eyes, so you averted them.

"We're not together - there is nothing to break up."

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly way too dry. His heart seemed to be in an iron grip, pumping ice crystals through his veins.

He hated the way you said it, the way you sounded so broken.

"Grey is right." he muttered bitterly, nodding to himself, as he took a step backwards. Your eyes snapped back to his, following his movement.

"We shouldn't do this. The LAPD doesn't approve of it and we only risk our jobs. You're right, we shouldn't continue this."

He turned around and started to walk away, your heart breaking as he did. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt as if you couldn't breathe.

"Tim!" you called out, voice shaking, as you practically jumped after him, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking further away from you.

He stiffened, but didn't turn around. He only stopped, with your hand still on his arm. Inhaling shakily, you braced yourself for your next words.

"I don't want to break up." you softly spoke, one of the tears managing to free itself. Biting your lip, you shook your head. "I don't want to let you go - I can't."

He slowly turned around to you, giving you the chance to take your words back.

But you didn't.

Staring straight back at him, you stood your ground. That you were still at the almost empty parking lot, wasn't important anymore.

Neither were the people that could walk out of the station at any moment.

"If I have to do more tests, have another TO, then so be it. But I don't want to lose you, Tim."

More tears rolled down your cheeks, betraying your aching heart. Your emotions were on display for him to see, and you weren't planning on backing down.

He took a shaky breath, mouth slightly open. He didn't know what to say - hell, he wasn't even sure what you were trying to say. Had you fallen for him? As much as he had fallen for you?

"Hate me, abandon me, whatever you want." you told him, wet lips pressing together, head shaking. "But I can't act like I don't have feelings for you, any longer. Yes, it can cost us our jobs, or just mine, since you're one of the best officers here, but I'm willing to take that risk. Let Grey be angry, shout at us or transfer me when im a p2 - I don't care."

He was speechless, a rare sight.

Swallowing, he took a step closer. "What are you trying to say?" He had to know, had to hear it one more time, in case he had misunderstood you.

"I'm saying that I have feelings for you, that I have fallen in love with you, Tim." you brought over your shaking lips, heart racing as you were nervous how he would respond to your confession.

He huffed, amusement and relief hugging him like a warm blanket. Honestly, he hadn't known how he'd reacted, if you'd pushed him away for real.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you into his embrace, as he exhaled slowly. Hugging him back, your cheek rested on his chest, hearing his heart race.

"I have feelings for you, too." he confessed, smiling into your hair. "Fuck the LAPD and their opinion. I have the sergeant exam in my pocket, if they want to punish us, I'll find another station, maybe I'll even go to the metro."

You couldn't help but laugh quietly at him, knowing he'd do it.

"Go out with me." he spoke, looking down at you, after you separated, his hands on your upper arms.

Smiling, you sniffed, face still tear stained. "I'd love to." you agreed, nodding to underline your words. He smiled back, before his hand wrapped around your shoulder, walking you towards your car.

"Are we still getting Mexican tonight?" he asked, a smirk playing at his lips. Rolling your eyes, you nodded with a grin.

"I'll get us a table." he told you, sending you a wink, as you gaped at him, stopping at your car. "I know the owner."

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile. "Okay." He nodded, smiling right back.

As Tim told you he'd pick you up in an hour, Grey smiled to himself.

He'd been watching your interaction through a window, secretly happy about your smiling faces, as his wife caught him stalking you two, hitting his arm in warning.

"Wade!"

<- Part two

Tag List

@laheysfilm

@newobsessionweekly

[darkbluekies]

This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your ocs treat the reader if they were childhood friends. I’m super excited! Also can’t wait to see Jerry again ❤️

Warnings: violence, murder, unstable home life, bullying

Silas:

Being Silas's childhood friend guarantees you a bodyguard. He doesn't let anyone get close to you. You don't ever have to worry about the fact that anyone will bully you, because Silas will obliviate them. He's the type to let you lean on his shoulder in class whenever you feel tired. He will ditch school with you and go to the zoo if you want to.

People around you will try to separate the two of you. “Silas isn't a good influence”, they say, and doesn't want his behavioral problems to rub off on you, or for you to get in danger. There are speculations that Silas is involved in criminal gangs — and if someone asks you, you won't deny it. But Silas won't let anyone take you from him, won't let anyone touch you. You always have his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, always claimed by him.

“I'm going to bash that kid's skull in, I'm not fucking joking. If they dare to to touch you — no — if he as much as breathe near you, I'll send them to the nurses office. Lean your head on me, Y/N, its okay. Does your hand still hurt? I cant believe that he fucking stepped on it. It doesn't matter if it was a mistake. I'll cut his off.”

Dr Kry:

There is something off about him, and everyone can see that. He sits back straight, hands together, and always in clean, ironed clothes. His hair is always brushed and fixed, he hates germs and people. And he hates it all, he really does. The only friend he has, is you. The only one he doesn't think is dirty, is you. You know that the reason he sits and talks like a robot is because of how strict his parents are. There has been multiple times where he has dirtied his clothes while playing with you, and has panicked. You help him clean them before going home, and when touching him you make sure to wipe your hands with a cloth — even if you know that he doesn't mind your germs. You know how he doesn't like to be touched, so you never hug him or linger on too long, which is just why Kry likes you so much.

You are the only one who knows about his author's dreams. His parents want him to become a doctor, or a lawyer, and you know he's interested in medicine, but he wants to be able to write. He wants to write sci-fi stories, and you are the only one that knows it.

You get teased by others for being with the “clean freak” but it doesn't bother you. However, it does bother Kry. After someone has been mean to you, they always end up in the hospital, one way or another. You can't help but wonder if it's your shy, sweet friend who's behind it.

“I like having picnics with you. Oh, you forgot the other fork? No, don't apologize, I understand that it was a mistake. We can share a fork, I'm okay. Yes, it's fine, I don't mind … you're so nice, wiping the fork for me, you don't have to do that ...”

King Edmund:

If you are Edmund’s friend while he's the crown prince, you need a lot of patience. He is spoiled rotten, entitled and unpleasant to be around. Everything is on his terms. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't value you. He is locked in his room day in and day out with a private tutor, completely isolated from everyone else. He will throw fits and threaten not to do his classes, unless he is allowed to play with you. So, they bring you to the castle where you get to live from now on.

Edmund absolutely loves to spend time with you. You ride horses together, torment the staff, play pranks and read. When he can't sleep, he walks into your room and crawls under the sheets.

You're with him when his parents are murdered. Edmund's first instinct when the castle is attacked is to run to your room, wake you up and hide the two of you. He is equipped with a sword and will protect you to the last moments.

Although the two of you are isolated, there are people in the staff making fun of you, or talking bad. Edmund doesn't even hide the fact that he orders for their deaths.

“I fucking hate classes, and I hate that tutor. It's so boring. I wish you could take the classes with me, it'd be so much more fun. After class, can't we do something? Can't we go down to the fountain and read? I want you to read for me. You're the only one that reads the story right, that does them justice. Everyone else sounds like fucking donkeys.”

Jerry:

Jerry goes to an all girls school in South Korea. You don't go to the same school — which is probably for the best. Jerry is the leader of her little gang, and they are notorious for their bullying. She is a bully for fun, but won't allow any of her friends to make fun of you. If they do, she will ruin their lives. You do know about her life outside the school though, you have been with her when she steals from stores (often makeup stores). You often meet her after school and go to the mall or amusement parks together. She's a very sweet person to be around when it's just the two of you.

You're friends with her before she starts to call herself ‘Jerry’ — when she's still ‘Yubin’. She had seen the name in a TV series and liked the character. She says that she is going to move to the US, and then she wanted an english name.

You're often with Jerry's friend group on weekend nights, often strolling around the town with alcohol and cigarettes, sometimes breaking stuff. Jerry makes sure that if they're ever caught, her and you slip away. She finds it all extremely exciting.

Jerry escapes to you when she gets to know that her parents (and perhaps sister if i want to give her one) have been murdered by a rival, when she has involved herself in criminal activities for real. It's the first time you get to see Jerry break down. She's in your arms, crying heavily, admitting how scared she is and how much she misses her parents. She loves her family, and now there is nothing left of it. She says that she died that day, and that whoever is inhabiting her body now is a fraction of who she once was.

“You're such a fresh wind from that fucking girl school. Why do I have to go there? Why am I not allowed to join a coed school? What? Why my nails have blood under them? No, I didn't get into a fight again. I didn't. I promise. Get up, let's go get sushi, I'm starving.”

Hedwig:

If you're a childhood friend of Hedwig, you're basically a family member. You go on her family's expensive vacations, just because Hedwig doesn't want to be alone.

You play every day and go through all stages of life together. Hedwig has always been the sweetest human you've ever known, and it surprises you when you see her angry. The many, many years you've been friends, you've only seen her angry a handful of times. You go to summer camps together, share beds, share everything. Teachers ask for the other when one is gone (which is rare).

Being childhood friends with Hedwig would most likely end in romance at one time, so she would win without having to do anything harsh. But if you started developing crushes other than Hedwig before, she would ruin their reputation until you wouldn't want to look at them anymore, but no one would know that it was Hedwig.

Hedwig has always been very popular, both for her money and looks, and by default, you've been too because you're her best friend. Hedwig likes to see how nice everyone is to you, because they know better than to upset you. No one wants to get out of the magical bubble that is Hedwig’s popularity.

“We will be friends forever, won't we? I don't think I could live without you, Y/N. You're the other half of my soul. If I don't have you nearby, I can't breathe.”

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hello i just discovered your blog and i love it but may i request an MC who was a child of a brutally war and had like 3-5 younger siblings who died in the war and one day when they are walking around a pure-blood said something along the lines of "OH their Siblings deserved to die" and MC just losses it and straights up punch the pure-blood in the face and knocking them out, how would the HCL +Professor's react to mc in that situation? (Btw I'm sorry if this is a too sensitive topic u don't have to write it if u don't want to, XOXO have a good day or night)

A/N: not to worry, that's what the warnings are for.

HLC REACT TO MC PUNCHING A BULLY

WARNING: MC has PTSD, terrorism, blood racism, hurt/comfort

It was less of a war and more of a massacre. The slaying of muggleborns in the 1885 attack was terroristic and unjust. MC was the only survivor of their family. Their siblings were gone. All that was left was the screaming in MC's head. The screaming that kept them up at night. The screaming that told them to run....to hide...

The pure blood student laid on the floor, holding his nose. Blood poured out as the student whined. MC stood over them, fists clenched. MC's knuckles were already bruising from the force of the hit. Their breathing was fast and irregular. Their eyes were wide and blank, they seemed a thousand miles away.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He'd never seen MC move so fast. Before he could tell the instigator off himself, MC threw themselves at them and punched with enough force to break bricks. He doesn't realize the state MC's in at first, laughing and jeering at the bleeding bully.

Until he notices MC isn't laughing with him. They're strangely quiet. Shaking. He hears a Professor coming and he steers MC away from the scene. "MC? What's going on with you? ..MC?" He gets a closer look at their face and sees silent tears flowing from their wide eyes. He's seen this face before, on Anne after they found their parents dead.

He takes MC's good hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "MC. Come back to me. Come back to now. The pain is in the past, don't let it halt your future." He gently talks MC down from their episode and stays with them until they insist they're fine. Even then, he's hard to get rid of.

OMINIS GAUNT: He swears he heard bons breaking when MC's fist collided with the bully. He knew a staff member wouldn't be far away from the commotion and he immediately dragged MC away. "You shouldn't have resorted to physical violence. What that bastard said wasn't acceptable, but now you could be facing detention or worse! That sort of behavior is brutish! Just jinx them like anyone else, at the very least. ..MC?"

He'd just realized MC wasn't talking, not even trying to defend their actions. "MC..? I need you to talk to me. What's going on?" Silence. MC was as still as a statue. Their hand was clammy in his. "What they said....there's more to it, isn't there?" He didn't know the full story, but MC's silence was too loud to ignore.

He takes them to the undercroft to recover in peace and talk to them privately about what really happened.

ANNE SALLOW: She had her wand out but MC's fist was faster. "That's exactly what you deserve!" She huffs and grabs MC's good hand. "Let's go, before staff show up." She walks with them a while before asking about their hand. "Are you alright? You hit them pretty hard." She examines MC's hand. It was heavily bruised and possibly broken, but nothing a healing potion wouldn't fix.

She looks into MC's eyes and they seem to look through her. "MC? MC, it's alright. You're alright. You don't have to fight anymore. The danger has passed." She speaks soothingly until they seem themselves again. She hugs them if they let her. She has the strongest urge to comfort and cuddle.

IMELDA REYES: She sees red. How. Fucking. DARE they! MC swings once but she keeps the pain train rolling. She kicks them in the ribs. She curb stomps their stomach. She pushes them down the nearest flight of stairs and spits in their direction as they roll away.

It takes more than a minute for her to calm down and realize MC hadn't moved or said anything. "Hey...you good?" She's still breathing heavily from the adrenaline. "Let's get out of here." She gets them out to the flying lawn and pulls out her broom. "You going to use yours?" MC complied and pulled out theirs but still hasn't said anything or changed their blank expression.

"Follow me." She leads them to a high cliff away from the castle and the noise. "This is where I come to think...or scream. You look like you could do both right about now."

NATSAI ONAI: She uses depulso without her wand and the bully slides across the floor far away from them. She looks at MC with great concern. "You don't look so good. I have never seen you attack someone like that, even over pure blood nonsense. What was it they said that got to you?"

MC's tears come and it breaks her heart. MC was hurting in a bad way, she could see it in their eyes. "You were there, weren't you? This attack they mentioned." MC breaks into sobs and their knees give out. She catches them before they hit the floor and holds them close. "I am here. I am here, MC. I will not let anyone hurt you. Never again."

GARRETH WEASLEY: His eye twitches and he has to hold back the urge to bring out his wand. He couldn't curse the bully without risk, but he could do something. He drops a small green bottle on the bully's lap. "Here. It'll clear up the nose bleed. Come on, MC." He, somewhat forcefully, pushes MC away and leads them around the corner.

He smiles to himself when screams echoed down the corridor. The boils the potion gave the bully would last for weeks and be horrifically painful. "Got exactly what was coming. What does that git think he's trying to prove? Many purebloods are accepting of muggleborns. The terrorist attack all those years ago was a small extremist group and they're ALL in Azkaban or dead."

He talks and talks and talks, going off on tangents and eventually forgetting what he started talking about. It's not that he never noticed MC having a hard time, he just thought if he could distract them from it instead of drawing attention to it, he would be of more help.

AMIT THAKKAR: He's so shocked by what the bully said that he doesn't even process MC punching the daylights out of them. He just watches the bully writhe in pain on the ground. He's as still and silent as MC. Both processing what just happened.

LEANDER PREWETT: "Levioso! Descendo!" His magic throws the bully helplessly into the air and then slams them back down. They'd be lucky if they didn't have multiple broken bones. He pockets his wand and takes MC's hand. "Come on."

He takes them outside for some air. MC's outburst then sudden silence was unnerving him. "What happened in there?" He asked calmly. "He mentioned siblings of yours? Was he taking the mick or...?" His unfinished sentence hing in the air between them.

MC finally focused on him, years starting to stream down their cheeks. He could see it in their eyes, real pain. The kind of pain that makes you shut down. He doesn't know what to do so he holds their good hand and looks back into their eyes. "You're going to be alright."

"Maybe we should go..." He eventually says and he starts to walk away. MC follows and they walk in silence all the way up the astronomy tower. In the clear and cool air, they take a simultaneous deep breath. "People are rotting no matter where you go. Be it skin or blood or belief. The human superiority complex never ceases to disgust. At the very least, know that you have a friend in me, MC. I'm with you."

EVERETT CLOPTON: He throws a fogging dung bomb and he and MC escape the commotion. "Good on ya for putting that twat in his place! If you ask me, you should have just cursed them, but a punch will do." He laughs as he takes MC to a more secluded corridor.

He doesn't realize MC isn't okay until he tries to give them another one of his special dung bombs "for emergencies". Their blank expression first leads him to think they don't like the dung bombs, but when he takes a closer look at their eyes... "Oh...oh Merlin, MC, I'm sorry. I thought they were lying. Your siblings...that's why you...oh..." He awkwardly puts away the bombs and holds out his arms. "Come here, let me make it better."

POPPY SWEETING: "You really showed them. How dare they say such a thing! How horrible of a person do you have to be to believe muggleborns deserve death? Honestly! I can't even imagine what their parents are like." She spits in the bully's general direction and stands with MC as the bully slowly gets up and runs off.

"They're probably going to tell a teacher. Don't worry, I'll be your alibi. They tripped." She smirks and nudges MC with her elbow. She frowns when they don't react. "MC? Hello? Hey!" She waves her hand in front of MC and she gets more worried when MC still doesn't react.

She calms down and takes the time to examine MC's body language. Treating them like a stunned beast, she speaks softly and reassures MC that everything is okay.

[ririsasy]

Sit on my lap [part 2]🔞✋

Part 1

Varadha wasn't really actually in a gang, it was just his group of friends. They ditched Varadha with Deva the other night because they're too scared of Deva to even ask for their friend back from the clutch of a wolf like him. They have heard about Deva's reputation and know that Deva is a gang leader and he's ruthless! He breaks people's bones left and right if they dared to cross him.

They thought that was the end of Varadha after he throw up on Deva! What was he thinking doing something so unthinkable like that.

Varadha quickly left Deva's house in a taxi after he get dressed in hurry with his own washed clothes. He went straight to Rinda's house to curse at him for being such an unreliable friend leaving him with a stranger like that. Rinda explained to him that Deva wasn't an ordinary stranger and from now on they should be avoiding that club with all costs if they wanted to stay alive.

But then a week after the event Deva and Varadha met again accidentally, this time Varadha's group yet again got into a fight but with other people and Deva happened to pass by. Deva didn't even think about getting involved in the first place but the attackers suddenly pulling out knives, so Deva had to step up before anyone got badly injure. It was just like another monday for Deva, he easily can avoid the attack going his way and broke the attacker' arms to make them drop the knives, true to his reputation as bone snappers, they scattered away after that holding their broken hands.

Varadha's friends look at Deva in fear but also thankful of his intervention, but they didn't dare to say anything to Deva, so they push Varadha as their humble sacrifice to go talk to the wolf.

"...Thank you for helping us." Varadha said reluctantly.

"..why you guys always got into a fight you can not win?" Deva asked while fixing his leather jacket that got ruined from the fight.

"We didn't search for trouble but when it came to us we didn't back down!" Varadha quickly shout back trying to defend his group.

"Whatever, next time pick someone your size or you will be bleeding on the street." Deva said while looking at Varadha from head to toe, appreciating the see through white shirt that leave little to imagination.

"Yeah yeah we will make sure we never have to bother you or show our faces in front of you to cause you an inconvenience. What should I do to repay for the trouble?" Varadha asked while rolling his eyes because this man is so high on himself.

"Still the same thing I told you when you were in my place, get on my lap and give me a kiss." Deva teased him again patting his own inner thigh, delighted at the fast spreading blush on Varadha's cheeks.

"You pervert old man!!" Varadha shouted at his face and then run toward his friends and pulled them away from Deva who couldn't stop laughing at Varadha's adorable reaction.

Varadha's friends only nod at Deva's direction and making a thankful gesture with their hands as Varadha keep dragging them far away from Deva.

.

.

"So, you and Deva huh?" Rinda, one of Varadha's friends started teasing him as they order their drink at a nearby cafe after they run away from Deva.

"No such thing!" Varadha dismissed the accusation quickly, he shivered just by the thought alone that there was something between him and the insufferable man.

"But he said there was something happening at his place? "Same thing I told you when you were in my place" quote unquote that was what he said. Wasn't it?" Rinda still didn't want to let it go.

"As you heard! It was just his wish, nothing happening, no way I will like such an arrogant bastard so full of himself like that. But aren't we all trying to stay away from him for the past few days now? Why are you showing interest at him now?" Varadha squinted his eyes at Rinda's direction in suspicion.

"Nothing like that. It's just he helped us just a moment ago! So he wasn't actually that bad? Imagine if we are on his good side we don't need to be worried anymore about people pushing us around. " Rinda trying to give reason to Varadha.

"So what now? You want to join his gang or something? Go a head! I don't want to do anything with him. Enough talking about him, my headache can't handle it anymore. Tonight we still go to that new place that you found right? I really need to unwind. Especially after what happened today." Varadha said with a sour mood.

"Yeah yeah, same time as plan, you, Bilal will join us or not?"

"Hard pass. I rather sleep after I got the most of the beating before your knight in shining armor came to our rescue. Good rest will do wonderful thing to my bones." Bilal said waving his hand in front of his friends, he sometimes feel like he is too old for all of this escapades.

"Your lost! We're going disco tonight, gonna wear all the obnoxious outfits we have right varadha? Bring out that slutty red jeans with red flower shirts you have to seduce some prey."

"Totally, gonna make sure I got laid tonight no matter what." Varadha said with conviction, Bilal could only shake his head at his friends' terrible, somehow he feels like something unexpected is bound to happen.

.

.

Bilal is perhaps a psychic because here comes the trouble.

Varadha was asking for his third drink to the bartender after he was exhausted from dancing on the dance floor not caring about anything in the world, his chest peaking from his barely buttoned silky red shirst glints with sweats from his previous activity, his hair sticky just the same, but he didn't care he at least could free himself from Deva's images that's been occupying his mind.

He was looking at Rinda who still dance on the floor with girls glued to him from all side, Varadha chuckled at his carefree dance that didn't even match with the rhythm of the music. He looked back again at the bartender thinking he had served him his drink only for the bartender to gesture him at the faraway table at the corner of the room, it's luminous with yellow light, even half drunk Varadha could easily spot the tall figure sitting there.

Shit, it's Deva.

"That's the owner of this club, he said, your drink is free, he would appreciate if you can thank him in person." The bartender pushed the drink toward Varadha with the tip of his fingers.

Varadha is not flattered, he's indeed furious, why is this man couldn't leave him alone at all, why he is everywhere, and why the hell this club belong to him? Varadha was just enjoying his time and actually like the atmosphere of this club and the drink actually taste good here and not like piss, he was just about to put this on the list of the club he would like to revisit and now he didn't know anymore.

He gulped down the drink in one shot, wiped his mouth haphazardly with the back his hand and stomped his feet toward Deva's place.

Looking at Varadha's arrival, Deva dismissed his companions, most of them just sexy girls who pour drink for him and light his cigarette, Varadha step aside as the last girl who sit on Deva's lap stand up and make her exit as well brushing the side of his shoulder. Varadha tried to ignore the increasing hot feeling in the pit of his stomach, he didn't know where it came from, he refused to admit that he was jealous from what he just saw, there's nothing going on between him and Deva at all, why did he need to be angry?

"What do you want now? I didn't know this is your club, I will leave." Varadha finally said, after it's just the two of them left. Deva only look at him curiously, like he is inspecting a product, puffing his cigarette and then holding it between his two long fingers. He rest his clasped hands under his chin.

"It was you who decided to not meet me again but fate said otherwise, you came to my den perfectly on you own accord, here you are standing in front of me, looking like that, like an offering, can you just quench my curiosity and be done with it." Deva asked like he was bargaining something he could pay, Varadha is so frustrated by a man with no manner like this and yet he feel intrigued and saw it like a challenge.

"What's your curiosity? What can I do so fate would tear us a part so we don't have to meet again?" Varadha asked with fire in his eyes.

"Same thing, come here, sit on my lap and give me a kiss." Deva took another drag from his cigarette, adjusting his sitting position, spreading his legs wider and pat his lap, looking at Varadha with blatant want.

Varadha wanted to jump at him, not because he like this man not at all but because he just want to slap that confidence off of his handsome face.

"What with you and your childish game?" Varadha asked Deva from between his gritted teeth, he was so furious that he couldn't control himself and grabbed Deva's collar ready to throw a punch.

Deva didn't even flinch, he just looked at Varadha with his piercing eyes up close, inspecting him some more, puffing the smoke on his face, Varadha close his eyes immediately, trying not to cough at the smoke onslaught to his sense.

"It's not a game to me, just sit here, after all, you already scared my companions for the night because of the fury in your eyes, but up close, I can see how long those eyelashes are, it would be even prettier if there's something else in your eyes rather than anger when you look at me."

"You are drunk and you don't even know what you're saying" Varadha whispered the words now they're too close to each other. He didn't let go of Deva's collar, still pulling it tight in his grip.

Deva slowly put his hand on Varadha's waist, soothing it with his thumb when he felt Varadha jump from the touch and hold him steadily as he slowly guide Varadha to really sit on his lap. Varadha was too stunned to react.

How did he really end up on this man's lap? This wasn't how he envisioned his night would go.

"There. It wasn't hard, was it?" Deva asked without remorse. From this up close, it would be so easy to choke Deva but Varadha just couldn't do it, this man and his confidence will be the death of him, he instead settled his hand on Deva's shoulder for balance.

"I won't even touch you, you can just sit on my lap as I finish my cigarette how about that?" Deva asked the question like Varadha has other choice, he actually has, but there's something at the back of his head who whispered to him that he should play this game.

"Is this some kind of kink to you? Asking any random man to be on your lap?" Varadha questioned him accusingly.

Deva only chuckled, puffing out yet again another smoke but this time to other direction that didn't bother Varadha.

"The only man, can you believe? Usually there are girls. The first man I saw that I want to be on my lap." Deva told him truthfully, his eyes are wild, he couldn't control it, scanning Varadha's figure, fixated on his exposed chest.

Varadha noticed those hungry gaze, the warm feeling quickly spreading to his entire body turning his cheeks into shade of pink.

"Should I be flattered? Or you use this line to all the man you pick up? To make them feel special?" He challenged again, despite his best effort to conceal what he was feeling, Deva's words had started affecting him.

Varadha involuntarily whimpered when Deva's hand brushed his waist accidentally when he took his drink on the table.

Deva smirked at his reaction.

"You are so skittish just from so little. Sitting on my lap is not a hard task is it? Or do you want me to do more?" Deva asked from under his eyes like a predator while he drink his whiskey, his plush lips shining from the remnant of the liquor and Varadha suddenly had an urge to know how those lips taste.

Shit, what's happening.

"What did you drink awhile ago?" Deva's deep voice pulling Varadha out of his reverie; another inhale to his cigarette.

"Just a margarita." He answered shortly, tearing his gaze away from Deva's tempting lips.

"Can I have a taste?" Deva asked again.

"I drank it all in one go, I doubt there's anything left unless you asked your bartender to make a new one., after all it's your club." Varadha said matter of factly.

"But there's still some on your lips. I can have those." Deva raised one of his eyebrows unashamedly. Varadha almost gasped at his attitude but yet again he shouldn't be so surprised anymore considering their situation currently.

"Is this a new trick to ask for a kiss?"

"Only if it's proven successful." Deva looked at him with anticipation and Varadha didn't know what come into him, he was already curious about how Deva's plush lips would taste like and now there's even an invitation from the owner, so what was he waiting for?

Varadha slowly leaning down and place the softest kiss on Deva's lips, the spark that Deva felt from just a little touch almost made him unable to control himself not to take more than what Varadha offered, luckily he could refrain himself and stay still, waiting for whatever Varadha gave him.

After awhile Varadha pulled away, his eyes glazed with something new, there's no more hatred in there, only a novel desire.

"There's a hint of citrus there but other than that I could barely taste it, can I ask for more?" Deva brushed the bottom of his lip with his thumb, once again being so blatant with his flirting.

Varadha didn't object the request, instead he dived down once again, this time pushing his tongue through Deva's open mouth, Deva welcome him way too eagerly, quickly entangled Varadha's soft tongue with his own, sucking on it like he's truly chasing the remaining liquor taste left on Varadha's tongue.

The couple was lost in each other's taste, forgetting the space and time completely like there's no one else in the room but only the two of them, music distance in their ears, conversations swallowed into background noise, all they could hear was just each other's labor breathing and the passion of their heart in their own ears, it's intoxicating and deafening.

Varadha's mind start to go fuzzy on Deva's lap, he almost lost his balance when Deva's tongue literally assaulted his mouth with how deep he could reach inside, Varadha hasn't kiss many men before, he clearly wasn't accustomed with a man's strength and their hunger, usually he was the dominant one but now he almost couldn't handle the way Deva literally fuck his mouth with his tongue alone.

Varadha quickly encircled both his arms around Deva's neck to support himself because he felt like he was floating. Deva immediately put his hands around Varadha's slim waist, holding him in place and pulling him closer toward him, he slowly rest more of his body into into the armrests and pulled Varadha with him making Varadha straddled his lap completely.

After what feel eternity, Varadha break away from Deva's demanding mouth breathlessly, he rest his forehead agaisnt Deva's, staring down at the handsome Devil beneath him.

Deva slowly opened his eyes, the hunger still visible in them, lips glistened with the mingle of their spits. Varadha is instantly in love.

Deva close the distance between them to planted a kiss at his mookuthi, then the tip of his nose before kissing his lips softly.

"Gosh, you are so damn beautiful, Varadha. You have been running around in my mind for a whole week how dare you run away from me after you throw yourself into my arms that night! Almost make me go ballistic because how much I want to have my way with you, but I was trying my best to be a gentleman to you, but deep down I want ...I want to eat you up." Deva confessed boldly. He was indeed holding himself back from pursuing Varadha because he didn't know if he would be interested and he liked him too much to scare him away or hurt him but fate keep serving Varadha in a silver platter for him, tempting him to take a bite.

"What do you want to do to me if I allowed you to have your way with me?" Varadha teased between the hammering of his heart inside his chest for this dangerous man, he never meet anyone who could be so honest about what they want, he knows he is playing with fire, but damn him, he loves the color it makes.

.

"Oh..I will show you pretty baby, I will show you all night long."

Deva pulled Varadha on his face with both of his hands for another passionate kiss.

.

"Bilal, come pick me up, I am drunk and can't drive."

"Where's Varadha?" Bilal asked with concern in his voice.

"I am the one who called you and yet you only think about young master, Varadha."

"It's not like that, you know how he is, he couldn't handle a liquor too much."

"You wouldn't believe where he is right now, man."

"On Deva's lap?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU A FREAKING PSYCHIC BRO?" Rinda yelled through the cellphone, suddenly feeling sober.

"I swear to God trouble always find that boy and now it's the biggest trouble of his life. Wait there don't go anywhere I will come right away, keep eye on Varadha."

"Can't anymore, man. We have lost him. I saw Deva carrying him on his hips with one arm to his car where our dear Varadha shamelessly clinging to him like a little koala. It was comical and embarrassing. Varadha couldn't stop kissing him and climbing on him like a horny little cat, pick me up I am too embarrassed no one want to go back with me to my place. Before I cry here feeling so single!"

.

Part 3

[cakerybakery]

Adam seemed quite upset over the idea of going on a date with Lucifer in public. It wasn’t like Adam objected to the date because he didn’t want to go out with Lucifer. He rather enjoyed dating Lucifer. The dates though, they had always been on the quiet side because Adam still wasn’t quite used to the fact he was dating a man.

He was quite used to get fucked by one but there was a difference between the bedroom and dinner at a restaurant.

So Lucifer thought his plan was ingenious. Adam was still a little in the closet, that was fine. Lucifer knew he looked good in a dress.

Although, if he was honest, it had been a while. Lilith had done his make up and it was for a ball in the Lust ring. He’d been forced to ask Charlie for a bit of help when magic had left him looking a little more like face paint at a child’s birthday party than sexy temptress.

“We’ll go light, okay?” Charlie moved his face about and applied a tiny terrifying brush rather close to his eyeball. “You and I don’t exactly need more blush. And your eyelids are already purple.” She muttered a small thank you for not inheriting that feature from Lucifer. He had to sit still as she applied lipstick next.

Then she attacked his hair as Vaggie was picking out a dress from the ones he’d bought because he wasn’t sure what to wear.

Charlie was stronger than she looked as she held him in a chokehold and worked out a knot he was sure he’d had since 1785.

He was tossed in the bathroom with the clothing and told not to mess up his hair and make up.

Finally getting a breath, he leaned back against the counter. Maybe he was being silly. Lucifer could just wear a suit and make Adam have to face the fact that sometimes, his boyfriend wanted to be seen out in public with him.

Still, he’d come this far and only if he was completely ugly would he take it off.

He dropped the housecoat and took off his boxers. Lucifer slipped the panties on and did up the matching lace bra. It wasn’t like he had anything to show off, but it should give the illusion of a chest anyways.

Stepping into the white sundress, Lucifer pulled it up. He fiddled with the bow but it felt lopsided. The girls would probably have to do it for him. Lucifer checked over his shoulder at the bow and was startled.

Not by the bow, but by himself.

A pretty woman looked back as him in the mirror.

Lucifer turned around fully and the bra worked like expected. Gave him the appearance of breasts. The dress tucked in at his waist and settled at his hips, he had a lovely figure apparently. Charlie had done a nice job on his makeup, as little of it as there was. He had eyelashes, who knew?

He already knew his hair was short. It looked cute all fluffy down though.

When he came out, Lucifer was nervous. He achieved his goal, he just didn’t expect to be quite as pretty as he was.

“Oh.” Charlie’s eyes went wide and a hand went to cover her mouth for an excited, “Wow. Dad, you look lovely.”

Lucifer blushed gold and Vaggie agreed with Charlie.

Vaggie fixed the red bow on the back of the dress and helped tuck a bra strap under a dress strap as Charlie fussed with the lines of the dress and made sure they were straight.

His boots didn’t match and Charlie lent him a pair of strappy black sandals. His normal hat also didn’t match so with a bit a magic he turned it into a sun hat.

Adam was waiting impatiently in the lobby and the guys and Niffty were trying to mollify him.

“Perfection can take time.” Angel, whom knew from the designs on the bags brought back to the hotel over the last few days that Lucifer definitely wasn’t coming down in a suit like Adam thought he was, was grinning widely.

Husk just uh huhed and gave Angel a side eyed glare. He didn’t know about the underwear or dresses but suspected Angel knew more than he was letting on.

“I really don’t see the point of being nervous about the whole thing.” Alastor shrugged, “just murder anyone that dares to mock you. Crush them under the heel of your boot and make them scream and beg for a mercy that will not come. It’s what I would do.”

Niffty giggled as everyone else took a step back.

Charlie and Vaggie stepped out of the lobby elevator first and Adam sighed. He left the bar and stuck his hands in his suit pants pockets. He hated dressing up in fancy modern clothing. It was more restrictive than his robes and casual clothing.

He was handsome, of course, but he wished they could have just going bowling or some shit instead of having reservations at some highbrow fancy ass restaurant.

Adam opened his mouth to speak but his jaw dropped when the girls parted and a beautiful woman stood behind them. For a second Adam thought that Charlie had a sister no one told him about, but the golden blush gave away the woman’s angelic blood.

“Lucifer?” He looked his boyfriend up and down. “Oh shit, you have to fuck me looking like that later.”

Various tones of “Adam!” Sounded off around the room and Adam realized he spoke out loud.

Lucifer just grinned devilishly, grabbed Adam by the lapels and pulled him into a kiss that made Lucifer have to reapply his lipstick before tugging Adam along behind him out to the waiting limo by the tie like a leash.

“Oh you can count on that, handsome.”

[tonya-the-chicken]

I mean though Enji could have been a little less OTT and not done everything wrong. Its just too much really. Like his predecessors being Gaara's dad or Shinji Ikari(or Zuko's dad) more or less were just fated to be villains who die or get a redemption that now feels quite deserved for Erina's dad but none of them did anything as much as Enji. At this point Endeavor has more number of villainous acts depicted than AFO and his kids together.

I feel like it's less about what he objectively did or didn't and way more about the way it is depicted, ye

Some bad fathers are written in a way that hints they are meant to be perceived as the flattest most one-sided dudes out there. And I think it's ok because sometimes you just can't dwell on the character for too long, you have to make priorities. And when you make more complex characters you have to prioritize where you spend your time too

In Horikoshi's case FOR SOME REASON the need to balance between "Enji did all those horrible things and tormented all his family members" and "Enji is capable of growth and has some genuine care for his family and is a person with his own struggles" is resolved by gently writing how his desires overshadowed any care he had and how he had bad ideas he might've not registered as *that* bad and how he didn't necessarily have intended to cause all that harm but he did anyway and he is analyzing he is growing he is finding new priorities trying to become better REMEMBER HOW HE BEAT UP SHOUTO???? LOOK AT THAT. IT IS SO CRUEL HE IS A MONSTER and the way he felt he can't stop if he went so far already and how he once took a genuine interest in his wife and he remember it for years HE IS A VIOLENT ABUSER DO YOU REMEMBER THAT???? OK???? MAYBE A RAPIST TOO and the way he tries to fix things that can be fixed and we see him worrying about Natsuo and others... And how he cried after finding out Touya is alive. Like, he is so deeply human A LITERAL MONSTER LOOK AT THIS FACE

I don't think anyone else receives this kind of treatment. Dabi almost caused Natsuo's death and openly says he wants to kill Shouto but that doesn't influence the way he is treated by the narrative. There are no constant throwbacks to him hurting someone. No trauma in our protagonist, whom he attacked and Shouto has no hard feelings, only a desire to save him. Enji is trapped in the past he can't fix but none of the literal villains terrorists mass murderers are treated this way. Sure, their storyline is different but how come the things THEY did in the past can be forgiven and forgotten but with Enji we have to constantly keep in mind all the evil he did. Like, if the manga doesn't end with him alive and moderately well while redeeming someone like Shigaraki or Dabi I'll tell you honestly I think it would be the most trash writing ever. You can put all the effort into becoming a better person and all you get is "past never dies" or you can put zero effort but have sad childhood so of course you will be saved!!! Let's forget everyone who ever suffered from your treatment. We are not mad at you

It's confusing and inconsistent. It reminds me of the way people would write something and then get mad if others don't see certain characters as bad/good enough. Like, why do you love this and not that? And so they start being aggressive at fans. How dare they liked someone I created not in the way I want it!

But then, I don't want to be too mean to Horikoshi. Maybe he is just that shit at keeping a balance. A sorta straight line between past Enji and present Enji though I feel like it would be easier if we had his motives explained in detail. Past Enji and present Enji don't feel consistent with each other enough which makes little sense when he is the one telling the story of his past. "I didn't mean to neglect you" but no sign of him thinking about not neglecting them in the past? You have the opportunity to confirm every Enji's word. Idk man

It's a lot about perception and depiction and what is important to the plotline. If you are going to drag the backstory so much and keep on returning to it, then shape it out nicely, show new details, change perspectives. We don't dwell on anyone's backstory for as long as todofam

Sometimes I just feel I like the idea he wanted to write but not what he actually wrote you know? But then, how do I know what was his idea

[questionsatemybrain]

Day before yesterday, at about 8 a.m., my existence got unexpectedly much better when my 2011 Kia Rio decided to start and then run like a normal car after 4 months of being totally inoperable. Excited for the possible employment opportunities the city has to offer, I drove an hour away from the rural-ish town I live in to my friend's place in Dallas so that this morning I could wake up refreshed and begin applying for careers in my profession/retail/warehouses...anywhere that will hire me so I can start earning money again. Well, this morning I got antsy and decided to go grab myself a Gatorade from the gas station. Apparently, that was asking too much bc my car died in the middle of the road. It was dark still and there were barely any other drivers out. I put the Rio in Neutral, got out, and started pushing my car into the nearest parking lot. I was using all the strength and force I posses and still it barely crept forward. I was wearing my houseshoes bc I (foolishly, and I'll explain shortly) didn't anticipate any of this. I was slipping and sliding bc the soles had no traction at all. Three separate vehicles slowed down to watch me struggle; two of those passing cars had drivers who catcalled/laughed/said inappropriate stuff about my appearance...all before ultimately just driving away to enjoy their normal day, I guess. Finally, one man stopped to help me push. We finally got it in a parking space in a legit parking lot and attempted jumping the battery a few times before I said I wanted to just wait for daylight. This gentleman offered me a ride home, so I gathered my belongings and reached to grab my keys out 9f the ignition. Lo and behold! Not only will the engine not turn over; the fucking ignition wont release my keys.

I lost it. My heart was beating so fast I started to feel lightheaded and was bracing myself for the full panic attack experience. This gentleman is just watching me fall apart and I'm so embarrassed, but I can't stop bc if I don't let myself cry and release all of this, I'll pass out.

I'm so tired. I'm tired and I'm DONE.

I'm F*CKED. Once again. I don't know how I'm going to fix this or even get back to my house as a first step (which is an hour away).

I'm so done. Everytime I get back up and gather the strength to take steps forward, the pointless absurdism of my life kicks me straight in the teeth, and I'm knocked back further than I was before.

Like, how DARE I expect anything but setbacks and let-down's. This is what I get for having the hubris to feel hope and joy.

My entire life has been like this. I don't know what it's like to just fully enjoy something bc experience has taughte that my lot in life will be to live in the thin space between anxiety and loathing forever waiting for The Other Shoe to Drop. I ought to have known better than to allow myself to feel hope for the future when the Kia initially cranked up.

I don't have any money.

I don't have support resources.

I don't have a ride home.

I have nothing but my absurd fucking existence that annoyingly just keeps going.

I'm done trying. What's the point? This country is a fucking impossible dystopia for anyone that's not grotesquely wealthy.

I GENUINELY, DESPERATELY NEED SOMEONE TO CARE ENOUGH TO HELP AND I JUST.....DO NOT HAVE THAT.

I don't anticipate this will reach anyone, but ffs I hope if it does, one person might come thru and help me.

I don't know how to describe how I feel except beaten-down and hopeless. Oh, and hungry (bc poverty), and I'm in a not-insignificant amount of pain from slipping, sliding, and falling earlier trying to push a whole vehicle on my own with all 135 lbs of me.

If anyone found themselves willing and able to help me, I would be surprised as hell and very likely burst into tears of gratitude.

My CashApp tag is : $Pfitz1984!

An uber ride from Dallas, TX to Greenville, TX is about $55 or so

I'm poor, I have no family willing to step in and offer any type of support beyond basically telling me to grab onto the bootstraps I don't have. My friends are struggling just as much as I am, so I won't even tell them about this (much less ask for help)

[herzblutballade]

Whumpuary Day 1: Nightmares

Language: English Genre: whump just a little bit of hurt and a whole lot of comfort Characters: my OC Cae & @marmeltier's OC Cynthia

CN: Nightmares, disordered sleep, unhealthy relationship with sleep, mentions of hypothetical threat/danger/harm/fight, mention of character being turned into a vampire.

Author's Note: Yeah, let's not even pretend, this turned out very fluffy, not whumpy at all. No regrets tho, I got to write my precious bbys pre-relationship & broke my own heart in the process, 11/10 would do again

***

When the screaming started, Caedes had assumed the worst — and rushed over immediately. He was careful to move as quickly as possible without making a sound, his heart pounding vigorously as he was sneaking through his own house. There’s barely any distance between his bedroom and the guest room, but with Cynthia’s agonizing screams ringing in his ears, it felt like an eternity until he finally reached her.

But when he opened the door and peeked inside, there was nothing — no intruder, no attacker, no tangible danger. Just Cynthia thrashing around in the guest bed, screaming her lungs out.

It’s only now that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough to make sure she is truly unharmed, that his heartbeat is beginning to resume its usual rhythm. »Cindy?«, he asks, voice lowered, gently shaking her shoulder in an attempt to wake her from her troubled sleep. »Hey, Cyn.«

At first, she doesn’t wake, doesn’t answer, just twitches and whimpers in her sleep. Just when he’s about to raise his voice again, louder this time, she jolts awake, sitting up straight, scanning the room with eyes wide open, a look of absolute terror on her face.

»Hey. It’s okay.« He desperately wants to soothe her, but doesn’t know how, doesn’t dare to initiate any more touch, afraid of startling her even more. So he just raises his hands in a typical gesture of surrender, trying to demonstrate that he’s not here to harm her in any way. »It’s just me. You’re awake now. You’re safe.«

She’s still breathing heavily when her gaze finally fixes on him, and it takes a long moment until she seems to recognize him; until she realizes where she is. She blinks at him, lips parted slightly, no words coming out.

»You were screaming«, he explains, suddenly feeling a bit silly for showing up in her room with a sheathed knife on his belt, ready to fight who- or whatever was threatening his best friend. »I thought …« His words trail off and he shrugs, smiling apologetically.

»Nightmares«, Cynthia sighs, »just those damn nightmares again. I …« She takes a deep breath and buries her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes as if to clear the remnants of her bad dreams away. »Sorry, I forgot to warn you before staying over. Peaceful sleep is … not really a thing for me.«

»It’s okay. Now I know«, he replies, mustering a half-smile. »Sounds kind of familiar, honestly.« In fact, he barely ever sleeps anymore now that his body has much less need for rest than a regular human’s; before he got turned, his sleep was terrible most nights, too, especially the dreams, even though he often couldn’t recall them clearly enough to write them down or tell anyone about them.

Cynthia looks at him for a long moment, as if pondering what to say or do.

»Want to stay up together?«, Cae suggests, his smile widening. »Until you feel a bit better, at least. How about a cup of tea? I’ll set up a kettle and try to think of a good distraction while we’re waiting for the water to boil.«

Although her eyes still have that haunted look to them, Cynthia’s lips now curve into a soft smile, too. »Yeah, I’d like that. Tea sounds nice.« As Cynthia crawls out from under her blanket, Caedes stands up from the bed and reaches his hand out to her, helping her to her feet as soon as she takes it. Before he can turn to leave the room, though, she suddenly catches him in a tight hug. She seems to hesitate for a split second before she adds: »Not being alone sounds nice, too.«

At first, the sudden closeness catches him by surprise, and he freezes mid-motion, unable to react, unsure how to react, but finally, he manages to wrap his arms around her, too, holding her close for a moment that seems to go on for so long he begins to wonder when the appropriate time to let go would be.

Hugging her just a little bit tighter, he lets himself enjoy being this close to her for one more cycle of breathing in and out. »Come on, let’s get you some tea«, he murmurs then, forcing himself to let go and lead the way to the kitchen.

Not being alone sounds nice, too. It’s true: When it’s the right person keeping you company, it absolutely does. Even — or especially — in the most vulnerable moments.

[kaypeace21]

Alot of the plots were good - but some aspects just really made the season overall awful . How dare they do that to Max. I'm livid about that. You really had venca's curse represent su*cidal thoughts- which we see Max overcoming in part 1 . Then part 2: bam vecna k*lls max- the girl who str*ggled with ab*se, a horrible home life ,and throughout the season overcame her su*cidal thoughts but got an awful ending . And while dying she says over and over she doesn't want to d*e. It's cruel. Even if she does wake up from the coma - is she blind and or paralyzed and never able to skate again? Play videogames watch movies ?And for what- vecna is alive , and hawkins was still destroyed. Her sacrifice wasn't worth it. And Eddie's death was not only cruel but pointless too. He didn't even save anyone during the scene. And he literally mentioned how he did not want to become like his criminal dad . They kill him and the whole town thinks he's a worse criminal than his father. And he never graduated - it was "not his year". Aka part of his last words.The erica and lucas scenes of being attacked- honestly deserves it's own post. Also the romance is still low key one of the worst cringe parts of an otherwise great show.

I'm sorry m*leven is still so sus to me. Like besides all their relationship issues, it's weird s1-s4 parallels m*leven to family members. Like seriously side eyeing the Duffers just for those weird family parallels- if m*leven is romantic endgame. I mean ...nancy called herself "ruth" and el was in "Ruth, nevada" (and that's like 1 of 20 examples). Just to name one of many of those weird family parallels. Like why do that?? And yeah if it's an actual romantic declaration - you'd think they'd kiss like they did in the beginning of s4 . Not even getting into retcons like mike saying meeting Will at age 5 was "the best thing I've ever done". But now he says his "life started" at age 12 when he met el- cause "love at first sight" bs trope. Love at first sight isn't real. And mike literally the day they found her was suggesting ways to send her away so they could go back to looking for Will, and when he thought el lied ( about seeing Will alive) he slapped her hand and yelled "what is wrong with you?"2x then later said lucas was right to not trust her. Ummm... love at first sight? That?! Ok?And wow glad Will could hear mike's confession about how the 1st day he was reported missing- mike's " life began". Mike be like : "I knew Will for 7 years , before I met el . And all my friendships prior to meeting el- meant nothing to me- because my life only began when I fell in love with El instantly and rushed into a relationship after 1 week of knowing her (and when we finally Date- we just fight for 2 seasons straight). True love. "

Honestly they parallel robin/vickie/her bf to will/mike/El - which is also sus. Given how (supposedly straight) Vickie and her bf breakup- and Vickie seems into Robin at the end of s4.

But regardless I'm so sick of just getting "crumbs" whether byler is a queer bait or s5 makes byler canon. I'm just tired- especially after how the socials /cast and crew constantly pumped up byler during pride month- before part 2.

Not to mention the fact we have to just see Will lie to mike to help m*leven. Even though he hates lying to mike. Like no that was Will's painting -el thought it was for a crush of Will's (she didn't commission it for Mike at all)! He was just trying to be a good friend and brother by trying to fix m*leven (and lying to mike to fix m*leven's failing romantic relationship).like think about it- mike literally thinks that d&d painting /"heart" metaphor was El's creative idea and something el made as a gift for him . When it was all Will!!! That "heart" line Will says to mike is used again later by Will- to encourage mike to confess he loves El. Will literally uses his own romantic words for mike- to encourage mike to confess to el instead. Gross. If m*leven is endgame- could they do it in a less awful way to Will? Not to mention mike finally says he loves el-partially because he's moved by Will's painting (he thinks is from el). Which is also messy for m*leven endgame. All those words in the car to mike were Will's confession (he literally just replaced his pronouns for "El" and "she/her" ). Even jonathan saw it that way. Will to mike: " you're guiding- inspiring . That's what you do. you're the heart, without the heart (i'd) fall apart. These past few months (i've) been lost without you.(cough mike said the "lost " line to Will first) .When you're different from other people ... when you're different ... sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make (me) feel like (I'm) not a mistake at all. And that gives (me ) courage to fight on. If (I) seemed like (I) was pushing you away. It's because (I'm)scared of losing you. "

And the fact we're just left with Will sulking in the corner - and being a trope of "sad gay character in love with his (supposedly straight) best friend". And have Will low key fix that the dysfunction het couple - who have trivial convoluted drama/dysfunction every season they date. But never actually resolve any of their fundamental issues - lying, spying, neglecting all their friends for eachother ,etc. Because you know the trope: gays always have to step aside and sacrifice the romantic love they have for a friend -so that same friend can instead live " happily ever after" (in a het relationship). Even if that het couple is dysfunctional and poorly written. I'm gay ... and just so tired of this type of stuff , repeated over and over and over again in media. Do writers not realize bad-rep is much worse than no-rep?Like if byler isn't canon these scenes right here are literally just rubbing salt in the wounds of Will and other gay/queer fans who empathize or relate to him.

It's like i've mentioned in the past a lot of straight writers LOVE the 'sad gay - trope' . Alot of those straight writers don't empathize with us as people, they infact "romanticize our pain" and find it "beautiful" . And just find our suffering "dramatic and angsty" decoration to their story- where they can also add bragging points of being "inclusive". They don't actually care about how problematic the queer rep is -and how it negatively affects us.

Even Will said he'd rather "pull the bandaid off" in regards to romance drama between him and mike. But duffers didn't do that- or give any closure for Will. Nah they forgot his bday and did this instead. Heck, no romantic closure for Will or even the whole st*ncy/j*ncy drama. Which is a whole other can of worms in itself (i'm saying this as someone who doesnt ship either st*ncy or j*ncy). Regardless of what could happen in s5. I'm just tired of how poorly some (frankly most) of the romance is handled in the series.

If m*leven is endgame they did it in the most reductive , stereotypical, predictable, and also hurtful way possible to lgbt fans. Without actually fixing m*leven's real issues to make us like them together as a couple. Heck (not only do they have problems that were never fixed ) : like lying /spying/ mike still hero worshiping her - which were never fixed ). They're now just a cliche ("love at first sight couple", who ever since they started dating have artifical convoluted drama every season ). Literally s3 and 4 are the same: m*leven neglect their friends for eachother, lie to eachother , fight with eachother, then say they're in love. There's no change , no progess they just repeat the same problematic pattern. Forget mike saying in part 1 this was a fight the pairing "couldn't get past" or mike nodding to Will saying maybe he's afraid to tell el the truth, cause she may not like it. Ummm - part 2 doesn't connect to that, why would El not like his confession? Not to mention mike only can say he loves her in s3 and 4 when her life is in danger (and in s4 when Will encourages him to keep talking)- not sus at all. The whole season Mike shares dialogue with brenner - even in the love confession (ick). And lol after his love confession- el won't talk to him. (purposeful hinting it won't work out ? or just horrible writing for an awful romantic pair who always have had poor communication?) Straight-mike narratively just makes mike a sh*t friend too- going from a great , considerate,and observant friend in s1 and 2. But , then the second he starts dating El in s3 :he neglects his friends for 2 straight seasons in favor of El (all while being a not good bf to her for 95% of their relationship). And also he literally said his life didn't begin until el (this is literally insulting to all his prior friendships which were established long before meeting el ). Straight-mike isn' t the "heart" of any party as Will claimed - not anymore (he straight up says his other relationships don't matter. Will, lucas, dustin- pfft his" life didn't even begin " until el ). Some of the worst days of Will's life - pfft mike, his bff, doesn't care about Will's tra*ma cause it gave him the chance to meet el. And he'll say it -right infront of Will. Iike mike could have said he's grateful to have met el in so many ways - but bringing up the day itself like that. Ugh. But in the end, both seasons his friends are the ones who have to help mike retain this supposed perfect romance. And let's get real they have no chemistry as a pairing- Mike just doesn't seem genuine in his love . And the confession incorporating mike's desire to be "needed" and having mike call her a "hero" and "superman'.yeah- hero worship from mike and dependence from el (winning romantic combo) . Also yeah , weird how El's "hero' is her dad and mike's is El. Given again all the family parallels. Heck terry(mom)/ mike saying "I love you" to El- is what gets her to defeat vecna.

And If byler is endgame in s5 - the duffers are overestimating how much bs they can put queer fans through- before they give us a happy ending . Like wow thanks for ending the season with mike & Will standing together, in between 2 other romantic pairings. After you made Will suffer through a bunch of problematic queer tropes (that you may subvert in s5- in like... 4 years). I'd say that framing at the end is a hint of byler- but they did the same framing in s3 only to do this in s4. So they may just leave those hints in the show to string and queer bait us longer. But honestly even if byler is canon in s5 (i actually think it has a decent chance of being endgame ): the Duffers sabotaged themselves. Becuse now bylers are less engaged in wanting to watch s5, and in s5 you'd piss off the m*levens . Cause mike would have lied to El and led her on (or just said it cause he didn't want her to d*e/ he meant he loved her in a non romantic way). But also when mike did his romance speech to El- he said the most messed up stuff right infront of Will ( aka the day Will was k*dnapped is when mike finally felt alive- cause he met El) . THAT'S SO MESSED UP. most bylers probably won't even bother to watch s5 - assuming the worst again too.

So my point is - regardless of whether mike is straight, gay or bi (they wrote themselves into a corner where mike looks bad either way). And his relationships with both of them are messy af.

[sarahisslytherin]

enchanted // r.b.

Summary: Forced to attend a Slytherin gala, you stumble into someone who makes the night a bit more bearable. Contains: Fluff, a little bit of social anxiety. A/N: This is literally staight out of Little Women, Louisa May Alcott please don’t come for me. Loosely based on lyrics by Ms. Swift. Also thank you @velvetcloxds for reviewing this before it was kind of decent.

The music was uncomfortably loud. The dance floor, once navigable, was now crowded far beyond your liking. You hadn’t really planned on spending the night at a Slytherin gala, but your parents had. 

“Where’s your house pride?” they’d asked when you’d objected. You took plenty of pride in your house, however misunderstood it might’ve been. What you didn’t take pride in was often being lumped into the same category as the Death Eaters who now littered the ballroom. 

You’d danced with a couple of the boys there, those who you knew to be decent young men. But as the night progressed, the more people arrived at the party, and the more uneasy you felt. Which is how you found yourself expertly inching towards the corner of the room, making for the exit.

“Where are you going?” your mother’s shrill voice was enough to pierce the air, far from the dancing couples and string quartet. “You have to dance if you want to be invited to any more of these.”

“I don’t want that.” you groaned. 

She tutted and straightened you out, ignoring your comment. “Find yourself a mirror and fix your hair up. You look like you’ve just gotten off a broom. And for the love of Merlin, straighten up.”

“Alright, alright.” you sighed in defeat.

“The Malfoy boy was looking to dance with you. If I were you I’d try my best not to ruin your chances. And you ought to work on your dancing skills, you need to move more gracefully if you want a boy like Lucius to spare you a second glance.” she said stiffly before she ambled over to her friends, heels clacking against the marble.

There was no chance in hell you were dancing with Lucius Malfoy. You knew your parents only wanted the best for you, but climbing the social ladder was the last way to achieve that. That’s how you reasoned it as you slipped through the french doors and onto the porch that surrounded the mansion.

It was dark out, save for the lamps that adorned the exterior walls, but the ballroom inside provided more than enough light to see properly. Enough light to make out the silhouette of a boy. 

“Godric! You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he panicked, shooting up and coming over to you. “I didn’t mean to.”

It was then, when the gold light was cast upon him entirely that you realized it was Regulus Black who’d nearly given you a heart attack. 

“I’m so sorry, I, uh, I didn’t realize there was anyone out here. And I’m not supposed to curse.” you stuttered.

“Says who?” Regulus smiled. It was the infectious sort of smile, the kind that would have any girl weak at the knees. “I don’t really know many people here, that’s why I’m out here. But you can stay if you like.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” you shook your head, simultaneously anxious to abandon this uncomfortable situation yet curious as to what would happen if you stayed.

“Nonsense.” Regulus tutted. He, unlike yourself, stood perfectly straight. The posture of a prince. “Please, stay.” 

“Well, if you insist, Mister Black.” you chuckled bashfully.

“Please, I’m actually begging you to never call me that again.” he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling above a childish grin.

“Oh, and what should I call you then?” You asked as you felt yourself beginning to feel more comfortable. 

“Regulus.” he replied, “Maybe Reggie on a good day.”

“Is today a good day?”

“I dare say it is.” he smirked boyishly. “Though I have an idea of how it could be better.”

“And how’s that?”

He extended his hand to you, the way a proper gentleman would. “Do you dance, Miss?”

“Not Miss.” you corrected him, blushing as you took his hand. “Just Y/N.”

“Well, then, Y/N. Shall we?”

He spun you around. Before you knew it you were both gliding down the porch, the people inside oblivious to the fun you were having. The more you danced the more the overwhelming feeling of joy and comfort washed over you, and your anxiousness to leave this place was the furthest thing from your mind. The classical music from the ballroom poured out the windows while you danced. All the couples inside were dancing much slower than the pair of you. Much more gracefully too. You were dancing like children. Like children who didn’t care for titles or social status. Like children who only wanted to enjoy the night and the other’s presence.

Sooner than you’d anticipated, the music died out, and you and Regulus were spent. Your chests heaved, excitement still buzzing in the air.

“Will you talk to me?” he asked suddenly. “When we’re back at school?”

“Of course, Reggie.” you smiled, not missing the way Regulus blushed as the name left your lips. “But only if you’ll dance with me one more time.”

“If I may be so bold, I’ll dance with you whenever you like.”

It was then when you heard your mother call your name from inside, breaking the little spell you both seemed to be under. 

“I’ve got to go.” you groaned, realizing you’d have to go back to playing pretend the second you’d set foot back in that room. “I had the best time, really.”

“So did I.” Regulus said, practically beaming. “I was enchanted to meet you, Y/N.”

“Well, I am a witch.” you snorted, quite unbecomingly as you made your way towards the door. Regulus made no effort to mask his amusement. 

‘I’ll see you at school’s were exchanged and before you knew it you were back in the icy cold ballroom, weaving your way through the dancers till you reached your parents.

“The Malfoy boy has left! Where in Merlin’s name were you?”

“Oh, nowhere.” you said, biting down a smirk that would’ve told them you knew something they didn’t. “Just working on my dancing skills.”

taglist: @velvetcloxds @pinkcloxds @sereinegemini @coldlilheart @padf00ts-l0ver @saintlike78 @d22malfoys @blue-4-55-readinglist @mendesxruel @scandalous-chaos​

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[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || six: why does everyone monologue so much

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: shigaraki makes a mistake (kidnaps a Child™), a grandpa knocks out dabi and upsets you, then shit goes sideways and you're kinda homeless again but not really

content: aaaaangst?

word count: 1788

a/n: couldn't find a good enough gif for dabi so we've got the asshole thumb thumb lookin fucker instead

*previously known as “we can’t fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)”; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they’re just being overall menaces

AO3 link

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“I’ll ask you one more time, aspiring hero, Bakugo Katsuki… will you join me?”

You had to withhold a laugh at Shigaraki’s question. He really thinks kidnapping this kid and chaining him up will win his favour? 

“If you’re gonna talk in your sleep, you should just go to sleep and die,” Bakugo snarled. You did laugh at that. 

“I think you just got owned by a kid, boss.” You grinned, disregarding Shigaraki’s withering glare. Dabi elbowed you and mouthed ‘not the time’. 

Shigaraki turned his attention to the T.V., where Eraserhead was giving a statement on the Villain’s attack and Bakugo’s kidnapping. After a few minutes, he looked back at Bakugo. 

“It’s so strange…” he said. “Why are the heroes being criticised? The way they were dealing with things was just a little off the mark. Is it because it’s their job to protect? Everyone makes a mistake or two. Are they supposed to be perfect? Modern-day heroes are so uptight. Don’t you think, Bakugo?”

“Once heroes receive compensation to protect people, they aren’t heroes anymore,” Spinner added. “That is Stain’s teaching.”

“Many of your so-called ‘heroes’ only protect those who fit their beliefs,” you said softly, “and disregard the suffering of those they deem lesser or unworthy. Are they really heroes then?”

Shigaraki began again, “The strange system of transforming people’s lives into money or glory. The society that sticks tight to those rules. The citizens who blame the losers rather than encourage them. Our fight is to question: what is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We’ll have everybody thinking about it. We’re planning on winning.” He trained his eye on Bakugo, and asked with a tilt of his head, “you like winning, too, right?”

Bakugo’s glare sharped. You stepped back slightly, not trusting the look on the kid’s face.

“Dabi, release his restraints.” Shigaraki pointed at the boy. Dabi turned to their leader.

“Huh? This guy’s gonna fight, you know.” 

Shigaraki shrugged. “It’s fine. We need to treat him like an equal, since we’re scouting him. Besides, you can tell if you’ll win or not if you fight in this situation, right, U.A. student?”

Dabi huffed, then glanced at Twice. “Twice, you do it.” You snickered. He glared at you, as if daring you to comment. You chose not to.

“What, me? No way!” Twice jumped.

“Do it.”

“Man…” He walked over and began to fiddle with the restraints. As he did that, Compress spoke up.

“I do apologise for using such forceful methods. But please understand that we are not just a mob trying to commit crimes. We didn’t kidnap you by accident.”

Shigaraki got up and approached Bakugo, who was massaging his wrists. “Even though our situations differ, everyone here has been restricted and suffered because of people… rules… and heroes. I’m sure you also—” He stopped speaking when Bakugo kicked Twice away and lunged towards him, setting off an explosion and knocking Father off of his face.

“Shigaraki!”

“I listened quietly to your endless talking… idiots can’t get to the point, so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically, you mean ‘we wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right? Don’t bother.” Bakugo stood straight and grinned. “I want to win like All Might. No matter what anyone says, that will never change!”

Dabi moved slightly to shield you as everyone took up defensive positions in case the kid decided to fight. It was then that you noticed Shigaraki’s unnerved expression as he eyed the hand now on the floor. “Father…”

Bakugo took up a fighting stance, his grin even wider. “That’s how it is, you damn scum of a league! Just so you know, I’m still allowed to fight!”

“You know exactly what your position is, huh? What a smart boy!” Magne almost sounded impressed. 

Dabi, on the other hand, was the opposite. He looked bored and slightly annoyed. “No, he’s an idiot.”

Toga clapped her hands together. “I’ll stick you!”

“Even if he wasn’t going to join us, he should have pretended we were winning him over… he’s done it now,” Compress mused. You agreed—that would’ve been the smart thing to do.

“I won’t do something I don’t want to even if I’m only faking it. And I don’t wanna be in an annoying place like this for very long.”

“We aren’t annoying,” you snapped at him. “If anything, you are, ya damn brat. Talk at a normal volume, will you?” Dabi elbowed you again to get you to quiet down.

Shigaraki’s hand twitched. “Father…”

“Don’t, Shigaraki Tomura! Calm down!” Kurogiri said frantically, readying to stop him from attacking Bakugo.

Instead of fighting, he held his arm out. “Don’t touch him, any of you.” Shigaraki picked up Father from the floor. “This guy…” he began as he placed the hand back onto his face, “...is a valuable piece. I wish you would’ve listened to me a little. I thought we could come to an understanding.”

“Come to an understanding? No way!”

“Then I have no choice. The heroes said they’re continuing their investigation of us. We don’t have time to talk leisurely.” Shigaraki turned towards the T.V.. “Sensei—lend me your power.”

“Sensei? You’re not the boss around here? That’s not funny!” Bakugo hissed.

“Kurogiri, Compress, make him go to sleep again.”

Compress sighed as he moved towards the boy, “I can’t believe he’s such a bad listener. I’m almost impressed.”

“If you want me to listen to you, then get on your knees and die!”

Before Compress could activate his Quirk, there was a knock at the door. “Hello, this is Pizza-la, Camino store.” A beat passed, before the wall Spinner was leaning against burst and heroes swarmed.

“Smash!”

“Kurogiri, gate!” Shigaraki shouted. 

“Pre-emptive binding—” Wooden vines wrapped around the League members, preventing Kurogiri from activating his Quirk, “—Lacquered Chain Prison!”

You yelped in pain as the vines restricted around you, aggravating your arthritis. Dabi snarled at that, flames lighting up on him. “Watch what you’re doing, hero!” Before he could do anything, another hero kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

“Dabi!” You panicked, thrashing around. “Shit, Dabi—”

“—don’t be impatient. It’d be in your best interests to stay put.”

All Might glared at the League, ignoring their protests and discomfort. “You can’t run anymore, League of Villains! Why? Because we are here!” He then stood and turned to Bakugo. “I’m sure you were scared… you did good bearing it. I’m sorry. It’s fine now, young man!”

You zoned out after that, your focus solely on Dabi’s wellbeing. It wasn’t until Shigaraki began to get up that you snapped back to reality.

“—justice, peace… I’ll destroy this garbage heap that you put a lid on with such vague ideas! It was for that purpose that I set All Might apart and started gathering people to my cause! Don’t be ridiculous. This is the beginning… Kurogiri—!” He began, but stopped his order as something pierced through Kurogiri, causing the warp-gate user to slump over.

“No, stop! I couldn’t see anything! What, did you kill him?!” Magne shrieked, shaking her head around. 

The “something” that pierced Kurogiri moved in front of her. “I played around with his insides and made him unconscious. He is not dead.”

“Fucker, you could’ve hurt him!” You shouted. “You don’t just play around inside of people, you freak!” The hero ignored you, only proving to further your anger.

The old man that knocked Dabi out spoke, “Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interests to stay put? Hikiishi Kenji, Sako Atushiro, Iguchi Shuichi, Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin, L/N Y/N. With little information and time, the police officers worked through the night to determine your true identities. Do you understand? There’s nowhere left for you to run.

“Hey Shigaraki, can I ask you where your boss is?” The old man finished. 

You rolled your eyes. Always running their mouths, always grandstanding… I hate heroes. 

When All Might questioned Shigaraki, he began to spiral. You itched to reach out and comfort him before he went too far. Nausea built up in your throat.

Black pools popped up all around the bar, and Nomus began to spill out—sending the heroes into a panic. When one of the pools erupted from Bakugo’s mouth, All Might rushed to grab him, but wasn’t fast enough and shouted in frustration when he disappeared.

You realised the nausea wasn’t from your anxiety as soon as you, and the rest of the League, started to gag up the strange substance as well. It swirled around each of the members, and you all disappeared as well. 

You had teleported to a destroyed section of a building, with Boo and Nugget appearing as well. You tucked Nugget into your shirt and Boo under your arm, then scrambled to Dabi’s side. “Dabi, Dabi, wake up, please!” Your voice was strained from panic and the pain caused from the hero’s binding having been too tight. You registered that All Might had arrived, and that Shigaraki’s Sensei was preparing to fight him, but ignored everything around you—until red vines shot out from his fingers and into Kurogiri, waking him back up. 

“Kurogiri, get everyone away from here.”

Magne rushed forward. “Hey, wait! He was defeated and is now unconscious! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you can use Warp, then you should get us away!”

“I just got mine, Magne. On top of only being able to transport short distances, unlike his coordinate transport, I can only bring people to or away from me. I can only send them away to someone I am very familiar with. So I’ll have Kurogiri do it. Forced Quirk Activation!” The mist covering Kurogiri exploded into a warp gate. “Now go!”

“What about you…?” Shigaraki protested.

“Think constantly, Tomura,” All For One said as he rose into the air. “You still have much more room to grow.”

“Sensei!” 

“Shigaraki, we need to leave,” you begged, biting back a groan of pain as you stood. You held on tighter to Boo to make sure she wouldn’t wiggle away.

Compress agreed as he used his Quirk to shrink Dabi. “While All Might is being held back, get your piece! Y/N, you need to go—you can’t fight, and that guy’s vines hurt you. Take Dabi and get through the gate. Do you need help moving?” He pressed the blue marble into your free hand.

You shook your head. “No, I can manage. Thank you, Compress.” You smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “Make sure everyone gets out safely, please.” 

With Boo, Nugget and Dabi safely on you, you stumbled through the warp gate, leaving the sound of fighting behind.

[helpimhyperfixating]

mer! Y/n: "Dio is hot on our tails! How do we shake him?" mer! Joot: "There's always a bigger fish! Trust me, Y/n!" (swims right through the deep sea trench where the ancient giant pillar mers dwell and as Dio gives chase glowing eyes from the abyss lock onto his golden gleam, hungry for feral vampire mer-- the abyssal giants' favored prey)

Risk - A small Mer AU fic

Word Count: 1120

Your hand in his, you and Jotaro fled from the vampire Mer.

Jotaro’s grip was tight on your hand, pulling you with him as he swished his tail frantically, going as fast as he could. Normally, he might have stood his ground and fought, but Dio was cunning, and he would no doubt try to find a way to use you to weaken or distract Jotaro. And he just couldn’t risk you getting hurt. So he ordered you to swim, the both of you fleeing.

“Jotaro, he’s right behind us!” Your panicked voice called out, and while there was worry and fear for you inside of him before, now Jotaro’s gaze hardened. “What do we do?!”

A squeeze on your hand made you turn your head forward, everything seeming slow as Jotaro briefly look down at you. “Trust me.” His voice was calm before he already turned to look forward again, his eyes focusing on the deep basalt chasm laying ahead of you. “There’s always a bigger fish.”

Without any warning he suddenly shot down, abruptly pulling you with him as he swam to the edge of the trench, diving down as deep and far as he could while you could practically feel the displacement of water of Dio’s claws swiping at you from behind.

“Jotaro!” You panicked, starting to run out of steam. You couldn’t go much further and everything around you but up was dark, the basalt rocks seemingly absorbing all the light coming from above, leaving just an inky darkness below and a dark blue all around.

Jotaro squeezed your hand tight, knowing how close Dio was, making his heart beat. Cursing in his head, he darted further down in a spiral, going down until he really could barely see anything around himself, trusting that his plan would work before either of you reached the edge of the trench.

“You think you can out-swim me, Jotaro?” The chilling voice came from above and Jotaro quickly levelled out, pulling you closer to himself as he swam, chancing a glance behind. Right on your tails, were the glowing orange eyes, hungry and vengeful.

Hissing loudly at the vampire, Jotaro wasted no more further energy on looking behind himself and swam. Yet as he did, he noticed your tail-stride get weaker with each moment, indicating your exhaustion.

And so did Dio.

The vampire Mer smirked, knowing you wouldn’t hold out much longer, and neither would Jotaro, seeing how the shark Mer’s tail started to falter as well.

Yet what he didn’t take notice of, were the glowing eyes looking on from below. Dio was so focused on the two of you that he didn’t notice the other presences until it was too late.

From the depth, Mer that must have been three times as big as Jotaro lunged up. Their gazes fixed on the small group of Mer, the three of you were suddenly surrounded.

Large and terrifying silhouettes danced in the dark waters, circling all around you and forcing you to stop, Jotaro quickly pulling you into his chest protectively. Even Dio came to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening briefly at the rapidly moving shadows, yet he venomously glared at Jotaro a second later. “Where the hell did you lead us?!”

All of a sudden, two more dark forms appeared from above, swimming in opposite directions of each other as they circled your little group vertically; now surrounded and herded from left, right, front, back, up and down.

In response to the vampire, Jotaro turned his eyes away from the giants and to him.

“Pillar Trench.”

Just those two words were enough to have your breath hitch and Dio’s eyes widen.

Pillar Trench was a myth. Said to be home to the Ancient Mer. Abyssal leviathans who once ruled the sea, punished by the gods and swallowed up in lava, encasing them in a rock prison for hundreds of years, stuck in darkness with no sensory stimulation. After serving their sentence and seeing, feeling and hearing nothing for so long, it is said that any sight of light was harmful to them, the regular sounds of the sea so loud that they were forced into the deep.

But that was a myth. A story told to pups to keep them out of and away from the deep. Only now, you weren’t so sure.

The shadows seemed to speed up. Everything was dark and your night vision did barely anything to help. Every now and then, you were able to catch a flash of eyes; bright red and terrifying.

You didn’t dare speak a word, afraid they would attack if you did. So you just clung tightly to Jotaro, finding solace in his presence. Never had you felt like this. This afraid. This much… like a prey.

You and Jotaro stayed as still in the water as possible, Jotaro only very quietly swishing his tail to keep you both upright and at the same level, one arm around your shoulders while the other was in your hair, holding your head to his chest.

Dio was a different story, moving around and following the giants with his eyes and body, trying to never show his back to them yet failing with four circling around from all angles.

Suddenly, the two circling vertically tightened down, cutting between you and Jotaro and Dio. The vampire dashed back, trying to stay away from the Mer, yet his eyes were giving him away in the dark.

Leaving you and Jotaro on the wayside, the four silhouettes closed in on Dio and you felt one of them pass right by you - you could have sworn you felt its nails dragging across your back lightly.

Yet at this moment, Jotaro bolted into action, holding you tightly as he rapidly moved his tail, swimming straight up into the light.

Your eyes were still focused on the deep, seeing Dio’s eyes wide as the two of you were able to swim away, let go by the seeming mercy of the ancients.

That, or they just had no interest, having eyes for a different prey.

The four abyssal giants closed in so tight now that the entirety of Dio’s form disappeared from your view, a desperate screech sounding from the deep as he seemingly tried to attack or break free, all the while Jotaro kept a powerful stride in his tail, bringing you both up and back into the light.

As Jotaro held you tight, swimming back home as he refused to let you go, you chanced a last glance at the basalt trench and you could have sworn you saw glowing eyes following your every move.

That day was the last anyone had ever seen of Dio.

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best. 

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all.  i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep. 

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.” 

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.” 

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?” 

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy. 

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?” 

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping. 

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.” 

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry. 

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister. 

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table. 

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.” 

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river. 

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while. 

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again. 

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.” 

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more. 

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been. 

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek. 

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold. 

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left. 

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?” 

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice. 

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.” 

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?” 

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.” 

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was. 

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face. 

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything. 

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so. 

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?” 

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.” 

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer. 

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.” 

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.” 

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.” 

“Can you not do that here?” 

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.” 

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.” 

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.” 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.” 

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.” 

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas. 

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.” 

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?” 

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?” 

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.” 

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.” 

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands. 

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.” 

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.” 

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.” 

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.” 

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.” 

“Deal.” 

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

 You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him. 

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity. 

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face. 

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same. 

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.” 

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.” 

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.” 

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body. 

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.” 

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.” 

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.” 

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you. 

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.” 

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice. 

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle. 

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out. 

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could. 

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.” 

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.” 

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”  

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?” 

“I might.” 

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.” 

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates. 

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms. 

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.” 

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.” 

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.” 

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.” 

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.” 

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.” 

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.” 

“You do have you.” 

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.” 

“You respected that?” 

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.” 

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know. 

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing. 

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.” 

“What have you done now?” 

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan. 

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee. 

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle. 

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.” 

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you. 

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.” 

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.” 

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.” 

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.” 

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.” 

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you. 

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward. 

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry. 

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” 

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.” 

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house. 

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?” 

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to. 

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way. 

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now. 

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.” 

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth. 

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.” 

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.” 

“His name is Theodore.” 

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up. 

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother. 

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?” 

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.” 

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood. 

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her. 

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?” 

“To Theodore.” 

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.” 

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.” 

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.” 

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?” 

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.” 

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.” 

“He loves you.” 

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.” 

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right. 

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.” 

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.” 

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.” 

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.” 

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.” 

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.” 

“How have you ended up?” 

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.” 

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact. 

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?” 

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.” 

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours. 

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”  

“Thank you.” 

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so. 

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover. 

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open. 

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.” 

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.” 

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.” 

“You asked?” 

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.” 

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?” 

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.” 

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.” 

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.” 

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.” 

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.” 

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?” 

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?” 

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns. 

“Did she ever love me?” 

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.” 

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.” 

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace. 

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck. 

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing. 

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. 

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair. 

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.” 

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.” 

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.” 

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.” 

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house. 

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere. 

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee. 

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.” 

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt. 

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.” 

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her. 

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.” 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?” 

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.” 

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.” 

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.” 

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.” 

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.” 

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.” 

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.” 

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it. 

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so. 

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing? 

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance. 

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there.  At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do. 

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point. 

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her. 

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke. 

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.” 

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around. 

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face. 

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man. 

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered. 

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip. 

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.” 

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about. 

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.” 

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.” 

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .” 

“I look exhausted.” 

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.” 

“I’m. . .” 

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this? 

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it. 

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .” 

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.” 

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.” 

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today. 

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?” 

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.” 

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.” 

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it. 

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like. 

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again. 

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice. 

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.” 

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop. 

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.” 

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .” 

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is. 

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.” 

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“I could.” 

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?” 

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.” 

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?” 

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.” 

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.” 

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.” 

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love. 

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do. 

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.” 

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.” 

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.” 

“Why not?” 

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.” 

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.” 

“Do you want to marry him?” 

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance. 

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.” 

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?” 

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.” 

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.” 

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.” 

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?” 

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.” 

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time. 

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.” 

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here. 

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second. 

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you. 

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress. 

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you. 

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.” 

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes. 

“Tomorrow?” 

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.” 

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?” 

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it. 

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.” 

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day. 

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.” 

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?” 

“Yes?” 

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?” 

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.” 

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box. 

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?” 

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is. 

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.” 

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?” 

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.” 

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.” 

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.” 

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?” 

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.” 

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?” 

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.” 

“Did you ever love me?” 

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement. 

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date. 

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him. 

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did. 

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.” 

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America. 

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave. 

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?” 

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.” 

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years. 

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.” 

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.” 

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.” 

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.” 

“I love you too.” 

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that. 

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle. 

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own. 

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks. 

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way. 

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.” 

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck. 

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that. 

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?” 

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head. 

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist. 

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?” 

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it. 

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers. 

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin. 

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder. 

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?” 

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips. 

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?” 

You nod your head, “Please.” 

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience. 

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you. 

“Good?” 

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.” 

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.” 

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure. 

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him. 

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up. 

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them. 

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.” 

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting. 

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills. 

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book. 

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction. 

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard. 

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other. 

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.” 

“I love you too.” 

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.” 

[kiame-sama]

Web Of Desire (Yandere Chrollo x Reader x Yandere Hisoka) part 3

Warnings; mention of past non-con, pregnancy, descriptive language, Hisoka, yandere tendencies, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, 

You slowly woke up, a faint whine leaving your lips as you cuddled down into a pair of warm arms. You faintly realized something was off and only when you rest your hand over your stomach did you realize what it was. You sat up bolt straight and threw the blankets off of you, staring down at your smooth stomach.

"What's wrong?"

You almost replied before you realize that the voice that had called out to you was not that of your husband. You turned to look at the stranger you shared your bed with and you let you a yelping cry when you spied the familiar red hair and gold eyes. The startled scream that left your lips continued even as you shot out of bed.

It took you a moment longer to realize where you were and that your stomach was once again exceedingly swollen. You were standing in the room of the air-ship you and Chrollo shared, a sleepy and confused Chrollo slowly sitting up in bed. Your comfortable night-gown stretched around your enlarged stomach and made it apparent just how far along you were.

"What's wrong, Little Spider?"

"I... Just had a bad dream is all."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really..."

Chrollo held out his arms, beckoning you to return to his side and try to rest again. You  slowly walked over to him and let him pull you into his arms, resting your head against his chest as he rubbed your sides. One of his hands rest gently on your stomach, smiling slightly when he felt a tiny hand push back.

"Just restless, I guess..."

"Might be that our baby spiders are just restless so they're making it hard for you."

"Seems they agree with you on that one."

You winced slightly from a particularly rough kick and Chrollo silently leaned down to kiss your stomach, huming softly.

"Be nice to your mother."

You couldn't help the loving smile that pulled at your lips as Chrollo spoke to your stomach. You may not be sure if the children even were Chrollo's- given the unfortunate events that took place against your will- but you appreciated the gentle behavior all the same. You also appreciated how calm he was even though you noticed a rise in seething hatred any time Hisoka came up in conversation.

It was clear Chrollo blamed himself for what that bastard clown had done to you, and he was likely harder on himself about it than anyone else dare to be. His hate and desperate need to protect you soothed you slightly, letting you breathe easy knowing Chrollo took up rather consistent guard. It also soothed you to know that your husband would stay with you no matter what happened.

The troupe had yet to respond to any of your messages and you truly hoped that they were getting on well regardless of the fact that two members were KIA and their two leaders were MIA. You wondered how they responded to the news of what had happened to you and Chrollo that caused the two of you to avoid them. You also wondered what they would do to the children once they were allowed contact with you and Chrollo again.

All you could do now was wait and see, given how heavily pregnant you already were. You were tired and in need of serious rest given just how close you were to giving birth. It made things better to have Chrollo by your side, given all that you were going through. To some extent, you honestly were terrified to leave his side for long, always feeling like you were being watched.

The warm feeling of being wrapped in his arms gave you a great sense of peace and the little lives growing inside of you settled down. You probably would have gone through much worse if you were alone, but you tried not to think too hard about what would have happened to you. There was always the troupe, but no place felt quite as reassuring or relaxing as being in Chrollo's arms.

"Chrollo?"

"Hm?"

"Even if they are his... I want to keep them."

"... I know. I'll still be right here by your side no matter what you choose or who their father is. I'll always be here for you, my Little Spider."

~~~~~~~~

You lay in a white hospital bed, hearing the EKG beeping quietly as you try to relax and regain your clarity once more. You deserved the rest too, given what you had to endure for about 28 hours. You had passed out after your second child was born, exhausted from the strain and effort it had taken to bring the new life into this world.

You were faintly aware of someone sitting by your bedside, keeping you company even in your exhausted state. You were more exhausted than usual, and that said something given your need for sleep and rest already being more than average. The faint sound of an infant fussing pulled you the rest of the way to consciousness, eyes slowly opening.

Next to you sat a rather calm Chrollo listening to what must have been one of the doctors talking to him. As you turned your gaze, you saw two of the nurses were present, both holding one child swaddled in small blankets.

"Mrs. Lucilfer?"

"Hm?"

"Ah, it's good to see you conscious. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

Your short response earned an amused chuckle from Chrollo as he had gotten the same response numerous times before.

"You're always tired, Little Spider."

"Then I'm always accurate when I tell you I'm tired."

Chrollo gently held your hand and that small moment with him seemed far more intimate than you had expected from him. He was typically passive when in the public eye or around others, but you appreciated the small moment of vulnerability. Another snorting cry drew your attention to the small bundle in one of the nurses' arms while the infant inside that bundle fussed and struggled.

"If you are feeling well enough, Mrs. Lucilfer, you can hold your children and feed them if you wish. Any pain medication is already out of your system and it is typically recommended that new mothers nurse so the infant can begin building up antibodies."

You nodded, holding your arms out to the nurse that held the fussing child, the other nurse handing off the second infant to Chrollo. The first nurse gently transfered the complaining infant into your arms, the bright pink blanket oddly contrasting the white sterile environment. Likewise, the pale blue blanket seemed almost out of place when put with Chrollo, his pale skin and dark aesthetic seeming unusual in contrast to the blanket.

A boy and a girl. Your little twins.

The child in Chrollo's arms had yet to fuss or make much of any noise, instead being fast asleep in your husband's arms. The boy looked quite strikingly like Chrollo, black hair already atop the child's head in a messy fashion. The girl you held, however, looked nothing like the man you loved and married.

The girl had flame red hair that was surprisingly mostly grown in atop her tiny head, eyes like liquid gold staring up at you pleadingly. For a moment, you hesitated to do anything to soothe the infant, seeing only your attacker staring back at you. You pushed these thoughts aside, firmly reminding yourself that she wasn't him and she wasn't just his child, she was your's as well.

After the slight moment of hesitation, you brought your daughter close and shifted the cover you wore just enough that she could latch on. Her fussing quickly stopped and she became calm once more, settling in your arms and quietly nursing. You looked over at Chrollo, his eyes had been fixed on that bright red hair as he held his son protectively.

"... She looks like him."

"Yes, she does... And he looks like you."

"What do you want to name them?"

"... Well, we already agreed that if we had a boy, he would be named Kumoryu and if we had a girl she would be named Himetsu. We have both so we can name both what we planned."

"Kumoryu and Himetsu... Alright then. The two new spiders of the troupe."

Chrollo handed Kumoryu off to you as the infant began to stir and fuss in his arms, whining in hunger. You smiled when both infants were quietly nursing and finally it felt like you could breathe for the first time in who knows how long. Chrollo seemed to be sticking to his word and though Himetsu shared traits with your attacker, Chrollo still seemed to regard her as his daughter.

At least you had a moment to finally rest. You could deal with the Troupe and everything else later. For the time being, you just wanted to be with your family for a little while and feel 'normal' for the first time since Chrollo took you away from your old life. It wasn't much, but they were still your's.

Your family.