#and yet. people are cheering & crying 'endearing' over a scene | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grimmweepers · 1 month ago

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even before i started reading i was SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG at the content tags. it’s so up my alley and i knew i was going to love this. i wish i could idk take this all in and rub it all over my body and eat it hehe.

but courtney!!!! where has your writing been all my life!! i can’t believe this is your first time writing sukuna. you write him so amazingly and you have such an eloquent way of setting the scene and describing feelings that i just feel so immersed. it genuinely feels like i’m getting pulled away when i have to stop reading. and a whopping 8.3k words… you have spoiled me 🥹💖

i also really appreciate how you characterised reader (me… i can’t believe it!!!). every dialogue reader says just has me nodding and agreeing and cheering her on because i, too, would say those things. while i was reading i made a list of parts that made me unwell /pos because i tend to do that when i read and if you do not mind, it does involve screaming so be prepared !!!! :

They carry the weight of something unspoken a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity it will not be done poorly.”

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate

HE IS SO LOVING IN THE MOST SUBTLE AND SUKUNA-ESQUE WAYS IM SO GOOEY RN!!!!!!

i’ll just be including this entire thing because it’s so beautifully written and i still can’t believe it’s about me.

YOU ARE SO THOUGHTFUL AND I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW I ACKNOWLEDGE AND AM OBSESSED WITH THESE EASTER EGGS. love changes people and if this isn’t the most crystal clear form of proof….

the whole hansel and gretel scene made me giggle. his nodding of approval when they spoke about eating the kids and luring them in lmfaooo!!!! i’m crying KGVAJAHAAJABNWJWAHAN and i love the way you characterised his tummy mouth to be like a lil puppy. it almost makes it endearing, especially imagining it dusted with cookie crumbs and frosting hehe so silly

“This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

I LAUGHED OUT LOUD

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

ANOTHER FAVE. he can sound like such a baby sometimes HAHAHAHHAHAAH poor ‘kuna getting hot and bothered by christmas

OH AND THE PART AT THE SOFA WHERE WE WHERE WE WHERE WE AHGQBAJFQBHANHABAJQHQBWNJQVABAJWHWVWBJWHWBWKJWBWNWKWJWBWNWKHWBWNWJWBWBWJWJBW WJWJWBWNWJWJWBW SKWKWJBWWKWK sigh that’s all i have to say about that

AND WAIT THERES MORE…. WITH HIS TUMMY TONGUE KISSING ME NOW HFFGABAJAJQHABAJAJBANAKAJABAJAKAJANP. that scene was so absolutely HOT. it’s only 12:30pm here but i just woke up and wow what a way to start the day. i never thought i’d say this but sukuna is so adorable trying to guess what i’m gifting him

OH MH GOD HE GIFTED ME PERFUMEEEEEEEEEE THAT HE CRAFTED HIMSELF AND IT SOUNDS SO PERFECT AND ETHEREAL I WISHED I HAD IT IN MY HANDS RIGHT THIS INSTANCE 😭😭😭 the blends the notes - i wish it were real. courtney this is the best!!!!!

“You see me,” he finally speaks, uncharacteristically hushed. You see him—demon and protector, destroyer and creator, ancient force and the being who has learned to nestle mortal joy in hands only meant for destruction

the sheer rawness in this paragraph. i’m in awe. i’m also hushed because the way you write makes me cry. you really explain him in the same way i view him :(

“And I see you, Ryu.”

AND WHAT IF I DIED WHAT THEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM TEARING UP. THIS IS TERRIBLE. MY HEART IS JUMPING OUT OF MY CHEST

The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

hehe what can i say… spiders scare me… monsters don’t … like sukuna

AHFDHFHFJJGBA AND THE END. thank you so so so so much for the gift. i can tell you really did your research and i am eternally grateful and will be keeping this close to my wee heart. i don’t talk about sukuna all that often anymore but he was my first ship and first comm ever EVER! so he will always remain special to me. and lately i’ve been feeling a little doubtful about that ship. only because i begin to wonder if our personalities would even mesh well which would inevitably lead to me getting insecure about sukuna becoming soft for me. but the fic - your gift - showed me that even after all these years, ryukuna can still work. that he can love me. and that i can love him while still being myself. i’m so sorry this is so rambly and long. i woke up with my heart a lil heavier today for unrelated reasons but this just made me feel 1999999616161881 times better. you have such a way with words that scratches an itch in my brain and i know i will be coming back to this when i miss sukuna or when i’m feeling sad. every time you referred to me as Queen i get a little giddy. because even without sukuna, that is the type of confidence i should have. that’s how i should see myself. i am a fiery woman by nature so it’s a huge affirmation seeing myself depicted this way. in fact reading this might give me the confidence to talk about him more and even write about him again. what a wonderful thing gifts can be :[

courtney thank you for your time and kindness and thoughtfulness and talent and all of the above ! may YOU have a merry christmas and may YOUR heart always be full <3 i am elated!! on cloud 9!!

Merry Christmas from my little corner at the @pixelcafe-network. Thank you so much for hosting this gift exchange! I had so much fun writing this for my elf @grimmweepers. Your Christmas list gave me the opportunity to write Sukuna for the first time. I wanted to lean as much into your likes as much as possible so that it feels like it's you in this story.

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: True Form!Sukuna x Reader (Ryu)

Rating/CW: slight dark romance, fluff, implied sexual content, dark themes (references to violence, blood, destruction, and a hint of cannibalism because it's Sukuna). MDNI!

WC: ~8.5K

Summary: Sukuna gives in to mortal festivities, for the promise of a worthy gift, unaware that some traditions leave marks deeper than ancient power.

Divider: @cyberbeat @arminsumi @firefly-graphics

The winter night drapes itself across the ancient estate, stars scattered above like diamonds on black velvet. Fresh snow has transformed this formidable domain into something almost magical—though no amount of pristine white can truly soften the centuries of power that seems to pulse through every shadow of the grounds.

You used to take these walks alone, finding solace in the environment that gave way to the shifting change of the seasons. But now, on this chilly and almost silent night, your solitary footprints are accompanied by another. Deeper, more commanding treads belong to Sukuna, whose very presence seems to make the stars above burn brighter, as if they, too, acknowledge the power that moves beneath them, feeding off the cursed energy he emits with every breath.

Your exhale forms a frosty white cloud before vanishing into the night air. It’s cold, far too cold for a walk, but you’re out here to clear your thoughts, to quell the overwhelming urge to ask Sukuna a question that you don’t want to imagine the answer to.

The thought first emerged when fall gave way to winter, the autumn leaves replaced by the starkness of bare branches now hidden beneath blankets of snow. The thought of markets late at night adorned in yellow lights, of hot cocoa and gifts wrapped in red ribbon.

The words, having coiled behind your teeth for days like a spring, finally slink past your lips. “I was thinking…what if we celebrated Christmas together?”

“Christmas.” The word leaves his mouth not as a question, but as if it’s not worth inflection.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting your rolling anxiety. He’s never been one for new things. This is his domain, after all—his home, his formidable walls that he has erected and ruled with an iron fist. The mere thought of anyone—let alone a mortal—suggesting something outside his design is almost laughable.

You pause in your footsteps, tracing his looming shadow in the snow before you look up at him. He’s tall, looming with a height that comes not from this realm, his silhouette dwarfing everything around him. While you are covered in furs and wool and warmth, he stands in a simple black Haori, barely covering his skin and open to show his chest.

The dark markings of his tattoos glow like black embers in the moonlight, each one a testament to the ancient power that pulses beneath his skin. Two pairs of muscular arms fold across his chest, large and thrumming with strength. An archaic strength that can level cities and destroy with little effort, yet those same fearsome arms cradle you with unexpected gentleness in the depths of night.

The fact that you understand this side of Sukuna, gives you the strength to press on.

“It’ll be our first Christmas together,” you press.

“A mortal festivity,” he claps back, naturally sharp but with little heat.

“I’m a mortal,” you counter, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the menacing glare you can see right through. “And from what I remember, I am your Queen.”

Quadruple crimson eyes narrow from your truthful declaration, their glow cutting through the frost-laden air like embers in the snow. The two on the right gleam brighter against the rough texture of his half-petrified cheek, like jagged stone contrasting with smooth flesh on the other side. “You mistake indulgence for approval.”

You shrug, nonplussed, sniffing the chilly air up your runny nose. “Then indulge me. Mortals, like myself, put up Christmas trees, decorate their homes, bake treats, and watch movies.”

He hums, taking a step toward you. As he draws closer, the air shifts. While you have no cursed energy, you’ve come to know his intimately. It presses against your skin like an unseen force, electric and stifling, its movements mirroring the emotions he tries to smother. You’ve learned to read it like your favorite book, though it’s a story only you seem privy to, and you don’t intend to let him know.

“Indulge me?” you try again.

He remains unconvinced, his characteristic indifference plucking at your cold skin as you look up at him unflinching. It’s not like he denies you often. Sukuna, for as powerful as he is, gives to your many asks with a wave of his hand as if your happiness is unwarranted, even if his gaze flickers to you minutely for praise at haven catered to you.

Your confidence has only grown steadily, but that anxiety that curls around an ask still tastes sour. So you pull out another mental note card, a line you practiced in the mirror for days for this very moment.

“Gift-giving is also another tradition,” you sigh in faux nonchalance, pursing your dry lips as you try to ignore the flicker of curiosity you see on his face. The subtle tick of his jaw, the way one of his eyes tightens just so, the feel of his cursed energy pausing in its movements as if to hear you more clearly. “I know you’d never turn down any sort of offering. Especially from your Queen.”

Only seconds of anxious silence pass before that deep hum permeates the air, a gentle give. “You use that title often, Ryu.” You shrug again, biting the flesh of your cheek to suppress the victorious smile you can feel in your muscles. “Why must I wait for a specific day of the year to receive a gift? I can simply take what I want with little effort.”

His hubris knows no bounds. Neither does your perseverance.

“You put up with a few days of Christmas cheer, and I’ll make sure you get the best gift ever. Something wonderful and fitting for the King of Curses,” you promise, hoping to bring him home with your sales pitch. “But no griping.”

Sukuna scoffs, indignation heavy in the sound as he puffs white smoke into the air. “I do not gripe.” The look you throw him is unimpressed; one brow arched in a silent challenge that grants you a narrowed-eyed glare of concession in return. “Why do you assume you will get what you want?”

He reaches for you as he complains, and despite his sharp tone, you lean into the weight of his touch. You’ve come to know the language of his hands, each gesture a revelation of the complex nature he embodies. Like now, as he adjusts the furs draped around your shoulders—precious things hunted and skinned himself. His movements are deliberate, with hands impossibly gentle despite their proven capacity for destruction.

“Because you see me,” you whisper, the words soft but heavy with meaning. They carry the weight of something unspoken, a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice—your understanding of his care beneath his praise, his protection weaved into his possession.

A sales pitch now seems trivial, disrespectful even, in light of how the tone has shifted around you. Shame prickles at your skin, but it fades just as quickly, overwhelmed by the truth of your words. You do see him, even when he's being stubborn.

Sukuna’s answering hum to your question—to the anxious worry that started this conversation—reverberates through the air, an unspoken approval that settles in the space between you both.

Days later, the skies bloom with gentle hues of cotton candy—pale blue and pastel pink, slowly darkening as the sun peeks on the horizon. The dawn of winter greets you with its chilly embrace, its breath sharp and unrelenting, its touch frostbitten. You’re bleary-eyed as you shuffle over broken branches and moss-covered paths in the East forest.

The weight of your determination keeps you moving, even as your body protests, regretting your tenacity because why would Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, buy a tree when he can simply ‘get one from the backyard.’

“I like that one,” you offer, shakily pointing with a heavily gloved finger at a modest six-footer, its snow-laden branches slumping under the weight.

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity, it will not be done poorly.”

You’re far too cold to point out his first gripe of the day. His voice carries that familiar edge, but beneath it rests a note that only you can hear—the same careful attention he uses when observing the movements of his enemies, now turned to the expansive forest to the east of his estate.

You close your mouth around an exhale, your cheeks puffing like a fish in your own rendition of a pout as you follow him. The forest stretches silent and vast around you, a living extension of how far his power goes. Sukuna stops abruptly, still as stone as he surveys the trees with a menacing gaze. The dominance he exudes seems to make the air itself hold its breath. You’re simply a spectator—watching an apex predator stalk its prey—it would be a marvelous sight if you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“This one,” he declares at last, voice carrying the familiarity of pride and authority as he looks up at a magnificent pine.

It’s uncharacteristically different in every way; a shadow brown trunk as thick as his waist, strong branches that house deep green needles, forming their own canopy over the other and covered in the white blanket of snow. Its towering height practically pierces the sky, a physical representation of how the being in front of you sees himself—ambivalent and all-seeing.

With a flick of two fingers, Sukuna’s Cleave technique slices cleanly through the thick trunk. The looming pine shivers, snow plopping from its arms in white globs before it slowly falls to the ground with a muffled thud. The wind that picks up from the disturbance tousles his pink hair, strands whipping against his marked face. One of Sukuna’s muscular arms grabs his prize and effortlessly hoists it onto his shoulder.

You can’t help but admire the broad expanse of his back. The curve and dip of muscle against black markings that shift with each movement, the skin warm to the touch despite how cold he makes himself seem.

The sight of him makes you think of his Christmas gift—your secret project—the fabric carefully chosen to embrace that strength with something just as enduring. You wonder if he will notice the details, the painstaking intricacy you’ve chosen just for him.

His gift is soon forgotten when his gaze falls on you, an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Carmine pools that invite you to step closer and gaze beneath its liquid, to see small slivers of vulnerability presented in the form of the pine on his shoulders. He’s waiting, expecting not praise for his strength, but praise for what he has provided. An offering.

You smile gently, genuinely, and without quivering despite the temperature. “I love it,” you compliment, watching as your words card over his offering like a caress that only fans the flames of his pride. His belly mouth curves into a smirk, chuffed in agreement with its host, white teeth glistening and ghostly breath puffing in steaming plumes.

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you, tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate, his unspoken need for you to get warm carving a smile onto your face.

In Sukuna’s vast estate, where shadows roam, and servants move with silent reverence, there is no room for joviality and merriment. He rules unflinchingly, with a face usually etched in disinterest and a heart that beats only in the throes of violence and battle. But since you’ve set foot in his domain that he keeps dark and teeming with fear, things have changed.

Now, the halls carry the scent of your vast perfume collection, a blend of smoky oud and earthy florals that linger in the air long after you pass. The servants, once bound by fear, now offer gentle smiles to the mortal who goes against the rules of this cursed realm.

Now, the shadows walk with you, satisfying your thirst for the paranormal as they follow you like a silent watchdog, a testament to the orders of their master—a being with four arms, four eyes, and a grudging acceptance of your presence.

Now, the mortal who carved her way into Sukuna’s domain with hardly a blink, the mortal who can see beneath his veneer of bleach-white bone and hardened blood…

Now… that mortal has decided to bring Christmas to these ancient halls.

Darkness now flickers with light. Pine garland decorates the windowsills in the expansive front room of Sukuna’s estate, its sharp scent striking through the air with every brush of your fingertips along its needles. The front room, what was once empty and meant only as a tunnel to another destination, is now lively from your touch.

A tall fireplace, its mantle wrapped in garlands of cypress and silk ribbons the color of deep red wine that reminds you of his eyes, casts a warm glow over goblet-red curtains that frame looming windows and fur-lined chairs that you curl into when you read your many books.

Sukuna has molded his domain to fit your silent requests. Your Christmas spirit that Sukuna continues to entertain if only for the promise of his reward, breathes life. His spoils—the cleaved pine—stands proudly by the fireplace, its branches wrapped in shining white lights and delicate ornaments.

Uraume was diligent, while unwilling to entertain anything pertaining to mortals, their loyalty outshines their disinterest when it comes to their Queen. Said loyalty shines in the snow that rests on each emerald branch, crystalline shimmers colored amber and orange from the roaring flames of the fireplace. Their technique ensures it will never melt, an ethereal touch of winter preserved.

You can’t help the warm smile that graces your features as you admire the transformed space. But it’s the scents wafting from the kitchen that draw you from your admiration. Cinnamon and nutmeg dance with something darker, a metallic tang that speaks to how well you’ve learned to blend your world with his.

Uraume, for as menacing as a curse user they are, has the cooking skills worthy of Michelin praise. The kitchen is their sacred domain but is now a battlefield of flour and spices, mortal and ancient alike. The heat from multiple ovens warms your bare toes, and copper pots and pans clank and steam with soluble renditions of a Christmas feast.

Sukuna’s dutiful servant moves about the kitchen with practiced ease, refusing help from the other cursed spirit-like servants in your presence no matter how many times you’ve insisted that you don’t mind.

“The consistency is correct,” Uraume observes, subtle praise in their soft tone as they nod toward the ruby liquid you’ve folded into dough. “Sukuna-sama will find it acceptable.”

You hide your smile at their careful choice of words. Months of coexistence have taught you to read the subtle ways in which Uraume expresses care—their meticulous attention to your recipes when cooking for you, your happiness from delicious meals enough to mask their fondness they will never admit to.

“We’re going to make gingerbread houses,” you exclaim an hour later to an indifferent Sukuna. His presence in the kitchen is rare, and you’ve had to ignore the peep of garbled eyes from cursed spirits who poke through the kitchen doors in disbelief before scuttling away in fear of being caught.

The counter is littered with cooled cutouts of gingerbread house walls, arches, and windows. White icing in pastry bags that will serve as glue and gumdrops to be adorned as paneling is the perfect setup for this small occasion between you both.

Despite Sukuna’s menacing demeanor, he is astute. It’s why he’s achieved the status he has now, why he’s feared among the world, both mortal plane and astral. So he wastes no time piecing together his own creation, his eyebrows creased in concentration fitting of a warrior planning a siege.

As Uraume flutters around you both, you recount the tale of Hansel and Gretel, Sukuna’s crimson eyes gleaming with interest at the more gruesome parts of the brothers Grimm.

“So this witch,” he muses, two hands delicately pipping white icing for a jagged wall, his other two hands covered in flour. “She devoured children who wandered into her domain.” His eyes twinkle with approval, his belly mouth curving into a devious smirk. “An acceptable response to trespassers.”

“She built the house to lure him in,” you add, swallowing a chuckle as you feel his cursed energy wiggle around you in interest. “That’s why it was made out of sweets.”

“Why did these children not become a proper meal?”

“They outsmarted her,” you explain, watching in muted supplication as his face drops from satisfaction to disapproval. “Pushed her into her own oven.”

His belly mouth scoffs, frowning as his thick tongue tastes the spiced air. “Mortals.”

As your special cookies perfume the air with metallic sweetness, you admire Sukuna as he works. He utilizes all four hands to guide his gingerbread creation to completion, clicking his teeth when a wall crumbles in his palms and humming in delight when the icing holds steady. Your gingerbread house lays half-created as you watch him, observing in silence until his masterpiece sits before you.

It’s a fortress—walls as imposing as a cathedral’s, windows designed to daze would-be escapees. The path to the door winds hypnotically, sugar-crystal steps that seem to pulse with cursed energy, leading young feet exactly where he wants them. The final touch? Miniature figurines made of pretzel sticks and marshmallows that are arranged at the front door like an offering.

“The witch’s failure was in her execution, not her concept,” he declares. Where normal gingerbread houses invite warmth, his promises something darker—a blend of Christmas tradition and Sukuna’s deadlier inclinations. “No child would think to check for a secondary barrier here.” He speaks as if defending a dissertation, pointing to the candy canes that could easily become weapons instead of the holiday cheer they should represent.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, soft and genuine, as you admire his evil architecture. Four eyes find you immediately, piercing in their gaze as if defensive, yet still holding something akin to wanting your approval. Your hand finds his marked cheek, fingers tracing the tattoos that mirror all over his body. He leans into your touch with imperial indifference, wary of Uraume’s presence in the kitchen but not indignant enough to deny your warmth.

“A domain worth of the King of Curses,” you praise, watching how his belly mouth curves into the wide grin that his master does not offer. It’s more than enough to know he’s satisfied.

“And why is yours unfinished?” Sukuna asks, crossing his arms in mock reproach despite the splattering of flour on his skin and Haori. “Surely, my Queen will make something of equal likeness.”

The oven behind you dings before you can reply, and Uraume retrieves your treat, the aroma rich and spiced. You slide the steaming plate between you, the burgundy cookies still piping hot and ready for him.

“I had other priorities,” you supply, blowing on your fingers before you offer a cookie to his belly mouth. It opens wide, tongue lolling to the side like a panting dog and already watering before you place the cookie on his taste buds. He chomps loudly, sharp teeth devouring the concoction of ginger, blood, and aged spices from Uraume’s private garden—a perfect blend of your world and his. His cursed energy warms, wrapping around your waist in approval as Sukuna throws cookies into his own mouth now.

“Is this my gift?” is all he asks, satisfied but ever impatient as he and his stomach finish the plate. You don’t resist the eye roll. “It’s a very acceptable gift. However, I wouldn’t have entertained Christmas if you only wanted to cook.”

“It’s not your gift Sukuna.” You wave him off, snatching the now empty plate before his belly mouth’s tongue can lick at the blood crumbs, another heaping plate taking its place that Uraume leaves. “And don’t try to guess. You won’t get very far.”

“Hm.” He leans back slightly, one of his hands reaching to dust flour from his forearm. You roll your eyes again, choosing instead to finish your gingerbread house while he sulks. “Then it must be something more…significant. Ancient scrolls, perhaps? Found deep within forgotten temples, imbued with curses?” His voice drips with mock curiosity as if daring you to reveal even the slightest clue.

You snort, pausing mid-pipe to give him a flat look. “First of all, ancient scrolls? Really, Sukuna?” His belly mouth grumbles at being ignored, lips covered in a red dusting of cookie smacking for more. “Second of all, what would I be doing roaming around a temple? This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, more intrigued than annoyed by your commentary. “So I am wrong?”

“Completely,” you answer, biting back another laugh as you return to your task of piping green icing along a gingerbread wall to resemble bushels of grass. “Do you think your gift revolves around curses and destruction?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” he counters smoothly, his tone smug and his gaze unwavering.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the nth time in only so many minutes, feeling the warmth of his cursed energy curling around your waist again, tugging at you like a child pulling his mother’s sleeve for attention. “Just eat your cookies and stop guessing, Sukuna. You’re nowhere close.”

His belly mouth snickers as Sukuna throws another cookie into it, but his narrowed gaze lingers on you as if memorizing every shift in your expression, every subtle movement of your hands, waiting for you to slip. You have a feeling that even though Christmas is only days away, his curiosity will make it seem like an eternity.

As he often says, Sukuna indulges for you quite often. Trivial mortal instruments meant to stave off your boredom. He tells himself it’s for his own peace, to keep you from pestering him in the throne room, even though he still searches for you and longs for your presence in his lap.

One of those mortal instruments? A television. He knows what they are but has never been bothered to pay attention—an invention he dismissed as frivolous and mind-numbing. The flickering screen is often a source of laughter and comfort on one of your sleepless nights, and though he swore to never sit beside you while it played, here he is. On Christmas Eve. Reclined casually on the expansive sofa in your chambers, a disdainful sneer aimed at the annoying mortal known as ‘Buddy the Elf’, judgment radiating from his very being.

“Ryu, you cannot possibly enjoy this,” he huffs, one hand picking at nonexistent lint on his linen pants, another draped over the back of the couch, and one more cradling your soft form against him.

“Elf is a Christmas tradition!” You insist, handing a heaping hand of buttery popcorn to his belly mouth who accepts with a please grumble. Unlike Sukuna, who prefers a more…carnivorous diet, his belly mouth will eat almost anything it is fed. You chuckle softly, laying your head on his naked chest as you both watch Buddy decorate the department store into a winter wonderland. "I love it."

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

“I thought you agreed not to grumble.”

“I never agreed.”

You hide your smile in the warmth of Sukuna’s side, breathing in the familiar aroma of burnt incense that clings to his skin, grounding and intoxicating. The movie plays on, you enjoying, while Sukuna analyzes each scene with the precision he’d use to raze a village. He won’t admit what he’s been reduced to—a powerful being indulging in idiotic entertainment to please the mortal lady of his estate. All for a gift that he cannot guess.

You trace idle patterns on his marked arm. Each touch makes his cursed energy flutter beneath your fingertips, electric kisses on your skin that he pretends not to notice. These are the moments you love most—when the fearsome King of Curses allows himself to simply…exist beside you, his pride softened by the peace you often bring.

“A weapon,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through Buddy and Jovie’s shower singing.

You blink, craning your neck to look up at him. “What?”

He gestures expectantly to the room around him. “You’ve found a weapon worthy of my domain.”

You should have known the moment he stopped complaining about the movie that his attention had drifted. The fact that this is what he is thinking about makes warmth bloom in your chest. “Are you guessing?”

“I do not guess,” he insists, glowering at the television to avoid looking at you, his curiosity-tinged cursed energy betraying him. “I deduce.”

A weapon would be fitting for someone like him—his strength, his dominance, his endless hunger for power. But it’s a far cry from what he will get. You throw more popcorn into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at just how wrong he truly is.

He’s silent only for a moment before he adds. “Why must I wait until tomorrow, when you can simply tell me now?” His logic is, as usual, rooted in authority and impatience. You chew another handful of popcorn deliberately, ignoring him as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

Not even five minutes pass before one of his large hands brushes against the nape of your neck. His fingers card through your hair, tugging the strands—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You know what he’s doing. His touch feels like a predator sneakily luring in prey. You know this game—this is Sukuna feigning boredom because he’s curious, using seduction to coax you when you’re being stubborn. It’s as effective as it is dangerous. But this time, you’re prepared.

“If you’re going to ignore the movie,” you trail off, your voice a mix of seductive challenge and amusement. You twist in his lap to straddle his waist, sliding your hands up his chest, tracing your fingers around his nipples in slow, deliberate circles. He does not react, at least not on his face. But you can feel the imperceptible jut of his hips, feel his cursed energy hum up your calves, and wrap around your body like a warm fog.

“I know of something else we can do.” You’re suggestive, voice dropping to the pits of your stomach as your lips brush along the sharp edge of his jaw. The shift in power is immediate, and exactly what you want. His hands tighten on your waist, head tilting slightly, giving you better access to lavish him with praise.

“Is that so?” His voice is pitched low, heady already. “Anything is better than this drivel.”

You roll your eyes as you fall back on the sofa, your body arching under his touch as he pulls you closer. Your hand slides lower, tracing the edge of his haori where it hangs loose against his skin.

“You’re impatient as usual,” you whisper, nipping lightly at his neck. “But you’ll wait this time. Won’t you?”

His eyes narrow as if in protest. But he doesn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, his hands roam your body, each touch firm and possessive. You grin against his skin, knowing you’ve managed to distract him…at least for now.

“A temple,” his voice rumbles through the darkness, shaking you from the deep edges of sleep. His massive form curves around you possessively, his warmth seeping into your skin. Both of you lie tangled in the aftermath of your earlier indulgences—the sofa, the wall, and, finally, the silk sheets of his bed. All bearing witness to his insatiable need for you.

“Mmm?” you mumble, still trying to pull yourself awake.

“Built in my honor,” he elaborates without repeating himself, shaking you again with a harshness that makes you yelp and throw a glare over your shoulder. He smirks to himself as if he’s finally solved the mystery. “That is my gift.”

You groan, burying your face in your pillow, but secretly relishing in the way he can’t seem to let this go. Rolling over halfway, you peek up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. The moonlight creates a shimmering backdrop, outlining his form with silver, blood-red eyes gleaming with determination. For someone who claims to have no interest in mortal traditions, he’s relentless about this one.

“You woke me up to guess….again,” you grumble, glaring at him through a half-open eye.

“I do not guess,” he starts, ready to repeat the same phrase from hours ago. “I simply—”

“Deduce, yes, I got that the first time.” You cut him off and surge up to give him a kiss, feeling his surprise for only seconds before he melts into your affection. “Go to sleep.”

“A secret text,” he murmurs against your lips, undeterred even as his arms pull you closer. “Written in blood.”

You grimace before answering with your lips on his again, your leg curling around a thick waist, ready to use the ammo from your arsenal just like a few hours ago. “Do I need to distract you again?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

The midnight air watches with bated breath as Sukuna rolls on top of you, his towering frame rousing the tingle between your legs.

“I know your method of distraction,” he whispers against the skin of your neck. His belly mouth kisses the skin of your inner thigh, licking its lips at the promise of what you might offer if you’re willing. “Considering you are no novice, one might think that you keep secrets from your King often.”

Your affronted laugh dissolves into a sigh as both stomach and Sukuna adorn your skin with wet kisses—one along the vein of your pelvis while the other works at the skin behind your ear. “O-one might think,” you manage, gasping as his mouth finds the pulse in your neck, “that my King is simply impatient for Christmas morning.”

“It is already past midnight,” he growls at the feel of your touch drifting lower, his cocks already throbbing and oozing precum. “Merry Christmas.”

“A proper Christmas morning!” you correct with a chortle, smacking his chest playfully. He hums noncommittally, the sound vibrating through you both, possessive and yet tender in a way that only you are privy to. “A few more hours. Let me wake up properly.”

With those final words, you promptly roll over, denying him any more sensual touch that could ignite the early morning. Sukuna, used to your defiance, simply grumbles at your withdrawal, choosing instead to press searing kisses along the naked skin of your back. They ignite the embers in your belly but are not persistent enough to tempt you further.

“A domain expansion,” he insists, inhaling the perfume at the dip of your spine, lips brushing the soft skin there.

“I can’t even do that.” Your voice is heavy, the dredges of sleep finally pulling at your consciousness.

“More blood cookies.”

You remain silent, using his solemn guesses as music to lull you back to sleep.

Sukuna can feel your presence even deep in sleep, his cursed energy wound tightly around you like a second skin, always attuned to your warmth, your breath, the way you shift beneath the covers. So when that connection shivers—when his energy touches only empty space—his crimson eyes snap open. Your side of the bed is still warm, a ghost of you lingering on his silk sheets.

He can still feel you in the estate, so he rises slowly, surveying his chamber. He takes in the transformation--the pine and silk ribbons that are around the mantle now present in his chambers, and the smell of cider and blood cookies that still wafts in the air around him. Resting along one wall is a beautiful vanity carved from marble with obsidian-lined mirrors and velvet surfaces adorned with your plethora of fragrances. The table near his window is littered with books, a speaker—another mortal instrument—rests quietly, no classical music that you enjoy playing.

His room—once untouchable, dark, and sacred—is now infused with you. It should feel like a violation, his personal sanctum defiled with the touch of a mortal. And yet.

His body is no longer cold in the halls because you thrive in warmth. His servants may bow in fear to him, but they smile at you. Shadows, once tools of terror, are now a source of protection and amusement, a manic gleam of fascination with the otherwordly preventing you from being fearful.

His emotions are still a mystery, but slowly unfurling like petals that have been sleeping for many winters. Anything besides strength and power, besides determination and tenacity are weak—should be weak. But you feel these emotions plenty, and to Ryomen Sukuna, you are far from weak.

The soft yellow lights from the pine tree spill against the floor, welcoming his bare feet as he enters the large living room that has come to life because of you and for you. He won’t admit it out loud, the pride that surges through his chest like a rushing wave when he looks at the tree. A pagan symbol meant to honor a god that is not himself, willingly brought into his domain by his own hand, a rare sight in his forest that only his eye could catch. He cleaved it. He carried it upon his shoulders. He cupped the approval in your eyes like water in a shallow pool in a drying desert, sacred and coveted.

His efforts have become yours, decorated in tinsel and ornaments, in obnoxiously bright lights and snow that will never melt. And you sit next to it, your silhouette glowing against the roaring fireplace, your gaze looking up at what he’s allowed you to have. You noticed his presence long ago, but you remain transfixed with the tree, a soft smile gracing your features as he draws closer.

“It is far too early,” he rumbles, his voice gentle but heavy in the silent Christmas air. “Come back to bed.”

You huff in reply, not bothering to offer words even as he sinks down next to you. His arms crossed over his chest, his legs folding in to sit with grace on the fur-covered floor. This close, he can smell another fragrance that you collect, a smoky Oud that coats your skin like a second skin.

It’s one of his favorites, yet another thing he will not admit, but you know. You know from the way he buries his face in your neck at night, his chambers shrouded in darkness beside the slanting of moonlight on his sheets, his cursed energy caressing your skin in appreciation.

“It’s a great tree, you know,” you sigh, wistfully. You hope to keep the tree up and lit long after Christmas passes. It’s a wonderful sight, a depiction of a past life before you became aware of the unknown, of curses and spirits, sorcery and realms besides Heaven and Hell. To see it now, in the domain of a powerful king, shining brightly as if the one who cut it down did not have four arms and eyes. “It’s strong…resilient.”

“Of course it is. Who do you take me for?” he snaps, tone not holding any heat as his sharp gaze looks at you from head to toe. He leans imperceptibly into you when you laugh, a sound that shakes from your robe-covered chest and into the warm air, the shadows catching it as if they are fireflies in the night.

You finally pull your gaze from the tree, looking to Sukuna and he refuses to let you hear the hitch in his breath. He refuses to tighten his jaw or let you hear the click of bone as he fights the urge to openly bask in your gaze. “I have something for you.”

You grab a box beneath the tree, the only object that decorates the skirt. You’re climbing into his large lap before he can protest, willingly invading his space without fear of the consequences. For others, a swift death. For you, a subconscious shift in his form, one of his arms falling behind you and hitching along your hip to steady you on his thigh.

“I hope you like it,” you muse, shrugging with indifference to shield your anticipation. “I know "human sentiments" are not your specialty.”

The hands not holding your back trace along the red ribbon, silky soft and tied neatly by you. But before you can push the box more insistently into his hold, his hands slide under yours, firmly stilling your movements.

One of his hands reaches behind his back, his form shifting closer before he presents you with his own box. It’s smaller than yours, crafted in dark, polished wood, the flames from the fireplace glimmering along the surface.

“How can I let you meddle and not have anything to counter it with?” It’s all Sukuna offers, tone low and edged with something warmer than usual. He places the box in your hands, his gaze heavy on your face as though waiting for a reaction. Truly, the thought of him getting you something had not crossed your mind. Sukuna seemed more than willing to put up with your holiday antics if only to get something in return. So the weight of the box in your hands, cool against your palm, feels substantial.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid, the dark wood creaking softly. Nestled inside a bed of rich blue velvet, is something that steals the breath from your lungs. It gleams against the firelight as you pick it up, its crystal surface refracting shards of gold and crimson that dance across your body. The shape is elegant yet otherworldly, the surface etched with markings that you’ve come to see throughout his estate. A stopper made of black Onyx crowns it, carved into a teardrop that you pinch and pull to open.

The scent curls into the air, smoothing beneath your nostrils in a delicate yet commanding embrace. It’s sharp at first, with notes of what you recognize as juniper and lemon, fresh and crisp like the frost that curls on the windows in your chamber. You’re an expert in fragrance, so it doesn’t take you long to detect the undercurrent of bergamot and pepper, adding an edge that’s reminiscent of Sukuna’s power—lurking beneath the surface.

It seems as if the notes are never-ending. Pine needles and incense weave into a rich, earthy warmth, like the forest you both walked through to cut down the decorated pine that rests behind you. Amber and balsam provide a sweetness that lingers with its base notes and a touch of vanilla. Finally, the richness of cinnamon adds a spicy conclusion, as if kissing your skin before it fades into the morning air.

“You didn’t,” you begin, mouth suddenly dry, your eyes quite the opposite. “You made this…?”

“Do you think anyone else could, Ryu?” he counters, his tone holding a rare softness that you wish you were more levelheaded to preserve forever. A hand not resting on your back drifts along your shoulder blades, caressing in a mixture of observance and reverence. “It is yours.”

Like everything else in this domain.

That is what he wants to add. Is what curls at the tip of his tongue. But he uses your fluttering eyelashes to distract that urge that throbs in his chest. Uses the sight of you resting the perfume carefully back in its velvet encasing before closing the wooden box as if it might break.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally whisper, uncaring of how shaky you sound. The gift is uniquely Sukuna, deeply reflecting his essence but still having you in mind. “Thank you.”

He offers that characteristic hum, rumbling through your body and clenching around your heart with a force he’s not yet ready to acknowledge. His belly mouth curves into a smug grin, but his eyes are still on you as if searching for something.

“Another example of my indulgence that you mistake for generosity.”

The way his cursed energy hums around you, warm and protective, tells you otherwise. And it only serves to make you laugh, finally wiping the tears from your cheeks and gently setting the wooden box on the fur rug beneath you both.

“Uh huh,” you tease, snickering at his frown you can see right through. You finally pick up your box, the surface warmed by the fire, now resting in his hands. The teasing air around you both falls to the wayside, hushed anticipation taking its place.

He’s spent days pestering you about what he would get, and now, with you on his lap and his massive hands cradling the box with unexpected gentleness, his curiosity morphs into something else. A prize he’s excited to have and now afraid to open. Not in fear—Sukuna has no room for fear—but in anticipation.

It takes everything in you not to snatch the box and open it yourself, but eventually, he does, and the purse of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes fall before you like a book as old as time finally opening.

The silk is as dark as the shadows that roam these halls, shimmering like oil in water as it slides along Sukuna’s thick fingers. To anyone else, the material would simply be silk. But to Sukuna, he can feel the cursed energy that pulses along it, no doubt stitched together with a cursed thread strong enough to embrace him and yet still soft to the touch.

You had no way to conjure or control cursed energy to weave into the fabric, so you had to turn to Uraume for help. Their frosty hands had guided yours, harnessing the cursed energy necessary for you as you wove the threads, ensuring the haori could hold the weight of Sukuna’s power while remaining as delicate as the intentions behind it.

The silk mirrors the intricate markings on his skin, its edges dyed in gradients of shadow and blood.

“It’s a Haori,” you finally speak, soft and given space so he can observe his gift without hurry. “It’s all you really wear, so I thought crafting something of my own would be….nice.”

Words gather on his tongue, and then scatter like leaves in a storm, too feeble to express the weight of what he feels. He knows that a simple hum of approval won’t be enough—not this time. Not for you. But as he readies himself to speak, opening his mouth just so, his breath catches when he looks inside one of the sleeves.

The inner lining is adorned with ancient symbols sewn in patterns only he would recognize, the same ones you’ve felt him trace in the air around you when he thinks you’re sleeping, offering protection for when he cannot be near you. They shimmer faintly, their glow deepening in the shadowed folds of silk and fading when touched by light—a testament to the darkness he commands and the solace he finds within it.

“Ryu—”

“At least put it on,” you interrupt, voice slightly shaky and betraying your exposed nerves. You hold the garment delicately, taking it from him and helping each arm through the sleeves. The silk moves like smoke around his massive form, designed to accommodate while maintaining the elegant lines that befit a being of his stature. Your eyes are on his skin, focused on the hem of his lapels as you trace over it and rest your hand on his chest.

“There,” you whisper, smiling but not looking up at him. His heart is steady beneath your palm, not fluttering like a bird in a cage, and you’re not sure whether to be upset that your gift doesn’t make his heart race. “It looks good on you.”

It fits him perfectly and thrums with a warmth that echoes the temperature blooming in his chest. That three-letter phrase—that elusive word that’s made his lip curl in disgust since the beginning of time, now pounds in his ears from the garment that sits on his skin.

It’s not just a garment—it’s an acknowledgment of who he is in his truest form, a declaration that you see his beauty in both his power and his evolution. The way it drapes over his marked skin, how it seems to pulse with its own life in response to his cursed energy—these details speak to your understanding of him, how you’ve learned to…love both the demon and the subtle changes your presence has wrought in him.

They’ve always been directed at you. Not from him. He’s never said them before. He’s never really known how, and part of him has always been envious of how the words can fall so effortlessly from your lips.

He’s never said them before. And yet now, at this moment, it feels like if he doesn’t act, the opportunity will be lost forever, forced down into the pit of his belly for who knows how long.

You hold your breath when you feel one of his hands cradle your cheek, massive enough so that his fingers card through your dark hair.

“And I see you, Ryu.”

The words feel like a promise. Like they will probably be rare but will only hold more and more weight as time goes by. And that’s okay for you. To be in his presence. To open him up and show him that he is capable of something gentle enough to hold you. That’s your gift that you will never need to wait until the 25th of December for.

His belly mouth is unusually silent, but his cursed energy tightens around you like a caress. Warm and vibrating, a protective weight that will remain around you for as long as you breathe. It speaks volumes that his pride won’t quite let him voice.

You lift a hand to rest on his cheek, tracing along the smooth skin that gives way to the rough texture that wraps around his right side. His two eyes on this side are more narrowed, encapsulated in the hard surface around it but still oozing dominance that could make others cower and definitely not come closer like you do. You cup his jaw before finally meeting his gaze—soft meeting a harshness that will never affect you, love meeting the beginnings of the same that linger beneath crimson pools.

“I see you too, Ryomen.”

The sound of his name makes his chest tighten, the organ behind his sternum pounding irregularly for only a second before falling back in line. His given name is forbidden for any who wish to speak it in likeness—he will only tolerate the name ‘Ryomen’ if it is wrapped in fear, or if it falls from your lips.

The silence lingers for what feels like forever, his hands holding you on his lap while he lets you map his face. Your heart flutters, happiness pulsing through your veins with every beat, cataloging every aspect of this moment in your mind forever.

“There is one mortal tradition,” he finally muses, his voice carrying that particular note of mischief that always makes your breath catch, “that I find…acceptable.”

It’s the kind of tone that usually follows lips along your skin and hands between your thighs, reminiscent of a man who can only bask in vulnerability for moments before shifting to something heady and tinged with lust.

Before you can question his motives, one of his hands lifts to hover above you both. His cursed energy manifests between his fingers, dark and potent, morphing itself into something that makes you snort in delighted surprise. Dark tendrils grow slowly from the mass of energy between his fingers, twisted and mangled to form branches, its leaves pitch black with berries that gleam like drops of blood.

A twisted version of mistletoe, the only representation that would be acceptable to someone like Sukuna.

“Of course, you’d make it look menacing,” you tease, giggling softly as his other arms draw you closer to his chest. His belly mouth snickers from below you, ready to join his host in whatever is planned. One of your fingers traces the metal of his gauges, your eyes narrowing in playful indifference.

“Then I advise you to have one ready for next year.”

Your heart stops, lungs seizing in your chest as the words tunnel into one ear and out the other. Next year. The idea hangs in the air, fragile and precious—proof that even Ryomen Sukuna, with all his arrogance and dominance, is willing to entertain a future with you.

The mistletoe pulses above you, casting reddish shadows across your faces, and you don’t need to think any longer as you lean in to slide your lips along his. His hands widen the expanse of your back, your robe slipping off your shoulders to hang in the crevice of your elbows, the heat from the pulsing mistletoe spreading over your chest. The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his lips, your body warming even further despite the heat from the fireplace.

He offers that hum—that characteristic hum that means so much.

Acquiescence.

Agreement.

I see you.

The mistletoe falls to the floor, crunching beneath your weight as Sukuna lays you on the fur, hands tracing your waist, sliding along your spine, hiking your legs around him. He doesn’t speak, content to admire you beneath him—a mortal without cursed energy who loves perfume, the paranormal, and classical music. A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

A mortal who has crawled beneath his skin and nestled there, unwilling to leave. And he’s too ashamed to admit that he gave up trying to pry you from inside of him a long time ago.

You throw your arms around his neck, impatient and tired of his staring, carding your fingers through deceptively soft pink hair to pull him down so that you can once again honor this particular tradition—one that, like everything else between you, has been transformed into something uniquely yours.

Merry Christmas, @grimmweepers !!!!

#recs 📚#ryukuna #i’m so sorry this was long winded #i don’t even think this captures the entirely of how reading this made me feel #entirety**

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sunsents · 4 years ago

Text

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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candychronicles · 4 years ago

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bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

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star-six7 · 4 years ago

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And You’re Someone Who Knows Someone (Who Was Someone I Once Knew)

Mikey Way x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1909

Request: Could I request anything with Mikey? Thanks :)

A/N: I am so sorry about the delay on this one! I’ve been drowning in school and work at the moment, but I’m still thinking of you guys, I promise! Also, catch that title reference ;)

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as you stood in front of the chain-link fence. Finally, a large guy with a security shirt came into your view, calling out your name.

“Hey,” he grinned when you nodded. “It’s good to finally meet you in person; Gerard’s been chattering nonstop about you for the past few days. I’m Worm, I’m in charge of most of the security for the band; I’ll take you back now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, putting away the backstage pass that Gerard had mailed to you. You were slightly taken aback by the professional quality of the whole set-up; the last time you had been to a My Chem show, it had been in a much less… respectable venue, and there wasn’t even the faintest idea of guards and backstage passes. Something told you that the security probably wasn’t the only thing that had changed over the last few years...

While you were lost in your thoughts, Worm had led you through a back parking lot filled with big box trucks and busy stage crews right to the band’s bus. He punched in a key-code, and grandly guided you up the steps.

“Gerard, your esteemed guest has arrived!” He winked good-naturedly at you, and then turned to leave. “Soundcheck at four, please attempt to think about being there in some semblance of a timely manner.” He rolled his eyes as he exited the bus.

Gerard, of course, didn’t hear him because he was too busy leaping off the couch so he could tackle you. “You’re here!”

“Yes,” you grinned, attempting to pat his back and keep your balance at the same time. “It’s been so long, Gerard, how are you?”

He let go and returned your smile. “I’ve been great, really great. A lot better than I was the last time we met. Um,” he ran a hand through his close-cropped white hair, and glanced sideways at Mikey. “You remember Ray and Mikey, right?”

“Of course,” you grinned at them. “How could I not? I did go to all of your shows for a year.”

“Well, uh, Otter ended up leaving after we finished recording Three Cheers, so that’s Bob- say hi, Bob- oh! And you remember Pencey, right? Well, Frankie’s with us now, and I think that about covers it.”

You waved at them. You remembered Frank’s wild nature, not surprised that he fit in so well with My Chem, and Bob seemed nice enough. All of the guys seemed genuinely excited about your presence, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there were some conspiratorial glances and nudges being thrown around by everyone except Mikey. In fact, the bassist in question was doing his best to look artfully bored from his place on the couch and ignore Frank’s not-so-subtle shoving. Still, you felt a certain tug towards him, even after all these years.

“C’mon!” Gerard said brightly, snapping you out of your observations. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a whirlwind of wandering the bus park and venue with Gerard, watching the guys soundcheck from the nosebleeds, and dining on pizza in the green room. You were so glad you had been able to make it to a show; Gerard was one of your closest friends, and it had been a couple of years since you had last met.

Your friendship had started during your senior year of college- you had both had an internship in the same building, albeit for different companies and lines of work. Since then, you had bonded over several of your shared interests and kept in touch, leading you to go to several of the first My Chem shows, and by extension, meet Ray, Frank, and Mikey. Though your busy work life and their crazy tour schedule had caused you to drift apart, it felt like no time had passed at all as you watched Ray swat Frank for stealing his pizza while Gerard and Mikey laughed uncontrollably at Ray’s exasperated expression.

Soon enough, it was time for them to go onstage, which became evident when the venue’s stage manager knocked on the door to lead them to the curtain. Worm reappeared and guided you to the seat marked on your ticket from Gerard- a center stage view from the very first row of actual seats behind the pit. Clearly, Gerard had wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single part of the show.

The lights dimmed, and you watched two crewmembers dressed as doctors and nurses wheel out a covered gurney while the sound of a heartbeat monitor played over the sound system. You were unsurprised when Gerard leapt out of the gurney moments later, kicking off the show.

You already knew the guys were awe-inspiring onstage- you had known it from the way you felt the first time you saw them live- but it was clear to see that over the past few years, they had taken it to a whole new level. They had each grown into their stage personas and their identity as a band, but your eyes kept drifting to one member in particular...

You had noticed it earlier today, but Mikey had definitely evolved since the last time you had met. He seemed much more sure of himself onstage; instead of retreating to the space almost directly behind Gerard, he often came up to the edge of the stage or interacted with his bandmates. He also seemed more relaxed off stage, easily interacting with fans outside of the venue and joking before the show with the rest of the band and crew. You couldn’t deny that he was a far cry from Gerard’s shy, slightly awkward, little brother you had met all those years ago.

Before you knew it, the show was over, and Frank was insisting on heading to a nearby diner for several plates of french fries and milkshakes. You glanced at your watch and balked. “Shit… I’m sorry guys, it’s almost 1am and I didn’t get a hotel. I think I’m going to start the drive home.”

Frank and Gerard glanced at each other, and then they rushed to stop you. “Don’t be ridiculous, come with us and you can just stay on the bus!”

“I don’t want to take up anyone’s space…” You hemmed.

“It’s fine!” Ray insisted. “Don’t even worry about it, you can sleep in the back lounge, it’s honestly very nice.”

Though you were suspicious of their enthusiasm, you accepted their offer with a shrug and followed the rest of the group in their search for a 24 hour diner.

…

You sighed as you took off your shoes and settled into the bed in the back lounge. You were exhausted; the long day of walking, dancing, and socializing was starting to catch up to you. However, just as soon as you had stretched out across the soft surface and closed you, you were startled upright by the sound of yelling coming from the bunk area just behind the lounge door. Confused, you opened it to see Mikey, looking irate, and Frank looking guilty yet slightly pleased with himself.

“What the actual fuck, Frank?” Mikey glared accusingly at him.

“I’m really sorry Mikey, it was-”

“An accident? Frank, we all know you’re clumsy as fuck, but there’s absolutely no way someone pours an entire liter of soda directly on my bunk on accident!”

“Oh shit,” you said, stepping out of the doorway to assess the damage.

Mikey glanced at you. “Sorry if I woke you up, Frank’s just being ridiculous.”

“Mikey, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep here tonight,” Ray said, gently prodding Mikey’s mattress. “It’s pretty soaked.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Mikey sighed irritably. “Well, couch it is, then.”

“Actually,” Gerard piped up, oh-so-helpfully, “there’s plenty of space in the back lounge.” He turned to you. “If you’re okay with sharing, that is.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his plan here. You were pretty sure that if he could bat his eyelashes right now, he would. Ignoring your suddenly accelerating heart rate, you turned back to Mikey.

“I don’t mind sharing, it is your bus after all,” you shrugged, glancing at Mikey. “Gerard’s right, there’s plenty of room.”

The other three looked extremely pleased with themselves.

“Thank you,” he told you, before turning to glare at Frank and head into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, you were in the back lounge again, somewhat awkwardly laying on one half of the double bed as you waited for Mikey to turn off the lights and get settled.

He looked abashed as he stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry for snapping back there,” he said. “It’s just… the guys have been making fun of me for the past few days and it gets old fast.”

“I understand, it's okay,” you nodded, as you watched his silhouette shift closer to you in the dark.

He gave you a considering look. “It’s just… I told them something personal and they couldn’t just leave it alone. Honestly, this whole weekend has been sort of a set up.”

You rolled over to look at him properly as everything began to fall into place. Frank and Gerard’s insistence that you should stay the night, Frank’s “clumsiness,” Gerard’s helpful suggestions, the general feeling that something was going on behind the scenes…

“Oh,” you said, hoping he would confirm your suspicions, “what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that,” for a moment, it seemed like the endearing shyness of the Mikey you had met in Gerard’s basement was back. “Okay, like.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m working on building my confidence, so I’m gonna tell you this and hope for this best. I’ve… had a thing for you for a while, if it wasn’t already obvious. I mean, at first, it was just a crush… but as the years went on, and I- we grew up, I’ve realized it’s more than that. I know I’m still working on being stable, but I want to take that chance with you. I mean, if you feel the same way of course.” He paused. “Wow, that was a weight off my chest.”

You stared at him, opening your mouth to speak and then closing it as you parsed your thoughts. You had always felt a certain fondness for Mikey, and the past day had shown you that, over the course of a few years, it had grown into something more than friendship. You couldn’t deny that you also had feelings towards Mikey, and that seeing his new-found confidence and sense of self had only solidified them.

“Um, you’re not like, pissed, are you?”

His timid question snapped you out of your reverie.

“No, of course not!” you rushed to assure him. “I… I feel the same way, Mikey. I think I always have.”

“Oh!” He couldn’t keep the small grin off of his face. “So then I guess you don’t mind if I do this then, right?” He moved in closer to you and wrapped his free arm around your waist, effectively pulling you into his chest.

You smiled, warm with the feeling that things had finally fallen into place. “Good guess,” you sighed, already beginning to fall asleep.

“One more thing,” Mikey paused.

“Hm?”

“Under no circumstances can the others know that their evil plan worked.” “Deal.”

#mikey way #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #mcr imagine #mcr x reader #mcr #my chemical romance #my chem #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance x reader #bandom #bandom imagine #imagine #x reader #reader insert

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snkpolls · 4 years ago

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SnK Chapter 132 Results

The chapter poll closed with 1,746 responses. This month’s chapter poll results were brought to you by /u/_Puppet_, /u/staraves, @momtaku, @shifter-lines and /u/berthototototo

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,693 responses

When we compare “Wings of Freedom” with other chapter results we’ve recorded, it comes in 25th out of 41, making it middle of the pack as far as ratings go. Looking at the chapter on it’s own, however, it’s very well received with nearly 86% of the fandom rating it good (30.4%) or great (55.3%).

I think it was definitely just a classic aot chapter, had that plot that always had you on the edge of your toes, had the emotional moments, the momentary funny and bittersweet moments, 10/10 chapter

It couldn’t have gone any better besides Hange’s death :/

wish Floch got a little more screen time upon death but otherwise, awesome chapter.

It felt a little bit rushed but I enjoyed it nonetheless

It was so well executed yet so sad. I'm pride of our Hanji but feel so much distress thinking it's over for her.

It was a great emotional piece, and last moment before the true final battle begins. There’s no going back.

It was a good chapter but I would’ve liked if there was more dialogue between the alliance members

The deaths were rushed and poorly written

It was good, but alliance focused chapters are still a drop in quality.

It was a solid chapter and did what it aimed to do well, though I think it had pacing issues with the two deaths.

It had a little something for everyone. Except Zeke stans.

WE’LL GET TO THE GOODBYES IN A SECOND, BUT FIRST, WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT?

1,695 responses

Hange’s sacrifice was the moment that people liked the most at 30%, and seeing the old Survey Corp crew was a stand-out moment for 21%. Seeing Mikasa and Annie have an almost casual conversation brought joy to 12.1%, and Floch’s determination and brutal death were appreciated most by 11.6%.

I love the final shots of the scouts being shown in the afterlife. Ty Isayama

The little moments between the characters was great because it reminds us that they're still human.

The overall scene was legendary seeing Hange dying for her comrades and even in her last seconds she thought that she sacrificed herself in order for her comrades to live. That's what she thought a great commander would look like. That's why Hange was one of the best commanders of the Scouts.

Mikasa is such a boss, love seeing her fight and hopefully we'll get more big moments from her (as opposed to Levi).

Chad, King, hero. Every moment that Floch was in is a great scene.

I loved the Colossus slipping down the mountain

My favorite part is Kiyomi refilling coal with a shovel alone :)

WHICH OF THE GOODBYES WAS YOUR FAVORITE 1,699 responses

In a chapter filled with goodbyes it was Levi and Hange’s final moments that we found most endearing with close to 60% selecting it. “Please don’t make me choose” was a very distant second with 14.7%. Interestingly Annie and Reiner (10.4%) beat out Annie and Armin (6.5%) for third place.

i think isayama truly gave hange a great goodbye, and writing them still being cheerful and joking around made me feel so much more for their death.

It made me cry because of all the goodbyes. It reminded me of Erwin saying goodbye to the people inside the walls and people of the military. And his iconic “roar”. All of that before the battle.

Hange’s and Levi’s goodbye was very well done (that look in Levi’s eyes too, ouch), props to Isayama for breaking my heart.

The Reiner/Annie hug was all I could ask for, bless Yams.

I wanted a Levihan moment for this chapter and NOT a last levihan scene 😭

WHO WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MVP? 1,700 responses

Who else could it be? Hange Zoe is the chapter MVP according to two-thirds of all poll respondents. Floch (13%), Engineer-kun (3.4%) and Mikasa (2.6%) all got tiny slivers of the remaining pie.

Hange was truly the hero of this chapter and i'm so happy to have been witness to their characters journey over the years!

Hange is overall my second favourite character and I looked up to them. For me Hange is the true embodiment for the Survey Corps which is for Humanity and their courage, optimism and selflessness really made me love them so much.

Hange was a flawed commander. We all know this. They made mistakes like any other human being would when faced with the stress of a leadership position. They tried desperately to fill Erwins shoes but in the end accepted that they should be themselve. But overall Hange Zoe is an incredible person and I will miss them so

Best girl Mikasa rocked it this chapter with the way she swiftly killed Floch!

While I don't agree with some of Floch's beliefs, he died trying to save his home by slowing down the Alliance. Goodnight, sweet prince!

Floch did his best he anchored all the way from the beginning to the hangar with a bullet wound and that mustve hurt like hell all that salt water coming in

Someone please send me help I can't do this my family and friends got so worried because I've changed. They be like "Bro you've changed and I be like yeah Hange died bro what do you expect I'm in genuine pain you won't understand."

HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT HANGE’S HEROIC EXIT? 1,701 responses

Just over half of respondents loved the way Hange went out at 51.4%, and 26.5% liked it despite some quibbles. Not many of us saw it coming but it was at least emotional and a badass way to go. However, 9.6% hated it – there is an undeniable trend of every vaguely older character getting the chop. Who will poor Levi sit with in the retirement home with now?! 6.8% don’t really care about how the scene went. I suppose they’re the ones most prepared if no one in SnK gets to go to the retirement home.

A great ending to an amazing character, it's sad to see her go, but her time was up and she died fighting the creatures she loved.

I'm disturbed by how much it affected me

I loved it, but its not something i'll cry over.

I don't hate it but it did seem kinda unnecessary tbh could've been better

I STILL CAN'T STOP CRYING ABOUT IT. OPTION ONE IS GOOD BUT DOESN'T EXPRESS HOW MUCH THIS CHAPTER HURT ME.

It does break my heart,however the way and the time she do that, That was... Memorable

It happened too quickly for me to consider it perfect, but I'm glad she got to go out on her own terms.

Not heroic at all, she didn't even stop the colossals and was a cheap way for her to never face the consequences of her betraying the island

It was dope but Floch indirectly killed her so he takes that dub

I'M STILL CRYING ABOUT IT, SHE WENT OUT LIKE A FUCKING CHAMP

I'm super frustrated that she died, but she was heroic

She’s a traitor, nothing more to be said

i hated it. it was perfect. she really did go out with a bang and i hate it

Felt a bit pointless, would've loved to see some emphasize why it was crucial to kill these exact two titans. For me it looked like plain suicide

Had to go through the 5 stages of grief after that one, honestly. I was so angry immediately afterward because Hange is my favorite character of all time in any piece of media, losing them was almost like losing someone I've known and cared about for almost 7 years of my life. I've now come to accept that maybe death is the only happy ending any character can achieve in this story.

I don’t want to think about it

I don't like the idea of every Scout commander having a ""curse"" that they have to inevitably pay for with their lives. They're outstanding people and volunteers, just like their comrades, no one forced them to join.

WHAT WAS THE ASPECT YOU LIKED MOST ABOUT HANGE’S LAST MOMENTS? 1,687 responses

This question was fun to write but looking at the even distribution of selections, I suspect choosing an answer was difficult. Levi saying devote your heart to Hange was top pick with close to 30% selecting it. Retaining their sense of humor to the end (17.1%), being able to reunite with their old comrades (14.7%), having a moment of amazement while confronting the titans (14.4%), being able to die on their own terms and say goodbye (12.3%), stealing death from Reiner yet again (8.2%) and telling Armin he can boss Levi around (3.4%) were the other selections.

I really love Hange and when i see her died and see erwin and other old friends and morbit helping her i just cannot cry (sorry for my english im french ^^)

I was never a really big fan of Hange, but that exit was badass as hell.

It was a heroic death but it felt forced and unnecessary and she was my favorite character, so I'm extremely salty and in denial.

Hange seemed too eager to just die, like welp, i guess my contract is up, gotta go die.....It felt like when actors are written off a show

I never really considered myself a fan of her, but her death got me good. I think it was because how she marvelled and was genuinely amazed by titans, even in her final moments.

glad to see the old titan obsessed hange back before her final sacrifice

Most people seem to think that Hange's death was a bullshit ending, but I think that it was perfect, going out the way they were introduced.

To have hange say that titans are amazing before she dies was just perfect! It shows how she stayed true to herself until the end. And the part where she reunited with Moblit, Erwin, Mike and the others was so beautiful.

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE HANGE QUOTE THIS CHAPTER? 1,686 responses

Hange really got to shine this chapter as we’re reminded of how off-kilter and fun they can be, even when the situation is at its most serious. We got a chapter chock full of memorable lines, but the favorite was of course “Titans really are incredible,” a call back to the reverence and respect for titans that made so many love the character to begin with.

"titans.. are truly incredible." was a fitting last(ish) words for hange.

SO GOES THE 14TH COMMANDER OF THE SCOUTS, HANGE ZOE, FOLLOWING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF THEIR PREDECESSORS. WHAT ARE YOUR FINAL THOUGHTS ON THEIR OVERALL LEGACY? 802 responses

GOAT

I think their legacy is one of grit and determination in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Not as revolutionary as say, Erwin, but they were perseverant and selfless, and innovative in their own right, as a scientist and researcher, always seeking new possibilities.

I will always remember Hange as our awesome scientist who came up with ideas for weapons! and was passionate about titans! and would stand up for a better comprehension of them instead of... whatever it is that Isayama made of Hange post-time skip that they no longer could shine about anything or would even reflect about what Eren was going through. Love you, Hange, you deserved that we followed your struggles more closely. <3

Hange became the commander in the most difficult moment and had bad times having to deal with politics, a whole new world and their own powerlessness. I think the Alliance is their most precious legacy and it really represents the old SC's spirit.

I adored seeing them go from loony scientist to a powerful and serious commander, even if it did come with a boatload of trauma. I also respect the hell out of them for being willing to watch their own culture destroyed if it meant not committing genocide. On a more personal note, as a nonbinary person it's just been really wonderful to see a character like Hange treated with such respect.

Amazing character and leader. Not on Erwin's level but she was a badass 😭😭 #rip

*you tried star*

A bit hypocritical. She was willing to stop Eren and endanger all Eldiana to save strangers from other nations that want to kill them. She also says killing is wrong, but proceeds to kill multiple Eldians unbothered, but when she sees Marleyans or people from other nations, she softens up.

Being a commander is not an easy job, and Hange's start was even more difficult because of Zeke annihilating like 90%(??) of the Scouts and the reveal in the basement and the crisis that followed. Still, she kept going, never giving up, even if she clearly had some moments of selfdoubt. I feel like Hange can be proud of herself and the life she lived, and I am happy that she was able go in her own terms. Her death bought them precious time, but it was a great loss as well. I feel a bit empty and wistful...

Brilliant character, brilliant way to let them go. I’m most interested to see how this death will effect Armin and his leadership as they alliance approach the founding titan. I’m also glad we got to see them in the afterlife, that was a bittersweet comfort.

Every commander dies young, rip armin

Hange was annoying. Glad they're dead.

Hange was incredible in their own field of interest, but definitely not fit to be the commander. Loved how they could be themself once again at the end.

Followed in Erwin's footsteps and even went beyond. Hange will be remembered as the commander who took Paradis from the titans and who explored beyond the island for the first time in 100+ years. Plus a rational commander, putting facts and science before everything else, as well as grasping how important diplomacy and politics are even beyond Paradis. Also although quirky, an example of tolerance.

Fuck that.. Their death was worthy of them.. it was a very sweet goodbye.. But I really thought they would make it to the end... And I really wanted them to. Hange was such an important character, they did so much for the cause and for everyone. They were someone who could be trusted but who didn't hesitate to do what had to be done. Incredibly smart and humbled, I just wish they believed in themselves a bit more.. cus they are incredible.

Hange was given a shit-circus to try and handle- complete with clowns, children causing mayhem, and a giant fucking monkey.

Her "gEnOcIdE iS wRoNg" quote with no actual solution in 126 really turned me off for her for a while as a character; overall however, Hange was one of the more memorable and likable characters from the series and it's sad to see her go.

Given the difficult job of rebuilding the Survey Corps after its destruction with very little help. Had to deal with the wannabe hegemon in Zackly who was doing lots of underhanded power grabs in the background. Had to deal with a populace who finally realized they were not alone. Had to deal with a moody weapon known as the Attack titan who knew all the answers but shared it with no one. Poor Hange who was never given a chance for victory

Hange was amazing character that got entirely too much flack for not being a "good commander" This is a character that above all stayed true to themselves in what they fought for and believed in.

Hange Zoe spat on the legacy of the scouting league by squandering their sacrifice to protect their families and communities. Hange's actions if successful will likely lead to the deaths of all their families which is something they would never support.

Considering how we never truly knew if Erwin was totally devoted to humanity or totally selfish, and considering Shardiz' inferiority complex, Hanji was the true one who gave her whole being to humanity and who truly embodied Survey Corps' abnegation, without any regard toward such senseless conception like homeland. No wonder why the title of her final battle is "Wings of Freedom"

Legendary commanders, each one going out with with a bang. Erwin going out by distracting Monke and Levi taking him out. Hange going out by taking care of a few Bert ripoffs, having the alliance survive a few more hours. And Armin, wait-

Hange helped the main characters in the story with her quick thinking and managed to put the missing pieces into place for us. Their different outlook on the whole situation gave us a fresh perspective and there’ll be no one else like them.

hange is great!!! too bad she tortured bean and sawney tho and sannes smh but 10/10 regardless love that mad scientist

Hange embodied the spirit of the survey corp. She was the commander that made unlikely alliances and advanced Paradis infrastructure.

Hange has been one of my favorite characters. They are the best Titan Scientist. RIP.

Thank you Hange, you did great 💖

FLOCH FINALLY GOT THE GLOCK. OR ACTUALLY, THE ANCHOR. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF HIS LAST HURRAH? 1,660 responses

Let’s not forget that Hange wasn’t the only major death in this chapter. After months of being voted most likely to die, Floch’s time finally came. About 30% of respondents are just celebrating that he’s finally dead, a quarter are glad he’s dead but got this last fun scene, and 20.4% are glad he was able to screw with the alliance once more before dying.

🦀🦀🦀FLOCH IS DEAD🦀🦀🦀

A fitting ending for an interesting, yet very unpleasant character. Love how his death was contrasted with Hange's, and the fact that Mikasa was the one to off him (the symbolism of the person who represents Eren's humanity killing the person who keeps referring to him as the devil is... well, not subtle but it can't be ignored).

Could have done more, but he never wavered or lost his convictions, more of a hero than any of the alliance will ever be

he should have been dead since 129, makes no sense

He should've stayed on the island and failed

Died a hero, wouldn’t even beg for his life but for his friends and countrymen instead

Even though I didn't really like him, I have my full respect to him for following his beliefs till his last breath

Floch is one of the best characters, and most complex characters, he got a very good ending.

I love eren’s boyfriend ♡

He died a hero's death after carrying chapters 124-130 on his back. He also did nothing wrong.

He's a mega chad and I love him. Managing to survive underwater for 2 days and slowly losing blood, and then shooting the ship to stop the Alliance, and then having a bomb-ass speech? He was a legend that needs to be appreciated more.

His arm should've been blown off to begin with and even if it wasn't, he should've died from hypothermia. I think it was needed drama, but done poorly.

His death was far better executed than I thought. He shot the fuel tank instead of one of the SC or one of the engineers/Onyankopon. That should tells you that he just want them to stop, not killing them all. He stays true to his belief of saving Paradis by following Eren, even in his last words he is pleading for Paradis' instead of his own live. From someone whose country has been colonized once, I say that is a true soldier for his nation.

Oh fuck off floch, he was a dick with volatile ideals anyway. Fuck that guy honestly. Like I agree with his stance but like. Everytime it feels oddly implanted when he has an opinion, like he does think with his own head but gets influenced very easily into changing sides too fast? Like, he does the right things but jot for the right reasons because he doesn't really think them through enough? That's my vibe. Idk. Ignore all my answers I feel stupid

RIP Hero of Paradis. To save your civilisation is an admirable goal, although it being achieved through genocide is still morally wrong

I'm sad he didn't get to know how Eren used him.

FLOCH FORSTER WAS A COMMANDER IN HIS OWN RIGHT, FIGHTING HIS WAY UP FROM HIS ORIGINS AS A BACKGROUND CHARACTER. ANY OVERALL THOUGHTS ON THE BIRD NEST BOI AND HIS IMPACT ON THE STORY? 912 responses

Best boy. Fly high you little devil :(( <3

a bitch but i respect the fact that he did what he believed in (even if its genocide😕)

Controversially, I have no opinion on him.

Ding dong the witch is dead

A character that was perfectly written for his purpose. AoT World isnt black and white and he showed us. Pain and loss made the Floch that died in 132. but Eldia and Marley made the Floch that survived to see all his comrades dead.

Floch is shit :) but also is a good character because its represents a real human.

A complete and satisfying character. It's not easy to summarize, but the way he went from a naive gloryhound to a single-minded guy trying to make his own survival/the deaths from the charge mean something while still remaining a relatively normal, unremarkable soldier was great. Also, I appreciate how he, Eren, and the Yeagerists basically reenacted Uprising by overthrowing a regime that would've just continued the royal family-eating and messed around until the island got destroyed. The prediction from Sannes all those years ago turned out to be too accurate, unfortunately.

A lot of people did hate Floch, I didn't. I think adding Floch to the story was just as essential as the other supporting characters. He played out a good and effectively annoying enemy. I think in every Action-thriller story, a Floch is a must as a villain. The hate on Floch reminded me of the hate on Joffrey from Game of Thrones. But Joffrey did have a great impact on the story, so did Floch. The way he was written just really did manage to get on our nerves, and I think that's what makes a character great.

A true patriot.

An asshole but at least he went out feeling like a rounded character

An nazi ass bitch

Based and Redpilled

Best character not named Eren or Erwin.

By far exceeded expectations.

Disagree with his agenda, but he's a very real character and a representation of the monster someone can become when driven by survivor's guilt and trauma.

He was the literally epitome of a roller coaster ride.

Floch always felt like a background character, and even though he gets far more to do than other background characters, he never felt like an actual person but rather just a plot device. He has no personality.

Floch was surprisingly good given he was such a minor character. He fully displayed the shades of gray of the narrative.

Heck him >:(

Floch has always been someone who held an opposing view to the main cast, and his entire arc revolved around his need to "bring back the devil" in order to ensure the safety of his land and his people. Some people seem to have forgotten that, but at his core he never changed. Sad to see him go out like this.

Floch has my respect for fighting until the very end (and even after the end since we all thought he'd been killed by Gabi) for what he believes in, but obviously it is not what I and my favourite characters believe in, so I'm glad he's gone. His impact is great as he earned the title of "most tenacious villain ever" when he only really started as a coward rookie soldier many chapters ago. Also props to him for holding onto this boat for such a long time and being up for a fight after probably being hauled in the sea and swallow more water he ever had his entire life.

The panel of him shushing Hanji will always be iconic. His descent into nationalism (new Eldian empire, anyone?) however, was not so cash money"

When Floch had captured Miss Kiyomi (ch. 128) he dismissed what she said and had his speech about ‘it’s important to know your place’, and then not even a minute later he was taken down by this same old lady smh. Previously, he wanted to kill Onyankopon and Yelena, but Jean deceived him and he failed. Later, he wanted to kill someone on the boat, but Gabi shot him and he failed. He wanted to stop the alliance, but Mikasa got him with her anchor and he didn’t just fail, he died. I’ve seen some readers applaud him for fighting for what he believes in and having a strong will, but they don’t see what else there is. Strong will? Not giving up? So many characters have the same traits in AoT. The difference is that Floch repeatedly never achieved what he wanted to accomplish, despite his strong will and belief to not give up. His determination and willpower made him achieve nothing. By contrast, Hange’s will and determination to keep fighting made her kill about 2-4 colossals and save her allies just in time for them to get away. Is the difference obvious enough? Their deaths are even put in the same chapter. Floch was not important, admirable, or whatever you want to praise him like. He kept interfering with the alliance and for what? He simply never knew his place.

He played a larger role than I ever thought he would and became one of the most interesting characters during this time. I’m glad he was here to push the story along, and I’ll miss him.

His fans are insufferable but he is a needed counterbalance to the alliance characters and stuck to his beliefs to the end.

He started up as a fodder and ends up as one of the biggest threats for SC. I might be in the minority when I said I already like him since pre time skip. He showed us how the war is like from the perspective of a normal soldier, not the talented ones who got into the 10 top ranks. Just a normal soldier who was inspired by the words of his leader to devote his heart, and came to a realization that it's an actual hell, just like reality. Maybe he's wrong to vent about choosing Armin instead of Erwin when Armin was feeling down, but I can understand. All his friends died, he's currently having emotional and survivor trauma over the suicide charge, and all of those sufferings came to a waste because of the people in front of him.

Pee pee poo poo

Good riddance. What a worthless pile of garbage.

Goodnight sweet prince

ARMIN WANTS TO BRING ALONG THE LEFTOVER EXPLOSIVES. HOW WILL THEY BE USED? 1,638 responses

Chekov’s explosives are now in play. 37.7% of you think they’ll be used to try to blow Eren out of his nape, and 33.7% think they’ll definitely be used for another suicide mission.

Another failed suicide attempt by Reiner

Any of the above, depending on the situation. I think Armin isn't really thinking of anything in particular, simply that having the option to explode something is better than not.

Armin could use them as a suicide necklace to threaten Eren. If Eren still cares for Armin he may stop the rumbling if he knows it will stop Armin from killing himself and possibly Mikasa.

dude there's been so many unexpected turns and plot twists right now I really don't want to make any assumption. But the plane idea is interesting.

i still think armin will fight eren with his colossal titan. I can only hope for something truly epic.

I think they'll be used for more than one of the above

Idk, but for sure they want to damage Eren's Titan to buy some time in doing something

If Eren doesn’t comply I’d assume they will be used to destroy his “nape” if they can even find it. Someone probably has to go on a suicide mission to do so.

Kamikaze Onyankopon like its written all over the poor fellas face,

Levi will suicide bomb Zeke to cut off Eren's connection to paths

make my brain explode hopefully since this plot is ridiculously bad

Only Armin (and Isayama) knows how the explosives will be used. I'm sure it will have something to do with stopping Eren.

Plan A: Blast Eren nape, but it will fail so Plan B: Kamikaze

Reiner will try to use the bombs to commit suicide and take Eren with himself

they'll probably kaboom zook with that idk (I missed my monke so so much)

They will be as useful as farting on Eren.

WHAT DID YOU THINK OF MIKASA AND ANNIE’S CONVERSATION? 1,665 responses

Mikasa and Annie have a heart to heart near the start of the chapter, after being rivals early in the story. The two most popular options were being in awe of the cuteness when Armin became the topic, at 34%, and just loving seeing these two characters interact, at 31.3%. 17.5% are wondering how they made the switch to friends so quickly, 9.5% view it as rehashing what’s already been talked about, and 7.8% are more interested in that Mikannie action.

Mikasa's reaction was so cute after realizing Annie has a thing for Armin.

The chapter was also surprisingly humorous, with Mikasa's reaction to learning Annie likes Armin having me burst out laughing.

The sudden closeness between Alliance members who used to be enemies, such as Mikasa/Annie, feel forced and unearned, and the extra Armin/Annie shipping is just unnecessary and a waste of panels when we are so close to the ending yet many things still need closure.

Aruani😍

Mikasa and Annie's conversation almost made me gag because I feel so sorry for Annie having to put up with the constant misunderstanding of her feelings. Annie is aromantic and Mikasa needs to sit down and respect that fact quite like Armin himself does.

I legit laughed out loud when reading Mikasa and Annie's chit chat. At 1 AM.

MIKASA TELLS ANNIE SHE HAS KEPT THE SCARF WITH HER. WHAT DO YOU THINK HER PLAN IS? 1,662 responses

The scarf has become an actual plot point as of late, with Louise stealing it and now this. Will it be important for the end game? 45.1% of you believe Mikasa will use it to try to see if the Eren she used to know, who gave it to her is still in there somewhere. 29.1% of you don’t think she has any particular plans as of yet. 15.2% think she’ll comfort Eren in it once they stop him, and 10.5% are putting their money down on the “She’ll use it to strangle Eren” option.

Mikasa need to understand the Eren she remembers is no longer coming back from this.

Mikasa is really a frustrating character... but I think it's on purpose that she keeps swinging from realizing who he really is (chapter 123) and still wanting to be with him (or rather the idealized version she has of him aka the ""old Eren""), because her whole character arc is to separate herself from Eren and coping with it."It's up to Mikasa whether or not she'll be a slave. If she decides to fight against her slave instincts, Eren will have no choice but to kill her since, as an Ackerman, Mikasa, is immune to the memory-fuckery.

In fact, Mikasa should just hang herself with Eren's scarf and the story would become infinitely better and women might finally have better representation. I have never liked Mikasa, but now I actively despise her. She is nothing more than an Eren simp as was revealed to us when she said she's still holding onto that threadbare rag of hers despite everything Eren has proven himself capable of doing. You know, that whole genocide thing that Mikasa herself barely survived in this very chapter while her Commander very much did not. "

I feel tired of people who make fun of Mikasa. She is the one who still believes in Eren's good side and doesn't see him as monster. Everyone else see Eren as devil, while Mikasa still keeps memories about kind Eren and believes that this "old Eren" still is somewhere there. He is the most important person in her life and she will not give up on him as fast as everyone think. She is not obsessed. She is aware of Eren's dark side, of his cruelty and everything he has been doing, but on the same time she will still keep trying to help him and show him that he is NOT the devil, he is not as horrible person as he thinks he is. Everyone are saying that HISTORIA saved him in the cave when he was in his dark moments. Maybe this time it will be Mikasa who will save him from his darkest nightmare.

I can't wait for Eren × Mikasa confrontation "

WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN WITH THOSE ON THE BOAT? 1,653 responses

The party has split in two, with one half going directly to Eren, and the other half…? Nearly half of you think that they’ll certainly end up doing something to help the alliance still. 21.8% think they’ll run into the survivors of Liberio, 17.9% think they will in fact be absent for most of the story no, and 11% think they’ll dock at Paradis and do something of import there.

Please isayama, please don’t add any more needless sideplots with the boat doing something

Could have done many alliance interactions/good-byes better. Reiner didn't seem to care for the kids, despite them being his motivation to live. Bert never mentioned. Annie/Armin had no discussion. What are the boat crew even going to do?

"Falco & co. WILL join the battle! At least he has to, because the Jaw Titan is the only one who can break through the Warhammer's hardening!

With them leaving Falco behind (and therefore the Jaw titan's power), I think the explosives may at some point be used if Even tries to shield himself using the Warhammer's power.

Anyone that thinks Annie, Falco and Gabi sailed off is an idiot.

The only thing I'm not too sure about is Annie, Gabi, Falco, Yelena and Kiyomi staying behind. I was every character to have their chance to shine in the final battle. Hopefully, Isayama will find a way to bring these characters back into the conflict.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT LEVI EQUIPPING HIMSELF FOR BATTLE? 1,661 responses

After being blown up and almost out of the story a year and a half ago, Levi is finally suiting back up to get a slice of someone or something, despite still being heavily injured and scarred. Almost half of the fandom, at 44.6% are excited for his upcoming role in the story, but find it hard to believe he’s ready to fight, as it hasn’t quite been a year and a half in their world. About a quarter, at 23.2% have been waiting for this moment to finally come for all that time. 15.1% want him to stay away from danger the way he has been, and 9.2% wish he would have just died all those chapters ago.

Kinda silly, but I'll roll with it.

Now that we know Levi is ready for battle, I think his role in the story at this point is for one final confrontation with Zeke (assuming Zeke is within Eren's Founding Titan body somewhere). There, Levi will kill Zeke once and for all to finally fulfill his promise to Erwin, but something tells me Levi will die shortly after he lands the killing blow on Zeke.

Beast Titan vs Levi Round 3

Can't wait till he's forced to team up with Zeke

He will go out in a blaze

Definitely going out with a bang. He’s done with life, it’s obvious he is just here now to complete an objective, he wants to go out strong because of the weight of the survey corpse members gave him. Everyone he has cared about has died. He wants make them proud in a sense, at least dying with pride, and finally getting to meet them again in the afterlife.

I think he should have died in the explosion BUT I think that to do that, he should have had a longer philosophical talk with zeke and overcome his erwin issues, AND THEN die

He’s survived this long- he’s definitely earned the rights to go out on his own terms.

His comeback to fight is just another asspull.

How can he even move, let alone fight? If he survives all of this I’ll be shocked.

I can only see a Pyrrhic victory. I'm scared.

Isayama still has the chance to have Levi die by Eren's hands. The entire story has been leading up to this. Levi was always right about Eren and the sweet irony is that Levi always fought and saw all of his comrades die for Eren only to get killed by Eren as well.

I don't know why people are angry at that. Levi is a soldier and is not a suicidal one. He has a definite role to play and I don't want him to sit around. He's been through much worse.

He is a liability, I don't see him surviving.

-Death flag initiated-

He ain't surviving this one, huh?

Good that he’s feeling better. But I don’t want him to die.

He’s going to make a final charge and die

The man can barely stand on his own, so I think fighting is pretty much out of the question. Really interested in seeing what a character who has always relied first and foremost on violence is going to do now that this has been taken away from him.

As a good commander (and letting annie stay) Hange or Armin had to tell him to stay in boat, like he s only going to kill himself against zeke if he crossed him

He'll be fine...right? RIGHT?!

he'll probably die in a suicide attack on the monke

I feel like this may be a death-sentence. Levi dying and finally getting the burden of killing Zeke off his chest is a likely/ and good way for his character arc to end.

I just hope he doesn't have a cliche death alongside Zeke.

He'll rest with his comrades soon

He will get more injured, then give a speech to mikasa about letting the man he loved die instead of becoming a monster, then he will die

Watching him makes my anxiety level raised to 100

He's gonna give monkey chan a thousand years of death two finger style

Please just let him rest, he's tired, I'm tired, we're all tired ffs

YELENA IS HOLDING FAST TO HER BELIEF IN THE EUTHANASIA PLAN AS THE ONLY WAY TO PEACEFULLY END THE CONFLICT. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT ZEKE’S PLAN IN HINDSIGHT? 1,620 responses

While the plurality of fans acknowledge Zeke’s plan is better than Eren’s (at 48.2%), only 7.7% say they agree in hindsight, and 5.8% always agreed with Zeke, for a combined 13.5%. This makes a total of 61.7% who would vote for it over Eren’s plan today. Interestingly, when Zeke’s plan was first revealed in 114, 76% voted for his plan when given the choice between that and rumbling the world. So after seeing the rumbling, the support for Zeke’s plan as an alternative has actually dropped.

I get it, Yelena’s something of an ideologue but the fact that she still thinks euthanasia is the way to go is sad

I originally thought forced euthanization was disgusting and now I’m hindsight it’s still disgusting and solves nothing.

I still hate it. The lesser evil doesn't mean it's an optimal solution. Would've kept Kiyomi's plan by sacrificing Historia and only attacking the military forces to keep them at bay.

Thinking with logic only, Zeke had a good plan, but if we put emotions and moral in to play, it's just horrible. I don't support it, not even now.

It's a terrible plan. Eren's plan is evil AF, but it's not stupid. Zeke's plan it's stupid. Imagine throwing your entire nation under the bus because your dad didn't hug you? Zeke's a loser.

Maybe so in this messed up world, but then again no. Both plans are awful, the answer to solving this question was to stop hatred in the first place and find a way to have a conversation with everyone. Clearing the air, stopping the rumors and fake news regarding Eldians being devils, etc.

Both plans are shit. 50 year plan + a partial Rumbling (in other words probably Armin's choice) is the most logical plan.

Denying children being born is denying a human being to grow and live their own live, and experience the world. I never accepted Zeke's plan and never will.

Depends whether you were born in Paradis or outside of Paradis.

Eren's plan is better. It ensures Eldians can survive and continue to grow. Zeke's plan just makes them die out. Me no likey.

50 year plan gang 50 year plan gang

Both plan suck.. But everything fair in love and war so... The winner was the one who right

There has to be some third option we/they just can't think of that doesn't involve genociding the entire planet *or enslaving another young woman (Historia in this case)

Zeke's plan was the lesser evil OF THESE TWO (Rumbling and Euthanasia). They should have found a third, peaceful option that doesn't kill anyone off.

“Evil is evil, Stregobor. Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit, I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.”

JEAN SEEMED RATTLED BY FLOCH’S FINAL WORDS. HOW DO YOU THINK THEY WILL AFFECT JEAN? 1,641 responses

We’ve seen Jean yearn for a peaceful life on Paradis, and Floch has tried to convince him to give in to that desire before. Did Floch’s dying words do anything to further affect Jean? About 69% of respondents say that we will see Jean think on them, but he’ll end up staying with his current convictions. Interestingly, among the 17.8% who think he will change his mind on helping the alliance, 12.9% think he’ll join Eren and actively oppose the alliance, vs. the 4.9% who think he’ll just abandon the mission like Annie.

After 127 no way is Jean leaving the Alliance. However, I think this will affect his resolve and affect whatever discussion they end up having over how to stop Eren.

Dies trying to avenge Mikasa

He was rattled by Floch's dying moments, as he was one of the last survivors from the Survey corps of Erwin's time

He'll single-handedly stop Eren by telling him how cringe his followers are

he's gonna hesitate when he shouldn't have and will die for it

I feel like it's not the words, but the actions--Floch is who Jean could have been if he didn't see past his own self-interest.

Floch died so his homeland could live. His noble death will inspire Jean to fulfill his duty as a soldier of ELDIA, and oppose the alliance. Thus, Floch will have helped Eldia one last time. Even after he died.

He's too coward to do something about it. Jean's arc was all about suppressing his own desires and keep moving forward; he's a slave of his sense of duty.

I smell another sacrifice coming.

I think it's too late for him to change his mind at this point. We're almost at the end. He'll move forward because that's what he promised Marco. He won't be able to look him and his comrades in the eye if he alters his stance.

WAS ARMIN THE BEST CHOICE AS COMMANDER? 1,639 responses

From Keith to Erwin, to Hange to Armin. Was that the right step to take in the line of succession? The majority, at 61.8% believe that Armin is the perfect choice, at least for this particular Eren scenario. Just over a quarter, at 26.5% are sticking with Marco saying Jean has the potential to lead. 11.7% are wishing Hange stayed in command instead.

I didn't like the way Hange died and how she left the commander role to Armin. He's probably the worst person to take the job, not long ago he was literally trying to kill himself (chapter 126) cause that's how insecure he is.

"I both believe Jean makes a better overall commander than Armin *and* that Hange's choice in this instant was the correct one.

Jean has more of a skill and flair for leadership. He is, as Marco once said, the every man which makes it easier to follow him. With his attitude, he can inspire others to follow his plans even if they do not closely know him. He also has some more confidence in himself. He doesn't have Armin's mind for crazy strategies, but he still can reasonably think of his feet and is willing to take hard decisions and sacrifices as they are needed. If the story was still like it had been earlier in the manga, with a big Survey corps and regular missions, he should be the commander.

People are arguing who ""deserved"" to be the commander between Armin and Jean, when it doesn't fucking matter because there are like 5 people left in ""old"" SC and they are all on a suicide mission. What *does* matter is that everything was pushed on poor Armin yet again, first Erwin was allowed to die and his legacy was put on him and Hange, who never asked for this, now Hange killed themselves too and left Armin to solve this shit by himself. I wish he would call out Levi, because his decision in Serumbowl is what led to this mess, but we'll probably not get that.

Jean shouldve be the commander but it's okay to be armin

Either Hange should've lived or Jean should've been the commander

Armin becoming Commander was probably the highlight of this chapter for me

I thought it was a good death for hange, but also kind of a combo of all of the above choices; their death seemed rushed just to make armin commander. I don’t hate armin, but I don’t think he should be commander, and it feels so much like isayama had NOTHING planned for hange ad commander, which was extremely disappointing. but at least hans is at peace lol

Armin as commander? Really? He has never really led troops in to battle. He is not a logistician or a tactician. He is only a good strategist, but even then he failed to plan for everything that Eren has so far done. Can you imagine him turning into a titan and attempting to direct everyone? He’ll kill them all or put them on fire by waving his arms. I’m so worried for him and for Jean too. Jean is suppose to be the next commander or why else is he even here?

A bit sad we didn’t get much time with her a commander, but she was a GOAT

A "You Tried" commander that was truly ineffective. Erwin should've been kept around.

Each Survey Corps Commander (current or former) all dedicated their hearts to protect humanity. If someone or something threatens their mission and their lives, they do what is necessary to uphold the mission, mainly giving up their lives in order to give time for their comrades to act. Their sacrifices affect their closest allies to the point that they have to carry on their mission by any means necessary.

Felt like a filler commander for Armin wish Hange had gotten to do more and be more successful

1- Armin isn't the new commander of the survey corps because the SC belongs to Paradise island and he & his group betrayed that place .

2- Armin is the new commander of the alliance .

Not sure of making Armin commander the best choice but mmm yeah, Isayama needed them out of the way to make a final Armin/Eren confrontation *sigh*

survey cops commander is the worst position you can find yourself at the moment. I can't even imagine what's on Armin mind right now

Armin does actually make the better leader. The problem in front of them is Eren. Even though he doubts himself right now, Armin has always been able to understand Eren and get through to Eren in a way others (and definitely not Jean) can't. He's also capable of thinking outside of the box in a manner that this situation needs. Though he's only now made commander, throughout the Rumbling arc, we've already seen that his closest friends look to him for leadership/plans. And while he still lacks self-confidence (though, who knows, maybe he'll get a special Levi talk??) a lot of his other leadership flaws (like his limited ability to command and inspire groups) are not relevant now because there isn't huge group of people anymore. There is just a handful of his friends left who already trust in his abilities. He doesn't need to inspire loyalty right now; that has already been built over years.

Narratively speaking the Alliance are the true successors of the SC, not the Jaegerist and the 15th commander is Armin, not Floch.

Hange should've stayed alive.

king jean commander jean ftw

COULD SOMEONE ELSE HAVE TAKEN CARE OF THE COLOSSALS IN PLACE OF HANGE? 1,621 responses

We’re losing a lot of veterans lately and suddenly. After Magath and Keith’s sacrifice a few chapters ago, was Hange’s necessary as well? The vast majority, at just over ¾ say that others could have technically taken the role, but Hange was still the best choice to stay behind, as morale would be drained much more by the commander sending others to their deaths.

A mix between love and hate. With Shadis' death (specially after Nile and Pixis) I thought that Isayama was judt getting rid of a veteran again. But Hange's death at least had her in character, and she was the one who deserved to see her comrades the most.

At first it was nice to see them sacrificing themselves but then I noticed i didn't really care much. It was too sudden and a copypaste of Magath's death

Hange died because the situation called for it. She did what she had to do because of Floch. I feel like the anime will make it much clearer that Hange HAD to die.

Shoulda been Reiner bruh

I think Armin could use his titan, stand on the water and push avery titan that was going to destroy the Angar but anyway

Shadis' death left a bad taste in my mouth since Magath could've handled the deed on his own. Shadis didn't need to die. Hanji too could've sent someone else in her stead; she is (was) the commander, a veteran, she was necessary. Not saying that I would've wanted Jean or Connie to die or anything, but sending one of these two or Mikasa to hold back the titans would've made sense.

WHAT IS THE TRUTH BEHIND THE SCENE WHERE HANGE MEETS THE DEAD SCOUTS? 1,649 responses

The scene where Hange, after having died, seems to wake up to meet the rest of the deceased Survey Corps members was a scene unlike any we’ve seen before in this manga. Isayama hasn’t shied away from the depressing reality of death before, so what exactly is happening here? 45.9% of respondents think it was strange enough that something real was happening, Paths, afterlife… something. 30.3% don’t buy it being real and think it was a symbolic scene, perhaps to lessen the pain of Hange’s death. 23.8% think it was purely in Hange’s mind, a euphoric experience to lessen the physical shock of death. Whatever it was, it was remarkable.

Purely symbolic, though I don’t mind if it has to do with Paths

The comrades scene its a metaphore of the relief she had sacrificing herself, being useful just like her comrades and friends before her.

Probably Valhalla, would be pretty badass if it was confirmed in the end to actually be Valhalla or something.

THE AOT AFTER LIFE IS REAL AND MY BBYS LIVE AGAIN 🤧😭

The author was trying to Placate the audience over killing off a popular character

The characters that died may have their happy ending in heaven

The dead comrades have always been watching over the living.

We only see Eldians, it very well could be a connection to Paths. And it seems like the people you go to are people you knew well and had a strong connection with. ALSO I'M HAPPY WE GOT A GLIMPSE OF SASHA and seeing Erwin for most likely the final time is cool too.

Afterlife real. Dead characters keep on living. Shifters go to PATHS, probably. Expect a specific someone to appear :)

Delusions of a naive and idealistic character. Hange saw what Hange wanted to see.

Dunno, but i REALLY hope that was just Isayama softening the blow for Hanji fans and what not, otherwise having a true afterlife would render all deaths and racrifices pointless and would ruin the whole theme of survival the manga has.

Eren may be using PATHS fuckery to comfort Hange in her death.

I believe the final scene did happen as Instructor Keith is seen in the back and Hange should have no knowledge of his death.

I don't think Isayama particularly cares for fan service in any regard (though Annie x Armin might signal a change), so I don't think he'd dedicate that to make Hange's death any less tragic. I think there's something to it.

NOW THAT WE’VE SEEN THAT IT’S POSSIBLE FOR OUR DEAD FAVORITE CHARACTERS TO STILL HAVE THEIR SOULS, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE REST OF THE STORY? 1,621 responses

If these ghostly figures do make another appearance in the final confrontation, what on earth will they do?! 43.1% say they don’t matter damn it, because they’re not even real. 32.2% think the dead characters might be alive in some kind of afterlife, but it’s just an interesting part of the SnK universe. 18.8% think that PATHS will make its infinite fuckery known once again, and 6% think that those ghosts are going to make a difference standing up to Eren – how is he gonna fight against a million dead guys, huh?

The most interesting part about the data we got was a surge in responses for only this and the previous question. About 300 entries to the poll which only wanted to submit that “It was purely symbolic and Hange did not experience this,” and “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts. It was just in Hange’s mind or symbolic.” Now that is curious indeed. For someone who ain’t afraid of ghosts, I’m sensing some real trepidation here!

They likely will not interact with nor affect the coming events, as their roles have already played out.

" Valhalla’s battle-honed residents are there by the will of Odin, who collects them for the perfectly selfish purpose of having them come to his aid in his fated struggle against the wolf Fenrir {Fenir had been previously associated with Eren by fans} during Ragnarok – a battle in which Odin and the einherjar are doomed to die."

Setup for Reiner to converse with his fallen comrades.

Afterlife. Not convinced it's significant in any way, but would love it to be

An afterlife would be completely unnecessary for the story and make things needlessly more complicated for little reason/narrative payoff.

Feels like a set up for an ending where even if everyone dies they can be together in the afterlife

Mobuhan is fucking real

Hange is in heaven, surrounded by everyone who she's fought alongside. She can't help the alliance in any way, but she can watch them win. And they will win.

They are bystanders.

CARE TO EXPOUND YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS SCENE AND WHAT IT MEANS? 611 responses

Through PATHS the thought of 'Afterlife' is possible. And if it isn't, then it's nice to hallucinate something good while they're dying.

Is hange really dead?

it means ERWIN KNOWS WHAT'S IN THE BASEMENT AYEEEE

IT MEANS ERWIN GETS MORE LINES WOOO

y'know how from the start there's been the idea that the survey corps have been making sacrifices that no one will ever care about? this is a rebuke to that. Hange, like every other survey corps member, is watched over by their own dead and now Hange gets to be a part of the ghost crew that watches over the corps and occasionally appears to freak out the commander. I also tend to dislike the idea that this manga has a perfectly happy afterlife because it cheapens the goal they're fighting for and comes dangerously close to validating Reiner's attempt.

You should have given a choice of this is symbolic. Ya'll should really read more fiction if ya'll think this is really the afterlife ffs

Afterlife makes all the deaths useless and less impactful, hope it's not a thing.

All the Eldians have the ability to “stay” alive after they die thanks to the paths dimension.

All this suffering to get an afterlife?!?

Although I do think that an afterlife could be possible, I don't think it'll affect the story. It may come back during the epilogue, but I can't figure out how Isayama could use it for the main story plot.

Anything is possible, either it's Hange's own hallucinations or something real. Though i would like for it to be smth tangible, (esp since a clue was that Hange didn't know Shadis died but he appeared anyways). idk I'd just like for everyone to be happy and see each other again 😭

Beetroot alive in PATHS and he's gonna kill Eren

Being dead is happier than living in this world, such an uplifting moral Isayama

Both Hange and Erwin thought about their comrades and "saw" them when their role was weighing on them. I don't think I have nothing against it being real, but I like the symbolism. Some things are cooler when I don't overthink.

Perhaps it will be less edgy to see so much death if there is an afterlife in SnK, but use the opportunity well! For me it was a gift to see the veterans again: Moblit caring for Hange, Erwin being in peace, Mike being there after the impact that he gave us…

every time "ghosts" have been shown in attack on titan they've just been visual depictions of the character's mental state.

Everyone who begged to see Erwin in another chapter can finally be at peace

Expansion of what chapter 85 already implied

I don't care, I'm just happy we get to see our babies again.

I think it is some sort of a special place in paths because they are standing on where Hange died, that's really weird if if it's afterlife, if it's afterlife they should be in a paradise or a peaceful place, but no. It's weird if they are all ghosts like almost the survey corps are in that area

I think it means that every dead soldier have meaning and we shouldn't forget them

I think it shows that their deaths weren’t in vain and they are watching over their comrades. It was a truly moving scene.

I think it's symbolic. Honestly with all the discourse around this scene I am not sure if it was even worth it to include.

I don't believe she's dead. We have an unexplained memory shard of her without glasses (ch130) and one of the panels this chp looks like she lost her glasses.

if levi could hurry up and join them that´d be great

If Yams tries to pull a kny I'm gonna rip him a new one. This is bullshit and he should stop before people believe there is an afterlife in aot. This doesn't fit into the story he created for years. But he is willing to kill his own world in hopes to get some readers back from stealing smth from a way more successful manga. It's pathetic.

Im still in doubt if the afterlife scene really happened since erwin is still missing his arm while the others are just fine. I hope its all just in hange's head and that someone from the boat could rescue her.

It might be the Path. Because just like Eren Kruger said, "All Eldians is connected to what we say the coordinate." This maybe a paradise or a heaven that Eren or someone with the founding titan and royal blood can control.

It only serves to dramatize hange's death. No shit, I was crying like hell when I read this scene😭😭 other than that it's just like other deaths we've seen before, only to set a dramatic and brutal tone for a thriller series

The remaining of Hange blood in the floor indicates she/he was already dead, so no hallucinations in her last moments. Symbolic? Doesn’t sound like isayama. The only symbolic stuff in manga concerns the cult to Ymir. Has to be a connection through paths.

They really gave their hearts to humanity, they were all incredible, and it's really nostalgic to see them in this way

This scene wasn't here for no reason. It just felt different from any other vision we've seen, and I believe it'll come into play later on.

This was Hange's imagination because she saw the dead ones in the same shape she saw them alive last time like Mike and Nanaba. Erwin too(without one hand)

those who died are finally set free

You just died and entered spectator mode

FAVORITE PIECK MOMENT THIS CHAPTER? 1,601 responses

For a chapter not focused on Pieck plotwise, there sure were a lot of short moments with her. The two most popular options being her shooting down Hange’s ask for a ride with no hesitation, and vowing to give her comrade’s sacrifices meaning. A moment of meme and a moment of serious nature, perfectly balanced.

Idk but Pieck is a bad bitch

Pieck sounds like she may turn on everyone in the end but I hope not.

pieck finger = some kind of marleyan erwin smith

Pieck is gonna DIE 😭

Pieck isn't really interesting....and she doesnt do any Import to the others....Just for Reiner maybe

Pieck will sacrifice herself for the sake of her fallen comrades. (that's what I think)

WHICH “FRINGE” THEORY DO YOU BELIEVE IN? 1,597 responses

Despite the manga racing towards its conclusion crack theorists have had no shortage of new material, most recently with the bizarre amount of focus given to birds and Hange’s warm welcome to the afterlife. We wanted to find out which of these fringe theories have a broader appeal.

Nearly half the fandom is no fun at all, selecting “These theories are all just cope” (49%). For the rest of us “Birds are spies” apparently requires the least amount of tin foil since just over a third of the fandom thinks it has potential (35.4%). “The ghosts are real” (16.7%), Historia’s pregnancy is fake (13.7%) and the “The birds ARE the ghosts” (8.7%) didn’t fare quite as well.

Overall a great chapter. But this whole Theory of there being an afterlife in Attack on Titan is utterly ridiculous and extreme coping.

The afterlife thing was completely garbage and was easily the worst part of the chapter.

I believe that afterlife exists. It has nothing to do with paths, titan powers or religions. It is just afterlife, where souls of dead soldiers may find a peace. The world of SnK was always "cruel but also beautiful". Cruel - because innocent people die, but beautiful - because there is still a hope for happiness for their souls.

the birds...work for the bourgeoisie

I hope it's all symbolism but these "dead people" motive have been weirdly often mentioned in the story. People asking Erwin if he thinks that "dead have no regrets" in season 1. Levi Ova called " No regrets". Erwin asking Levi if he thinks that dead are watching them in S.3. There is also role Valhalla plays in Ragnarok in Mythology...

WHICH MOMENT OF LEVITY BEFORE THE DOOM OF THIS CHAPTER WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 1,633 responses

THAT face from Mikasa was the highlight for 28.2% of you. I don’t think she’s ever been that stunned. 22.8% loved that one of Hange’s priorities was getting to ride the Cart Titan in the future, and Pieck not having it. 17.6% enjoyed Levi being the butt of a joke even as Hange was about to meet their doom, and 14.5% appreciated Levi throwing his fans a finger bone. Annie talking with Reiner about the good old days earned a laugh for 13.3% of you, and 3.5% liked seeing Levi throw shade at Yelena’s kinks.

the "what the heck" face on mikasa's face after realising annieés feelings made my day.LOL

Levi x Yelena is cute and soon to be canon

Poor Levi. He cearly is still not recovered but his comment on being forgotten was a nice knock on the fourth wall.

Uh... you feeling okay, Yelena?

"I AM GONNA KILL THE BEAST TITAN" "Okay grandpa, now let's get you to bed"

DESCRIBE THE CHAPTER IN ONE WORD 1,065 responses

I get the feeling this chapter was a little upsetting for many. But then again, three over the top five words were the same as last month! Such is the life of an SnK fan. The top five words this time were:

Pain [143] Sad [56] Heartbreaking [29] Emotional [24] Sacrifice [20]

For those of you still thinking this is a cookbook, it's obvious you're making soup for your souls. Tangy, Cheesy, Hot, Chile, and YAMS must be the dish that represents this chapter.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,634 responses

Are we actually about to see the final confrontation?! I can hardly believe it, but 48.6% of you are goddamn ready for it. 17.9% still want to see Historia’s own POV (what, weren’t you satisfied with that one convoluted flashback?), and 15.5% would like to see some kind of discussion before the alliance launches into an undoubtedly insanely reckless maneuver. Also, Zeke had better come back soon or I’ll forget to put him in the options again!

girl i wanna see eren with the alliance

Next chapter I hope to see Zeke, you didn't put the option

We really really need to see Historia. She's been missing from the narrative for so long, and the flashback crumbs from Eren's memories explained nothing.

Surprises ..!!! More of them...flashback about carl fritz ...zeke ...more about eren ...we wanna more important moments and facts

I'd like to know what happened with Zeke. Is he dead? Is he merged with Eren? Is he still back on paradis? What's going on?

Alright, where is Zeke? I've lost my patience.

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,492 responses

Reddit maintains the lead this month, with just a few percentage points over Twitter, which takes second. A bit behind Twitter is “In real life”, which goes to show that Attack on Titan fans are total chads with social lives. Stay safe and don’t die though! After real life comes Discord, with 22.3% of the vote. Trailing Discord, in order, is Instagram, Youtube, “I don’t”, Facebook, 4Chan, the wiki, Snapchat, and Steam. Much to my dismay, this question was made multiple choice this month, which MEANS that, in theory, some of you could have ~erroneously~ voted Snapchat. Either that’s the case, or you lot are multiplying far faster than I’d anticipated… I’m going to elect to believe the former on account of not wanting to believe the latter.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER? 497 responses

What the fuck is doing the survey corps

where is that goddamn monke

WHERE IS THE MONKE

snkpolls admins please hold me

Floch with wet hair looks cool.

Glad to see yams isnt afraid to kill characters, I was getting worried.

I have a love/hate relationship with Floch, and while I disagree with the rumbling, his last words got to me and it was sad.

I honestly found Floch's death to be tragic, even though he was a bastard, he still believed he was fighting for Paradis's wellbeing

I laughed when random Floch appeared, but I hate that his actions lead to Hange deciding to sacrifice herself.

Even though the manga it's coming to an end Isayama really gives us details which is interesting in order to understand the storyline but I'd like more action

Even though we didn't see him this chapter, Hanji's sacrifice took me from "Eren must be stopped" to "I WILL strangle Eren to death with my own two hands". Dude's ground-breaking idea of rumbling got Hanji killed and he will pay for that.

Everything about this chapter was just so breathtaking. I Loved this chapter so much it was just amazing. Words can’t even describe how I feel. Only thing I didn’t like was floch shooting the plane. God answering these just makes me wanna cry.

Also Bert mentions! We're finally going to see him soon and have a long-awaited RB-union!

REALLY GLAD I FOUND AOT BEFORE IT ENDS , I wish Annie and armin ends up, and jean and mikasa 👀👀👀 dont judge me please. It really gave more insight on the feelings of the alliance now.

WHY ISAYAMA, WHY?!

Why no Bertholdt :(

Why no one is happy?

I feel like the fandom would've broken if only an Alliance member died, so to make things equal, we lost a Yeagerist and an Alliance member.

EREN IS A VILLAIN

FLOCH DID NOTHING WRONG

Listen. I couldn't stop crying, like UGLY sobs, from the moment Hange says they're gonna "do it" and then they become all "Armin Arlert" and "I hereby name you" and then I was DONE. Buckets of tears, squealing noises, repeating "no no no" while rereading the same panels over and over again. I Loved Hange. I loved them so much. They were THAT kind of weird, they were passionate, smart, funny... I loved them, but I love how they got to choose how to die, and when, and especially knowing their death will be useful for the others. They died fighting brilliantly, and I will love them, and they will inspire me forever. Farewell Hange, have a nice time in the afterlife with all your fallen comrades, knowing you can stand tall and proud among them.

No one can force Annie to stay. But I can't believe everyone's just fine with this. The world is fckin' ending and only by a miracle they can win, there's NO WAY those people are compromised to the gravity of the situation if they're all just "yeah, Annie is a titan and she's out, let's get the other titan too because he's a kid, Pieck I thought you were coming to the ship too?", because it really sounds like they're not even trying at this point. Is this a walk in the park or the destiny of all people in the world?? :/

Levi’s “see you later, Hange” reminds me of Mikasa’s “see you later, Eren” in the first chapter. A foreshadow of Eren’s eventual demise?

There still isn't a third realistic alternative.

Hange sacrifice was the greater good and I hope the alliance makes the most of this chance, For those they have lost. For those they can yet save

Hange knows their time is near and they are correct.

There was no need to kill off Hange, felt forced and rushed

this armin/annie stuff had better go somewhere plotwise after wasting cringy panels on it that could have been dedicated to less rushed interactions between other alliance members. might as well just kill the alliance off at this point and let reiner finally die, since their chapters are such a drop in quality.

This chapter and the previous two are perfect reminders that we're at the point of no return in the final arc. While I want to see some good moments, twists, and any loose ends tied by now (Zeke, WHERE ARE YOU?!!), it's all going to be all doom and gloom from here on out. Whether Eren or the Alliance succeeds depends on how these next chapters turn out; Whoever wins, bloodshed will continue until the Rumbling ends.

I realised Hange probably has huge survivors guilt and that she wanted to die, and wanted to make her old friends proud(who are dead)

They all really cared for Hange a lot and that's sweet.

They should have a concrete plan on how to stop eren if they could

Things are gonna get wild.

Great chapter, and I'm really excited to see how the Alliance and Eren confrontation plays out. This ending has the potential to be absolutely legendary.

Half of the characters have no hope in what they are doing (the "leaders") but do that because "ThEY hAD tO" and another half will makes me sad because they dont care about eren plan really (not speaking about gaby and falco)

Hange could have exited the story in another way, I guess.

Hange's death should have been more dramatic.

Hange's death was handles perfectly and the chapter had it's fair share of humour.

Hange's death was rushed, could've been better handled. Floch's selfless death was the only high point, and maybe LH being semi-confirmed.

Honestly, I don't hate Hange but I wish she had lived to see the consequences of her betrayal of Paradis, by putting her own feelings and morals over her own people's wellfare; for better or worse, her actions will have huge repercussions on the entire island and she should be there to take responsibility over the inevitable fallout. Even though she never tried to avoid responsibility over her choices, and I genuinely respect her for sacrificing herself over her ideas, it honestly feels to me like death was an easy way out from having to deal with Paradis' fate (SPECIALLY if the Valhalla stuff is real) while leaving Armin to clean up her mess.

Levihan is real

i expected sex on the ship or aruani huge/kiss/touch

Honestly, I'm just following it because I got used to reading a chapter every month, but the story is terrible now. Hange's death only served to confirm that Isayama intends to have a 'final battle' between childhood friends, nothing unexpected.

hope we get more from Jean

Hope we now start going into the final confrontation cause this chapter seemed setup to that.

As I've said before, I'll miss Hange. RIP you absolute legend.

Hopefully we get to see historia

Hoping for more Hanji backstory.

I don’t need a heart to live

I don’t see how this story can have any sort of a happy ending

I dont see a possible ending where all these characters can live the rest of their lives in peace but oh well

This chapter dropped massive death flags on Armin and Pieck. These two aren't going to last. Yelena is probably dead from compartment syndrome next chapter.

This chapter honestly makes me more scared for Levi because I was hoping he would get the kind of ending that Hange got. Now we just have to wait and wonder about how much more pain Isayama is going to put him through.

ZEKE WHEN ?????? I MISS YOU

I’m frustrated with the direction the story is going in. Armin being made commander, Hange dying, Annie being brought back just to confess to Armin and then be sidelined, Mikasa being the one to kill Floch, it all just seems to make little narrative sense. I don’t feel like we’re building to a clever twist, it all feels capricious and random

After comparing Hange’s death in the manga to Erwin’s death in the manga, I can safely say that Hange’s death was better. Hange’s had comedy like her complaining about how hot the CTs were and of course that line she said to Pieck, it was sad with the Levi and Hange moments and the chapter’s conclusion, and it was epic with her killing 3-4 Colossal Titans, getting scorched to death and her dead body falling until she got trampled in the Rumbling. Erwin’s was just epic with bringing the entire Survey Corps going down with him. If Mappa does well with the anime, this will break the internet for sure and this death will be remembered.

bruh my favorite character just fucking died

It was a quick way for removing another veteran. I feel that the vets sacrifice their lives too easily. They see their own existance like it was some rpg game and they were going to go back to life after while. First Magath and Shadis decided to commit heroic suicide, now Hange decided to leave this world "just like that"/ C'mon, people don't give up with their lives so fast..

Oh, and this chapter made me start shipping levihan!

characters stop dying challenge

This and next chapter are the calm before the storm. And once that storm comes, this is going to end up as either a great story or a perfect story. Also, what the heck happened to Zeke? I need answers on that matter.

At this point the only way for this story to end in a satisfying manner is for Eren to kill everyone, successfully finish the Rumbling and save his people.

Aún estoy llorando.

I feel Hange should have been given more space to make a bigger impact as a commander. It’s like, Erwin always made gambles that magically worked out for him in the grand scheme of things (for the most part and in a group with a horrible survival rate like the SC no less) but for whatever reason Hange just stuck their thumb up their butt and twirled the whole time. Sometimes making one character smart results in everyone else only being allowed to have one shared brain cell. Overall I liked Hange a lot but they were done dirty. And blaming Eren for everything? Lol Hange. You can put your clown nose on now.

Overall best leader? Jean. Best leader for this particular set of circumstances? Armin.

I can't wait until the Alliance realize their futile efforts and come face to face with the reality that, Eren has power over the memories of all subjects of Ymir and can control their titan shifting.

Isayama just want to kill everyone,isn't he? In every chapter we've got deaths this is just depressing. Isayama I respect you but I hate you but I respect you but I hate you.

I cried buckets while reading it, so props to Isayama for that! :)

I cried when Floch died and I laughed when Hange died .

I don't have words for that. I am just lucky enough to be able to witness this work while

Pain. So much pain. Levihan pain. Aruani pain... *cries for a week while preparing self for more tears in the near future*

i just want everyone to be friends again😭

Jean has not been about stopping Eren from the get-go. I think we are up for a MAJOR revelation about his own involvement in Eren’s plans.

Hange should be survived

Hange should've not died in this chapter since we still do not know the clear plan of the alliance. Their death was written in a hurry, not as epic as Erwin.

Hange was my favorite character. But, as much as I am sad to see her go, her last moments were pretty epic, I am looking forward to see how it will affect the rest of the story.

Hange wasn't a good commander no matter how much her fans cry about it. her being a good character is another thing altogether.

My babies Yelena, Pieck, Reiner, Gabi, and Falco deserve the world.

Hange's manner of death, in her own terms fighting to save others, is my favorite so far.

Hanji death was unnecessary and Floch death only made Allience look worse then they already are

0/10 no Zeke

Jean is the only one who undestands eren and Floch

Jean never really supported the Alliance, he will try to reason Eren's plan isn't all that bad.

Jean will see Flochs words as a possible option but i dont see him going through with opposing The Alliance. He made his choice when he joined them.

(THE DEAD SPEAK LMAOOO) I really liked this chapter but it’s still horrible and traumatizing like the 131 (wait actually the 131 is way more horrible 😭)

Amazing art as always.

Amazing yet sad chapter since I respected both hange and falco and to see them die was pretty sad.

ANNIE AND ARMIN FOREVER. I want her to be free to be soft and caring and to have someone who loves and adores her. I love this dynamic and I think it’s a good foil to Eren and Historia

ANNIE IS THE BEST GIRL!

I want Reiner to live on as the clinically depressed sole survivor.

i’m still broken. hange and sasha were my comfort characters✌🏻😭

Idc but your quiz suck

Idk its just i'm pretty sad about hange's death cuz she was one oof my top waifus

One of my favorites ✊😔 rip Hange

One ship. I just want ONE CANON SHIP by the end of this, Isayama. JUST ONE. Is it really too much to ask, man. I've already given you plenty of my tears to sip on so idk what more you want from me...

Only Armin, Mikasa, Levi and Reiner will survive.

OUCH

Please stop making Levi suffer be it a final rest or a peaceful life anything PLEASE

Please, don't let anyone else die :(

Plot wise it was shit, but I love it for the drama

POGGERS

Poor Levi. Everyone important to him was taken away. Also, HANGE GOAT.

Poor Reiner.

rest in peace Hange "nonbinary icon" Zoe

rest in peace king, now is in Eren hand to keep giving meaning to your life

Really was good. Hange went out in a great way.

Surprised Floch didn't end up killing anyone, especially no named engineers, Yelena or Connie.

The way Mikasa shot the grappling hook at Floch’s throat was like how Levi killed an MP by shooting their throat during Uprising. Ackermans can access the battle experience of other Ackermans through Paths – Mikasa learnt that move from Levi.

I would think that this chapter should have gotten into more interactions between Armin and Annie, because i feel as though their relationship should be explored a bit further. Given that we know that both do like each other, it should be seen on how these two handled their possibly last goodbyes.

I'm just gonna let it flow

I'M NEVER GETTING OVER HANJI'S DEATH

Hange is one of the most well-written characters of a manga abounding with them. I love the way they always stayed true to their ideals without wavering, despite all their doubts about their suitability as Commander. Their open-mindedness, humour and love for knowledge make them truly special, and their most quintessential line must be this one from chapter 127: "'Just bringing freedom to this island is enough for me'. Do you think a single one of [the dead Survey Corps] would be so narrow-minded as to say that?" Chills. Very glad they chose Armin as their successor as well before taking down the colossals. They will be missed.

I'm quite curious about Armin's next moves. He is the commander now after all. Also, wondering what Levi is going to do now.

I'm really curious about the weapon that Yelena brought up to the alliance

i get the feeling that annie has had all the closure she needs and she’s gonna die but at least she might pass on her power to gabi ? either way i’ll be devastated to see her go

I HATE it that Hanji had to die, but loved the way she got her heroic moment. It's a love/hate chapter for me.

I have fears of Annie to die

I hope Levi lives just so he can be the most tragic character in AOT.

I hope soon, eren can stop all of this thing

I it wasn’t for the spoilers, Hange’s death would have break my heart.

I just hope Levi found his peace and die, please. He's already lost Hange, please don't make him suffering more.

I just thought it was impressive that this was one of the three moments in the whole story that actually made me ugly cry (Other two were Hannes' death and Serumbowl)

The more i think on Hanges death the more i like/understand it.

The sad looks on Levi and Hanji's faces are enough to say thousands of unspoken words. Nuff said.

Reiner is immortal

reiner looked hot af

This beast of a man, how many hours did he spend nearly drowning with a wounded arm? I got to really care about him even if his ""political"" choice was the worst. I just wanted him to have a dignified end and he had (even if Jean wasn't the one to do it). And the vignette... Perfect. In the end, he really fought as the devil he needed so much, no matter their identity. Relax, honey. Now you're safe from Eren's bullshit.

i miss hanji

I need HISTORIAAAA

I need more PATHS and I smell it coming

...i´m tired.

The Survey Corps never actually fought for humanity prior to the Rumbling, only against it. Hange even states this irony in chapter 89. The "well, the Corps was always fighting for humanity" rationalization is just disingenuous cope that ignores everything that got revealed with the basement and, by extension, the plot itself.

Super based

I really just want to see how this ends already.

I still can't believe Hange died. And to think that Levi's got no one else in his life anymore breaks my heart. I've always think that Levi and Hange should be together until the end. Not shipping them tho. I don't if it's platonic or romantic,but they love and care for each other. And Levi realising that his only friend is going to die and his eyes turn dark like an abyss really makes me feel like broken in half. And that dedicate your heart scene..oh my god I can't. And Hange still got some nerves to joke around at time really made me goes "HANGEEE-SANN!!"༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

Floch's final moments were sorely needed to remind us just how human he really is. He didn't care about ruling the country or destroying the alliance. All he wanted was for his people and the island to survive, and he felt the alliance was putting that in jeopardy so he did what he thought he had to do.

Isayama keeps killing my favorite characters

I liked the chapter but it felt unnecessary Floch probably should have died before the boat left and Hange was killed off to lighten the cast and make Armin commander. Hange and Levi probably could have died/stayed in the forest.

R.I.P. in horny titan jail

I like this manga. Very much so ❤

#snk polls #snk poll #snk chapter 132 #snk poll results

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redrobin-detective · 5 years ago

Note

If you’re still taking prompts, how about an AU where the current user of OFA needs to view the next user as family (sibling, child, etc.) to be able to pass it on and how that would change canon. Not blood relationships specifically how they view them

Oh this is so cute, also the last of the mini prompts, this was fun thanks everyone who submitted!

Nana had told him that One For All was a special quirk, that it could be passed on but only under special circumstances. “You need love, squirt,” she’d said one training session, ruffling his unruly blond hair. “It was part of the first users quirk, only people the holder loved and was loved by in return could receive it. It’s a protective measure and ensures AFO will never get his hands on it.”

“Is that why we spend so much time together,” Toshinori asked nervously, “to uh-”

“Oh Toshi,” she sighed, pulling him close. “I already love you, I'm here because I want you to be as ready as possible to take OFA.” She pulled him back smiling fondly and giving one of his longs bangs a playful little flick. “I took one look at your sweet, determined face and it was love at first sight. And one day, hopefully a long, long time from now, it will be the same with your successor.”

Toshi kept those words close to his heart, held them tight when Nana died and he was sent away to America. Thought of them often late at night when the stress of being Number One kept him up. Damn near obsessed over them after his injury and his days as All Might were dwindling. He needed a successor and fast but because of his busy schedule, he barely had friends much less people he loved. He loved Torino-sensei but the man had retired years ago. He loved Nao but he was an overworked police officer, not a hero. And Nighteye, well they hadn’t spoken in years. It was quite sad to be able to count his closest friends on one hand, with fingers left over.

He’s feeling despondent when he saves a green haired young fan from a sludge villain and accidentally has his true form revealed. Depressed and angry, he tells the boy about his injury.

“So what you’re saying is you need a successor,” the boy mutters to himself before shaking his head and speaking louder. “You need to find someone to take your place.”

“Exactly,” Toshi says a little surprised, “I’m having a bit of trouble in that regard though...” The boy steps back and dips into a low bow.

“Let me help you All Might, as apology for my intrusion into your private life. I’m great with research and because I’m plain and quirkless people don’t pay me any mind. I’ll find you a successor so you can retire if er that’s alright with you, sir,” the kid trails off, playing with his fingers.

“Yes, I think that would be fine,” Toshi says with a small smile, a little bit endeared at the boy’s energetic mumbling and fumbling. “Now come on, lets drop this sludge guy off at the station and get started.”

He exchanges more texts with the boy, Midoriya Izuku, in one week than he believes he has since he returned from America. The boy is a fountain of information, most of it irrelevant but Toshi finds himself reading through the boy’s meticulous if scatterbrained notes on the ideal qualities needed in a candidate. More often than not, he compares said candidates to the skittish but kind boy he stumbled upon.

“You’re a damn fool is what you are, Toshinori,” Torino-sensei groans when Toshi calls to tell him that he’s found someone to help him find a successor. “Bring the kid round when you get the chance.”

“Young Midoriya or my future successor?”

“You’re an absolute disaster,” Torino-sensei sighs really loudly before hanging up. Toshinori stares at the disconnected phone in confusion. He tells Young Midoriya who just shrugs, looking positively adorable with a pencil completely entangled in his hair and a few sticky notes stuck on him. Nana would have loved this kid.

His old sidekick contacted him out of the blue to offer a candidate, a third year at Yuuei who was cheerful, charismatic and had a difficult but powerful permeation quirk.

“I’ve reviewed Sir Nighteye’s notes, I really think Togata-san might be the one,” Young Midoriya says with a sad little smile. “I guess it’s almost the end of the line for us, it’s been and honor a privilege to help you, All Might. I’ll be sure to support both you and your successor, whoever they may be.” The thought of never seeing this brilliant, ridiculous child again made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

“Well we’re not done yet, lets go visit this young man together. Can’t make such a big decision without my assistant, can I?” Young Midoriya beams and he’d say its like looking into the sun except he can barely look away. They make light conversation as they walk to Nighteye’s agency when a villain attacks, of course. He muscles up and starts to push the boy back but he’s already running forward.

“You stop the villain, I’ll get the civilians to safety!” He shouts in a rush. It really is a shame Young Midoriya didn’t have a quirk, he had the perfect personality for hero work. He listens to his young friend and dives into the battle.

He’s just about subdued the villain when they throw a punch into a nearby building causing large heaps of rubble to fall down over a screaming young couple. But his heart really jumps into his throat when Young Midoriya, sweet, funny, soft-spoken, quirkless, Young Midoriya, rushes forward to help them. Toshinori grabs the villain by the throat and speeds them both towards the scene where Young Mid- where Izuku has thrown himself over the terrified people. For an awful moment, he doesn’t think he’ll make it in time. However, while he rams the villains face into the building with one hand, knocking him unconscious, he pushes upwards at the rubble with his right, causing it to explode harmlessly before it can hurt anyone.

“All Might, are you crying?” Young Midoriya asks with concern, reaching a hand out.

“You reckless boy,” Toshinori says thickly, wrapping the boy under one arm and leaping away before anyone can ask questions he can’t or won’t answer. “You could have died.”

“I couldn’t just stand there, those people needed help,” Young Midoriya defends. “I’m nobody, only my mom would miss me but but-” Toshinori lands them on a roof, nearly identical to the one where they’d first met. He deflates and sets his thin, trembling hands on the boy’s shoulders.

His precious boy, who has come to mean so much to him in so little time, the perfect candidate right under his nose this whole time. Torino was right, he was a fool. But it had been so long since he’d felt a love this strong that he’d needed a little extra time to recognize it.

“I would miss you,” Toshi sniffs, pulling him into a hug like Nana had so long before. “I love you, my boy and, if you’ll forgive this doddering old fool for his slowness, would you do me the honor of being my successor?”

By the time they show up at Torino-sensei’s house, they’ve both cried themselves out and have acquired an unseemly large bowl of ice cream. The jet hero snorts, looking them over.

“Look at you two, like snoggy nosed peas in a pod. Well get on in here, if the kid’s going to be ready for the Yuuei entrance exam, we’re going to have to train him up fast.”

#ahhhhhhh this was fun #also the longest of the rest #I was just having so much fun #not technically a prompt but I'll tag it as such #BNHA writing prompts #Toshi: I need a successor who I love in order to pass on the quirk #Izuku: Hi #Toshi: fantastic! what a lovely young man who I adore with my whole heart #Toshi: gosh if only i could find someone I loved #Toshi: sure is sad #Torino: you stupid cabbage #Anonymous

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gamequeenanya · 5 years ago

Text

Listen to Logic - Logan and Remus (friendship)

Rated: PG

Warning: Tickling, food wasting, disturbing allusions.

Summary: When Logan feels neglected and unheard, will he find an ally in the unlikeliest of places? Does Remus still hold a grudge against Logan, or are they friends now? Will Thomas listen to Logan, or will the Orange Side win...? (Written like an episode.)

...

Thomas and Joan were wondering how to start the video. Cue Thomas thinking of various dad jokes and giggling to himself. Joan couldn't help laugh along.

"Oh, Thomas," they said in a villain-like voice. "You have such a cute laugh... It would be a shame if someone..."

Digging into their friend's sides, Joan let out an evil laugh. Thomas couldn't help double over and laugh hysterically. "...Exploited that!"

Escaping from their hold, Thomas, still giggling, told them to cut it out. With a sinister, yet jokey grin, Joan then exited the room. Composing himself, Thomas then looked at the audience.

"Anyways: 'What is up everybody!' Today we're going to be discussing how I'm going to fix the drainpipes of my kitchen sink. With me today are my sides, Roman, who represents my creativity, Patton, who represents my morality, and Virgil, who represents my Anxiety..."

As he motioned to the sides with his hand, they each appeared in their place. All except Virgil.

"Huh. I guess he must be busy." Thomas then turned to Roman and Patton. "So, guys, what do you think?"

“I think you should go for it, Thomas! Use that special wrench your mom got you for your birthday!” Roman said.

Patton wagged his finger. “Ah-ah-ah! What if you were to damage it? It was a special gift from your mom, so shouldn’t you cherish it?”

Roman fired back, “It’s a tool! They’re meant to be used! Your mom will understand!”

There was a sigh heard from the hallway next to the staircase. Thomas’ logical side was there the whole time. As he listened to the others’ discussion, Logan was getting frustrated. Thomas hadn't called on him once or even looked in his direction. Logan had tried to get a word in edgewise, but the others ignored him.

Meanwhile, Remus popped up behind Roman again, startling him.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you, Roman. I'm just here to remind you of the elephant in the room."

At this, Logan scoffed. "If there was an elephant in this room, Thomas would not only notice it, but..." He pulled out a vocab card and read it monotonously. "'Freak out.'"

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked Remus.

"Yeah," Patton said. "We're just having our usual discussion."

Remus grinned. Oh, this was rich! It seemed as though Mr. Orange was working double time. Distracting Thomas from his Logical side was no easy feat. Kudos to him! Giggling, he pointed to a certain place close to the stairs.

"I think you've forgotten someone!"

Virgil popped up just then. "Sorry I'm late." He was busy playing a video game on his phone. It was the Halloween version of Word Crush. "Important business."

Everyone smiled and cheered at seeing their gloomy friend again.

"Virgil!" Thomas said. "We missed you! The fans missed you! Say hi to everyone!"

Virgil turned to the audience and smirked, raising one hand up in a half-hearted wave. "S'up."

"He's so precious!" Patton squealed, clapping his hands. Remus rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, it's so nice to see you, Virgil... But it wasn't you I was talking about."

Virgil looked up curiously. He didn't mind Remus' somewhat rude tone... After Virgil had left the dark sides, he even expected it. But he wondered what Remus meant.

"Allow me to give you a hint!" Remus said, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, Thomas' white walls were covered in red Crofter's jam. The sides screamed in horror.

"You fiend!" Roman cried. "How dare you make Thomas imagine that!"

While Roman was crying over his favourite jam, a flicker of memory danced in Thomas' brain.

"You're right. There is someone I haven't been listening to!"

Everyone waited eagerly. Finally, Thomas confidently gave his answer.

"It's Joan! They had a lot of good ideas I didn't give a chance!"

Remus dragged his palm over his face. Unbelievable! If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself! Snapping his fingers, he turned into the aforementioned friend. Seeing Remus short and with black hair made everyone do a double-take.

"Listen closely, Thomas. It's Logan! You've been neglecting him!"

At this Thomas clutched his head as though it was enveloped in pain. He muttered, "Oh. My. Gosh... I am so sorry..."

"Are you alright, Thomas?" Logan asked.

"I... AH!" he cried out.

"Look at me, Thomas!"

He couldn't. All he could do was shake his head and close his eyes.

Roman turned to Remus. "I have an idea. Patton and I will distract You-Know-Who... You help Logan get Thomas' attention!"

Remus nodded. Still in his Joan form, he materialized behind Logan.

Curiously, Logan partially turned around. He had to wonder why Remus was adamant about helping him. After all, Logan had taken his power away not too long ago. Shouldn't Remus be angry? Wouldn't he be glad Thomas wasn't giving logic the time of day? Logan’s thoughts were interrupted by ten fingers skittering on his sides. Screeching, he flinched, hands flying protectively to his waist. He wiggled around, struggling to escape Remus' hold. He was incredibly ticklish! How did Remus know?! Remus didn't stop there, he skittered all over the man's stomach and pinched his ribs too. Logan laughed loudly and hysterically.

Suddenly, Thomas' attention snapped to Logan. A smile broke out on his face as he watched the scene. For a man who rarely smiled, let alone laughed, Logan's laugh was quite endearing.

"REMUS!! AHAHAAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHP!! HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I-I CAN'T! HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

He was trying to say he couldn't take it, but his laughter drowned him out. Even though the man was shorter than him, he’d caught him in a hold he couldn’t escape from. Remus wore a playful grin the entire time. Finally, he stopped, letting the man breathe. Logan turned to him, a large blush on his cheeks. Remus just waved his fingers at him.

"You're welcome!" he said before he disappeared.

Catching his breath, Logan realized all eyes were on him. This made him flush further. Remus had ensured they'd pay attention to him alright, but he'd done it in the most mortifying way. Yep, this was revenge for taking away his power, alright...

Straightening up, Logan cleared his throat, willing away the rest of his giggles. "A-as I was saying, Thomas..."

The boy looked to him with a smile, waiting intently.

"It would be best if you looked to a professional with your problem. There are reasons why we don't attempt to mess with the pipes ourselves."

"But he'd save money!" Roman protested.

Thomas shook his head. "No. Logan's right on this one. I've tried fixing my own drains before, and I just ended up making it worse. We had to call a professional in the end to fix my mistakes!"

The other sides nodded to Logan respectfully. Logan smiled back nervously, glad no one mentioned his previously exploited weakness.

When the other sides left, Thomas was alone with Logan.

"I don't know what came over me. Logan, I'm sorry that I've been ignoring you... Could you ever forgive me?" He walked over and reached out for a hug.

"Thomas..." he said. "We can't hug. Physically impossible. But I do accept your apology."

Thomas smiled. "Wait... I know a way we can hug..."

Logan realized it, and facepalmed. Of course! It was so obvious! He turned into Talyn.

The two friends hugged. They felt happy at the physical contact, and Logan was surprised at the flow of emotion within him. He almost teared up at the rarely received physical affection.

Perhaps Logic could be sentimental after all.

...

After Logan went back to his room, Thomas turned to the audience and spoke in a serious voice.

"So today we saw what happens when you ignore your logic for too long. You might end up making a terrible mistake in thinking you can fix something yourself and end up with leaking pipes, or you may put off your homework to the last second until your anxiety kicks in. If people are telling you to listen to your logical side, they probably aren't joking! Anyways, that's it! Hope you enjoyed, and we'll see you next time! Take it easy, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Peace out!

...

Bonus End Scene:

Thomas: I just wish there was some way I could make it up to you...

Logan: I'm sorry Thomas. There's really nothing you could offer me, other than listening more.

Thomas: (eyes shift back and forth from Logan to the fridge) By the way, I have some leftover Blueberry Crofters...

Logan: (in an excited, high-pitched voice) DID YOU SAY CROFTERS?!?!?! (runs to the fridge)

Thomas: (laughs hard and slaps his knee)

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #the orange side is implied #patton sanders #roman sanders #tickling #fanfiction #my writing #sanders sides fanfics #virgil sanders #sympathetic remus #lee logan #ler remus #lee thomas #ler joan

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x0401x · 6 years ago

Note

Hey miss wonderful taste in everything, can you recommend us some of your favorite KyoAni productions?

Sure! I love doing recs and I’m literally taking any sort of positive content related to KyoAni lately because we truly need it at the moment. Long post alert, though. Here goes my top 10:

1. Hyouka

This one will probably be my first choice forever. It’s KyoAni’s most brilliant work so far and easily one of the best animes I’ve ever watched, hands down. It’s also their finest novel-to-anime adaptation in my opinion, and one of the very few animation series that actually turned out better than their source material.

The books are extremely interesting, but they’re also bland. The alterations made to the anime added visual value to it in order to make it more alluring and appealing, turning ordinary situations into rather unique and thought-provoking settings, while managing to never deviate from its novel counterpart. The changes on the characters’ designs were also a very good choice in my opinion, as they fit more into the character archetypes and the impressions they give off.

This one is honestly an example for the whole anime industry and a timeless gem. I’m pretty certain that it was one of the studio’s turning points in terms of animation style. Surely will become a classic in the future.

2. Koe no Katachi

KyoAni’s most well-done movie, as far as I can tell. I’m specially fond of the symbolism of every scene and the effort put on the scenery, which gave an effect of depth to the frames. The studio managed to portray the mangaka’s art style while staying true to its own trademark traits as well.

Animation quality and sound design aside, it’s also loyal enough to the manga. There were cuts in order to fit the story into the time limit, but KyoAni made up for the gaps with later released specials. The movie is also considerably less dramatic than the original, yet I’m certain that the alterations in that regard were made so that the transition between the phases of the story wouldn’t feel rushed. Albeit in a much more uplifting way, it nevertheless managed to transmit the characters’ essence and emotions.

What caught my attention the most in this movie was the soundtrack, though. There was a lot of care in its production, and it was clearly made to be gentle and almost imperceptible, with glitch-like repetitions here and there, as if it means to put the viewers in the shoes of the deaf heroine. It certainly did its job well.

3. Full Metal Panic? Fumoffu!

First anime from KyoAni I’ve ever watched, aside from the Inuyasha movies. Easily one of their funniest series, if not the actual funniest. It has a very special place in my heart. I dropped Amagi Brilliant Park on the first episode, but I’d cry internally every time I saw Bonta-kun in it. The nostalgia is strong, kids.

It’s got excellent animation for the year it was made, and I dare say it’s more decently animated than many current animes. The pacing is dynamic and the jokes vary from over-the-top to smart and witty in a smooth way. I also give this one kudos for not relying nearly as much on fanservice as more recent titles.

For the people who didn’t watch the first Full Metal Panic, I suggest doing so before trying this one out. Anyone who enjoys the two should also watch the second season, Full Metal Panic: The Second Raid, which comes right after Fumoffu and was also animated by KyoAni.

4. Clannad

This one I deem as the best out of KyoAni’s most notorious classics. I also recommend the other titles related to this one, such as Clannad: Another Story.

Much like Hyouka, it’s a masterpiece in every aspect. It has a very non-cliché and unconveninent plot that deals with delicate themes in a sensible way and tears your heart apart at the same time. Frankly exemplary to the drama genre and exceptional as a visual novel adaptation.

5. Free!

The franchise became lackluster after the first director left, but the first two seasons were fun enough in their own right. Unlike most novel-to-anime adaptations, Free! started with original content through creating a future for the main story, which was turned into the not-so-distant past in the anime. This is unusual enough, but it worked out well as the anime maintained itself as loyal as possible to the first book and never went off the rails with the plot. The main characters’ personalities did suffer many alterations, yet it’s obvious that they meant to make the two more charismatic and likeable. As far as fan responses went, it worked.

I find very interesting that the creators were aware the story took itself too seriously at times, and they made this clear by compensating the heavy melancholy with heavy comedy. They also compensated the overdramatic atmosphere of the first season by picking up the pace and getting a little more serious in the second season. Everything was intentional and designed to be a hit amongst women, which I think had served the purpose until the first movie came out.

To be honest, I’m not fond of the exaggerated fanservice, but it gets easy to ignore it after a while if you only pay attention to the storyline. I don’t consider myself a fan of Free!, and I actually took very long to start liking it. I only did get into it at the last scene of episode 8, back when the first season was still airing. It was only by this time that I could see the true value of the series, so I recommend anyone who tries it out to go at least that far with it. I know it might be a lot of work, but in my honest opinion, it’s worth the trouble.

I deem the High Speed! novel awe-inspiring because of its nostalgic tone and the awfully realistic depiction of childhood crises. The most serious situations of it are a little out of reality, but the rest is absurdly relatable in levels that I myself don’t know how to put into words. Yet I also appreciate Free! for its strong tone of encouragement. It feels like the creators are trying to cheer up the viewers.

6. Kyoukai no Kanata

It starts becoming a mess from episode 4 onward, yet the beginning was quite promising. This one relies heavily on fanservice, often makes use of nonsensical tropes for the sake of comedy and sometimes goes overboard with the jokes. However, it doesn’t fail to deliver emotional value and the action is pretty neat. Anyone who hasn’t read the novel will definitely be able to enjoy it as a standalone.

I don’t think I need to mention it, but the animation is stellar. I in particular love the blurry movement effects of when the characters draw their weapons and the geometrical spectrums in the colorful power barriers. I also recommend the OVA, as well as the second movie I’ll be Here, although the latter is 100% original content. It was actually cute and fun to watch. The first movie is merely one huge recap.

7. Hibike! Euphonium

Truly dazzling take on slice-of-life. It’s healing and heartrending at the same time. The way that characters are portrayed allows the viewers to feel their passion and dedication without it occasionally feeling unrealistic. Everyone has their own problems, but none of them are taken out of proportion. Miscommunication happens, just not in a frustrating shoujo manga way.

The soundtrack and scenery are breathtaking, yet the forte of the animation in this one was the huge amount of detail put into the eyes and hair. Everyone’s hairdos are remarkably glossy without ever looking weird, and I especially like how their eyes all glinter in different colors.

The author published another volume of the novel after the anime, saying it had inspired her to write more, and it’s no wonder. I also recommend season two and the OVA. The first two movies are just recaps and the third was to me a disappointment, so I leave those to people’s own discretion.

8. Tamako Market

Rather odd but nice story. It blends iyashikei elements with a peculiar plot and actually manages to do that in a cute way. All of the characters are likeable and the visuals do a good job in transmitting what they have to transmit in a very relaxing manner.

This show caught me off-guard by how unproblematic it was. It has trans, gay and dark-skinned characters, but none of them is ever used for fanservice or jokes and their respective circumstances are portrayed as 100% normal, which is sadly still rare in anime even nowadays. The romance is pretty not-dramatic and filled to the brim with fluff, and I very much like that the main guy treats his female love rival as a serious threat.

I recommend the specials and the movie as well. Especially the movie, which is basically the same as direct sugar injestion and gave me diabetes.

9. Munto

Also has a special place in my heart. Cheesy but good, actually. I’d be lying if I said there aren’t some surprises in it, though, but I’ll refrain from giving too much info on the story itself.

It was firstly an OVA, but then got adapted into three movies. The animation was done finely enough, but there’s a drastic change in style from the first to the second half, though I myself didn’t really mind it. The characters are all well-stablished and the plot is consistent. There’s a present quality of feminist shades in it and the relationships are very endearing.

10. Nichijou

Not really one of my favorites but certainly one that I recommend for people who are in need of a laugh. It’s got some pretty creative and iconic humor. Its imaginative retakes on routinely affairs manage to transform the most trivial real-life situations into Oscar-worthy wit. It also gets nonsensical every so often, but this fits within the show’s own narrative.

It has a very unique animation that sometimes mixes different styles of art, which only makes every scene a hundred times funnier for being so soft and adorable. It varies from hyperrealistic to surrealistic at the speed of light and sometimes even becomes abstract as hell. It’s full of notes on Japanese culture, not only about daily life but also about media, which adds up to the fun.

#kyoani #kyoto animation #hyouka #free!#koe no katachi #full metal panic #nichijou #hibike euphonium #tamako market #clannad #kyoukai no kanata #munto #i could totally do more of these!

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dakotacrisis · 6 years ago

Text

For Better or Worse

I FIXED IT! I had to help my poor children through this cringe-fest. No akuma and these two have an actual effing conversation about their feelings!

MAJOR SPOILERS if you haven’t seen Puppeteer 2 yet.

---

This day was turning into a nightmare. What was Alya thinking? Marinette couldn’t confess right now. So many things weren’t right! Even with Tikki’s encouraging words Marinette still found a black hole of doubt swirling in her chest. She left the bathroom repeating that she could do this if only to help her convince herself that this wasn’t insane.

She looked up and saw Adrien across the room. “Huh?” Marinette got closer, “They finished the statue already? I thought it was gonna take longer. That’s the whole reason we all got to come here in the first place.”

It was an incredible likeness. She stood to admire it for a moment before an idea popped into her head. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she could practice her confession on the Adrien statue before confronting the real thing.

“Okay. A little practice never hurt anyone. Not like anyone’s around to see me put my foot in my mouth.” Marinette looked around to make sure no one was watching. “Hello Adrien, it’s me, uh, Marinette. No--he knows who you are already!” Marinette chastized herself.

“Focus, Marinette!” she took a deep breath and turned back to the statue. “Uh hey, Adrien, sorry for running off so suddenly. I saw the finished figure back on the main floor. You look good! I mean it looks good! Not to say you don’t look good but--”

Marinette dropped her head into her hands. “Why is this so hard?”

She stared back at the statue and sighed. “Figures, I can’t even tell a wax figure how I feel. Even if he rejects me I want him to know though. It’s not just a little crush but real admiration. I--I--”

She squared her shoulders and looked at the statue. They even got the exact right shade of green for his eyes. “Adrien, I...I like you. Not just as a friend. I’ve had a crush on you since you gave me your umbrella that rainy day after school. Getting to know you over the time we’ve spent together has only solidified what I feel. You’re sweet and kind and brave. You see the best in everyone and have the patience of a saint. Especially with me. That’s why this is so hard, trying to tell you how I feel without spewing word vomit. I get nervous because while the fantasy in my head is nice, it can come crumbling down with one word from you. Now more than ever I feel like I need that fantasy. I’m under so much pressure with things I can’t even tell anyone about.”

She placed a hand on Wax-Adrien’s cheek. The wax was still warm it seems. “I like you, Adrien. I hope that you can like me the same way.”

She leaned closer as if to kiss him but stopped. “Stupid.” she muttered and shuffled past him towards the elevator.

“Wait!” A hand grabbed her wrist. She turned back and saw that the Adrien statue was holding her. Wait. Not a statue.

IT! WAS! NOT! A! STATUE!

“Adrien?” Marinette’s brain started to fry. He was playing a prank! Of course they didn’t finish the statue that fast! He was just trying to play a harmless prank and she--oh no!

“Marinette, I--”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She wretched her arm away from him, “That wasn’t funny, Adrien! Not funny at all!”

She ran back toward the elevator. “Goodness, I’m such an idiot!” She slammed the button for any other floor. The doors started to shut but a hand shot through and pried them back open.

“Marinette, wait, please,” Adrien begged as he jumped into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him blocking Marinette’s exit. “I’m sorry. It was meant to just be a prank. I thought it may cheer you up.”

Marinette squeezed herself into the farthest corner of the elevator. “Why would I need cheering up?” she muttered.

“Because uh,” Adrien fiddled with his ring, “I thought you were mad at me. What Nino said and then you taking off like that I thought that maybe I had done something wrong. That you hated me for some reason. The prank was supposed to lighten the mood I guess.”

“I don’t hate you.” Marinette looked past him at the elevator key pad. In her rush she had hit one of the topmost floors. This elevator wasn’t exactly speedy either. She was stuck with this conversation whether she liked it or not.

“I gathered as much,” Adrien stood in the corner opposite of her. “Did you really mean all that? What you said when you thought I was a statue?”

Now was the time to deny. Deny everything and let this whole mortifying experience die in a hole where it belongs.

But Marinette didn’t want to deny it. It was the truth. Every single bit of it. “I can’t lie to you, Adrien. I...I did mean it. I meant every word.”

There was a long silence.

“Say something,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “Please.”

“Sorry, I was letting it sink in.” He finally said. “I guess I wasn’t expecting a confession today.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything. I knew it would ruin everything.” Marinette slumped to the ground. “I feel so stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Adrien sat down next to her, “To be honest I was rather shocked. I thought you liked Luka.”

“Luka is great.” Marinette shrugged, “But he isn’t you.”

She dared to meet his eyes once more. He was looking at her with a mixture of awe and pity. “And I’m not Kagami.”

“Kagami?” Adrien’s eyebrows raised, “What does Kagami have to do with you confessing to me?”

“Adrien, please, I know you like her. I helped you go on a date with her for goodness sake.” that dark curling snake of jealousy constricted around her heart.

“Right…” he stared back at the ground, “If you’ve liked me for as long as you’ve said then why did you help me? Why would you offer to help set me up with someone else?”

She drew her knees up to her chest, “Because seeing you happy means more to me than my crush. If I can’t be the one to make you happy then I’d rather see you with someone who could. It doesn’t matter what I feel in that instance. It’s not my heart.”

“Marinette,” Adrien hesitated to put on a hand on her shoulder, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t try and--”

“I mean it!” he turned to her fully so he was kneeling in front of her, both of his hands clasped on her shoulders, “You said how I was kind and brave but you are ten times that. You are without a doubt one of the kindest, bravest, most talented, passionate, and selfless people I have ever met. You are so confident and driven that I can’t help but look at you in wonder. The only person I can think of coming anywhere close to how incredible you are is Ladybug herself. But you don’t need a suit or powers to be amazing. You’re our everyday Ladybug...my everyday Ladybug.”

Marinette was at a loss for words. Would it be too much to cry right now?

The doors pinged open and Alya and Nino were standing there waiting with Manon between them.

“Oh hey,” Alya surveyed the scene, “We were helping Theo look for Adrien but you seem to be in good hands.”

“Alya!” Marinette made a break for the door.

“See you back down in the studio!” Alya was quicker and hit the button for the studio floor. She gave Marinette a wink before the doors shut again. Adrien and Marinette alone again for another long trip back down.

“I am going to kill her.” Marinette banged her head against the door.

“Is that what they were talking about before?” Adrien asked, “The whole thing about leaving us alone together was to…”

“Give me a chance to confess. Yes.” Marinette turned back around, “Not that she told me that earlier. Which is why I panicked and bolted earlier.”

“I still don’t fully understand.”

“Alya and Nino thought they were helping because I’ve been trying for months to tell you how I feel--”

“Not that.” Adrien interrupted her, “I wonder how someone as spectacular as you could see so much in someone as lame as me.”

“You are not lame, Adrien.” Marinette smiled as she took her place sitting back across from him. “You are probably the least lame person I know.”

“You only say that because you like me.”

“No, I don’t. Also, this self-deprecating behaviour of yours has to stop. You are a wonderful individual. You’re a master fencer, you play piano beautifully, you’re fluent in Chinese, and you’re a talented voice actor as well as a model.”

“Only because my father has me practice all those things until I’m perfect at them.”

“What about video games? You’re second only to me, after all. You’re also insanely smart. I think that you and Max are the only ones who got straight A’s on their report cards last term. That is all you, Adrien.”

He finally smiled at her again. “Not to say you don’t have a dorky side too. You’re still socially awkward and make dumb jokes from time to time but it’s cute.”

“You’re not perfect either. You can get a bit scatter brained when caught off guard and you seem to have an intimate relationship with the floor.” he smirked in a way that made her heart race.

“Oh, it’s like that is it?” She laughed, “You know in the anime world my clumsiness would be seen as adorable and endearing.”

“You watch anime?” Adrien’s head perked up, “I didn’t know that about you.”

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in comfortable conversation. It went from them talking about what anime shows they liked to other interests. Music, food, video games, favorite puns. By the time they reached the studio floor again they were leaning on one another howling with laughter with bad joke after bad joke.

“Okay. Okay. I got another one.” Adrien said as he and Marinette got off the elevator, “What do you call a fake noodle?”

“What?” Marinette giggled.

“An impasta!” the two broke down into hysterics again.

“It’s so dumb!”

“If it’s so dumb then why is it so funny?”

“I got one. What kind of tea is the hardest to swallow?”

“Reali-tea?” Adrien guessed.

“Boo! You stole my joke!” she pounded on his chest.

“Get better jokes then,” he grabbed her hands to stop their assault. “I could send you a link to a site I know. The best kind of bad jokes you’ll ever find.”

“Adrien, there you are.” Theo walked up to them, “Where did you go?”

“Oh sorry,” Adrien smiled in apology, “I, uh, got stuck in the elevator.”

“Well, you’re back now. Come then, I’d like to get your figure done today.”

They walked back into the studio. Nino, Alya, and Manon had yet to make it back. Adrien placed his other hand inside the mold. “Now don’t go running off this time. I need to go grab more wax.”

With that Marinette and Adrien were alone once again.

“Hey, Marinette?” Adrien said.

“Yeah?” she plopped herself into a chair next to him.

“We kinda got off-track earlier in the elevator. I just started gushing about you and then you said all those sweet things to me and then we started with the jokes and well…” he took a deep breath, “I think we still need to address the elephant in the room.”

“Right,” Marinette was hoping that they may have just forgotten about her confession with all the other stuff that had happened, “You have an answer for me?”

“I feel like I need to explain first.”

Oh that was a great way to start this! He was gonna break her heart, wasn’t he? Of course he doesn’t like you like that! He’s crushing on Kagami! Stupid! Stupid!

“Stop that.” Adrien’s voice broke her from her thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re panicking. I can see it in your eyes.” he motioned for her to come closer. He took her hand with his free one, “There’s nothing for you to be scared about.”

“Don’t give me false hope like that.”

“I mean it.” he held her hand tighter, “You’re amazing, Marinette. What all I said before I meant it. I just never thought of you that way.”

“Adrien…”

“That’s not what I meant!” he pulled her closer so she couldn’t run away again, “I mean with Luka and my own warring feelings I just never explored what I felt for you more deeply. You were my friend and that’s all I thought there was to it.”

“Were?” Her heart started to beat faster.

“Yeah,” Adrien looked deep into her eyes, “You...you’re great. You mean a lot to me and I--I--I think I--I don’t know. It’s all happening so fast that I can’t think straight. All I do know is that I like you. I like you as a friend but also not. There’s something there. Something has always been there like a detail in a painting you never noticed before that changes how you see the rest of it.”

“What are you saying?” She didn’t dare so much as breathe at that moment.

“I feel something for you. I may not have it all figured out now but I’d like to.” the bell dinged and he released his hand from the mold. He held both her hands in his. “Can we talk about this? Really talk about it? Say somewhere more private and over a plate of cookies?”

“I’d like that.” she touched her forehead to his. “I’d like that a lot.”

---

(Read the rest on AO3)

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #puppeteer 2 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #writing

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 5 years ago

Text

김용희, Kim Yonghee

anonymous asked:

hi!! do you do cix requests? if you do, can you do some yonghee fluff :( where he’s Shy Boy and the other members totally know the reader has a crush on yonghee but he has no clue tq

Group: CIX (Complete in X)

Member: Yonghee

You rushed backstage, various voices exchanging commands in your ear.

“Is anyone bringing mic five to stage right?” one of the voice asked. “Time-crunch is six minutes, then we’re live.”

You tapped your ear-piece twice with deadly efficiency, balancing the plethora of things in your arms. Mics, wires, props—you had it all. “I’m taking care of it, Jae-hee,” you answered the frantic, middle-aged man with too much on his shoulders. “I’m also bringing the black roses for the VAV Poison Special Stage.”

You had a knack for being calm in these high-tension situations, and you prided yourself in that. Still, despite that special skill of yours, nothing seemed to be going right tonight.

There had been broadcasting issues, audio cut-outs, faulty lighting—the works. Just when you thought you’d started getting things under control, one of the stages was pushed up a few minutes, so you had to rush to get everything prepared.

You’d lost count of how many times your feet had gotten stepped on by other busy staff members and stage-hands. You heaved an internal sigh, mentally preparing yourself for the wave of articles that would be rolling in sooner or later about the company’s ‘negligence’ and ‘lack of consideration for the artists’.

It wasn’t that at all.

Sometimes things just didn’t go right, and you felt that pressure just as much as anyone else. After having this job for a few years—a stage-hand and audio director at KBS—you’d made plenty of friends in the industry.

And even if you hadn’t, you still had massive respect for all those artists daring enough to brave the stage. You didn’t think you had it in yourself, and you always felt a sense of astonishment seeing those that looked so confident on stage.

They looked like they were in their element.

But then again, wandering back and forth between side-stages, back-stages, changing, waiting and control rooms, you also saw what went on off the stage.

You saw the tears they shed from one tiny little mistakes, you saw the comfort they would seek from the people around them, you overheard the promises they made to themselves and the people they cared about.

You saw the stress, the break-downs, the pressure, the excitement and happiness, the most intense and fiery passion, the joy—you saw the greatest behind-the-scenes in the world, because you saw the behind-the-scenes of the people, not the job.

The lifestyle of an artist—one that everyone thought was glamorous and beautiful—was no different from anyone else’s life.

It had its ups and downs. Its good, bad and ugly.

“Four minutes,” Jae-hee said through your earpiece. You could hear an occasional clat-clat, so you knew he was chewing his thumb-nail again. You’d nagged him about that a couple of times because you knew his wife hated it.

You shouldered past one of your co-workers, giving them a quick smile of acknowledgment. “I’m almost there,” you said. “Don’t worry about it.” You quickened your pace, trying your best to make it down the seemingly endless hallway in due time.

One of the black roses tucked under your arm decided to take a nose-dive to the floor.

You clicked your tongue, slowing to a stop and kneeling down to scoop it up. You considered for a quick moment just carrying it in your mouth, but then you realized other people would be touching it later on, so hygiene overrode convenience.

Sniff, sniff

You froze, mid-reach. You knew that sound quite well; that tell-tale hitched breath. Your eyes shifted to the side, peering down the side-corridor, littered with vending machines and crappy lighting.

“You almost there?” Jae-hee’s voice interrupted your scanning.

You double-tapped your earpiece, a habit you had when its sounds tickled your ears. “I’m almost there,” you said. It technically wasn’t a lie, but you may be a little delayed.

You checked your watched, clicking your tongue once again. “May God give me the gift of punctuality,” you muttered to yourself, giving a quick look up to the ceiling, as if trying to make eye contact with the Big Man himself.

You looked back down the corridor.

Sure enough, leaning against the wall—slightly masked by a Sprite vending machine—was a young man, all puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It hurt your chest to see such a sight.

Crying alone was such a sad thing.

You studied the man briefly; his stature, the way he held himself, the forward bend of his shoulders. All-in-all, he was either naturally shy or very, very sad.

Maybe both.

You let out a knowing hum seeing the mole under his eye. It was unmistakably Kim Yonghee.

You’d been familiar with CIX since their debut four months ago. You’d be in charge of the stage and camera directing for their first stage at KBS, and it’d given you the opportunity to meet with all the members to work out details.

You’d even befriended the youngest, Hyunsuk.

Yonghee hadn’t made the strongest impression, if you were being completely honest. He stood stiffly and quietly, he was polite, he didn’t say much. He was awkward in more than a few ways, but you didn’t hold that against him.

You were awkward in front of strangers, too.

Seeing him like this, though? Tears streaming down his cheeks and any ghost of a smile disappeared from his face? It made you grip the front of your shirt, right over your heart.

You gently set down the black roses and tried to block out the sounds of Jae-hee’s nail-biting. With a deep breath, you put a smile on your face, gentle and ingenuous.

You walked up to him with quiet steps, standing a reasonable distance away. He didn’t seem to notice you. You reached into your pocket, pulling out a bill. “What’s your favorite soda?” you asked.

Yonghee jumped from the sudden question, letting out a quick yelp. His hands got busy with wiping his eyes and fixing his hair, trying to look presentable. It was as if he was trying to pretend that he wasn’t just sobbing in the dark.

“Pardon?” he stuttered out.

You chuckled a little. “Soda,” you repeated. “Do you like it?”

He stared at you, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I don’t really understand...” his words trailed off.

You nodded. “Water, then,” you said. You strode over to one of the vending machines, clicking a random number—it didn’t matter which one; they were all Dasani water bottles.

You handed it to him. “Here,” you said, still smiling. “Stay hydrated.”

He took it from you with the most endearing hesitation. “Why?” he asked with a quiet voice. He frowned, not meeting your eyes. “Do you pity me?”

You shook your head. “Of course not,” you said. He met your eyes, as if searching for an answer within them. Your smile grew wider. “I like your mole,” you said simply, pointing to the corner of your own eye for example.

You shrugged. “That’s all.”

He looked dumbfounded. “You bought me water... Because you like my mole?”

“Yeah,” you said. You heard Jae-hee’s nail-biting intensify, so you knew it was time to go. “Hey, I’ve gotta run,” you said, glancing at your watch, “but make sure you drink that.” You gave him a knowing look. “You’ve gotta replace that water somehow.”

He looked embarrassed. “You saw?” he asked sheepishly.

“I heard, mostly,” you said. “It’s dark down here.” You chuckled. “A little creepy, honestly. Why do all buildings have a hallway like this, I wonder?” Without another word, you walked back into the light, scooping up the prop roses and the mic.

Before you were too far down the hall, you called back to him, “By the way, I was listening in on the stage!” you called. He gave you a look, reminiscent of a curious pup, his ear perking up and eyebrows raising an inch or two. “Your voice-crack was nothing,” you said, giving him a thumbs up. “And the crowd loved you!”

And that was how you had officially met Kim Yonghee, a very sweet, shy young man that you had no idea you’d fall head over heels for, especially not at that time when you thought you were just cheering up a stranger.

Every time you saw him, it was because you were hanging out with Hyunsuk. You hit it off quickly, already having a secret handshake by your fourth hangout.

By the fourth meeting with Yonghee, you were both still politely bowing to each other and sharing small, timid smiles. You were always the one to spark a conversation, though every once in a while, he would make the effort to compliment your outfit. He stayed away from compliments about your physique; for what reason, you were unaware.

Hyunsuk always called you before every trip to the KBS building, just to check if you were there that day. He was never not eager to see you and tell you about all of their crazy schedules and fun fan events.

Yonghee had never even asked for your number outright, even though the other guys had. He tried asking Hyunsuk for it, but of course, the youngest was the boisterous and chatty type, so that ‘secret conversation’ reached your ears in no time.

You were part of Hyunsuk’s life, Hyunsuk was part of your life, and Yonghee was part of Hyunsuk’s life. Therefore, you were part of each other’s lives.

CIX was part of both of their lives, so in no time, the six of you were involved with each other, melding into each others’ lives.

Yet he still didn’t seem to be able to get through his cute, thick skull that you had the most massive of crushes on him, even if everyone else knew at a glance.

Still, you gave yourself the freedom to imagine different scenarios between the two of you, smile because of him, and slowly learn more about him, because you respected yourself enough to not be ashamed of your feelings.

A crush was defined as having a brief but intense infatuation for someone, and you were okay with that.

In your eyes, feelings didn’t have to be complicated. If it bloomed into something more, you were okay with that, but if it didn’t? You were fine with cooing over his smile in secret. ...And—perhaps—taking a few glances at his butt whenever he was turned away from you.

You weren’t trying to hide it from him, and it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t catch on. Though, you had to admit, you were getting tired of the other guys trying to drop ‘subtle’ hints toward you affections.

In case you couldn’t guess, they weren’t very subtle at all.

Byounggon was famous for his over-the-top winks whenever he would say something suggestive about you like, “Doesn’t she look nice today, Yonghee?” Cue the wink! He was like an embarrassing parent in that way.

Seunghun always had the perfect balance of throwing off your balance. To put it in other terms: he was well-versed in the arts of pushing you two into each other’s personal bubbles. You weren’t too fond of that, because it always hurt your pride a little to feel Yonghee inch away when you’d been pushed to lean on his shoulder.

Jinyoung was pretty innocent in his level of nosiness. He stuck to giving shy, blushed smiles like he was watching a romantic scene between two lovers, when really all you two did was say ‘hi’ to each other. He was the one you couldn’t get mad at, just because he was too cute while doing this.

Hyunsuk was by far the most problematic, just for the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything. He cared about you though, so he tried his best to hold his tongue. You kept telling him that you didn’t care if Yonghee found out or not because a crush is just that: a crush. Nothing to be ashamed about.

Despite how many times you’d told him that, he still insisted, “Don’t worry! I’ve got your back! I won’t blab to him,” he’d promise. You knew that eventually that wouldn’t be the case, but you still appreciated his efforts. Especially since it was hilarious to watch him struggle to make good on his promises.

He constantly let things slip, like his iconic: “She probably watches Yonghee fancams while she’s home alone”, while munching down on a piece of fried chicken.

Yonghee had looked up at him, confused eyebrows and surprised eyes. “Why would she do that?” he had asked, his gaze gingerly shifting to you.

You shrugged. “Why not?” you posed the question, pouring some duck sauce over some fried rice. “You’re talented, and it’s cool to watch how you work on-stage.”

His cheeks got warmed as he shifted awkwardly. “Why, though?” He asked softly, yet there was a level of genuine curiosity behind it, like he wondered how anyone could be interested in him.

Hyunsuk had rolled his eyes. “Duh,” he huffed exasperatedly, tossing down his chopsticks. “She likes y—!”

Byounggon and Seunghun dived for the youngest at the same time, one of them successfully covering his mouth and the other one tackling him to the ground. Though, in the mess of limbs, you couldn’t really tell who was who.

“This one’s being dumb again,” Seunghun laughed (unconvincingly, in your opinion). “Don’t listen to him, ‘kay?”

Yonghee shrugged meekly. “I don’t usually,” he said, making Hyunsuk let out a muffled ‘hey!’

All you could do was watch over the situation with a smile playing on your lips and laughter blooming in your chest. “You’re all dumb, okay?” you said. “I think we can all agree on that.”

“What about you?” Jinyoung asked, smiling a little.

You thought for a moment. “I’m just a little smarter.”

That whole scenario ended in a short-lived food fight between the six of you. Not only that, but one of your fondest memories, despite the sticky rice that refused to remove itself from your hair no matter how aggressively you finger-brushed it.

The guys didn’t have it much better, though; their shirts smudged with all kinds of sauces and gloop. They looked a lot like contemporary art pieces, if you were being honest.

You didn’t care, though. It was still a fun time that you would always remember, not only because it made you hack up a lung in laughter, but also because they all looked so happy and free.

Especially Yonghee.

It was the first time you had seen him look so unburdened and happy, his smile reaching his eyes and his hands too busy scooping up noodles to chuck as ammunition for him to bother with getting embarrassed.

It was also probably the first time he had truly made your heart beat up into your throat, choking back your breath.

It was a few weeks after that day that you found yourself sitting in a restaurant with the five surprisingly loud boys that you’d gotten close to in celebration of their first win with Numb.

“It’s a good song, you guys,” you said, raising a glass. “You deserve it.”

Everyone raised their glasses (most of them filled with iced water and tea), clinking them against your. “Heck yeah, we do!” Hyunsuk hollered, tossing back his drink with a wide grin on his face.

You’d never known someone that could get drunk on water, but you supposed if there was someone out there, it’d be Hyunsuk.

Byounggon looked over at Yonghee. “This kinda feels like a date, doesn’t it?” he said. Cue the wink, once again. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Yonghee quirked a brow, looking up from his plate. “Between six people...?” he said. “No, not really. This doesn’t feel like a date at all.”

You nodded to yourself, acknowledging the fact that this was just a hangout between friends. Now, the biggest hurdle: convincing yourself that you were fine with that.

Seunghun nudged Yonghee with his shoulder, a smirk on his lips. “Are you sure?” he asked. His voice lowered to a poor whisper. “I’m not gonna pretend like a haven’t seen you checking her out every once in a while.”

Yonghee choked on his soup, spitting it all over the table. “What?” he got out. He jumped a bit, hitting his knee on the table. The pain didn’t seem to register. “What are you talking about?” he coughed out, a hot blush on his cheeks.

Your ears perked up. You didn’t take it seriously at first, but Yonghee’s ears only got that red when he was being too honest or he was lying. You’d be lying yourself if you said that you didn’t hope it was because of they lying.

Yonghee looked at you, something swimming in his eyes—seemingly guilt. “I swear I didn’t,” he said, his ears getting redder. “He’s just kidding.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but someone else beat you to it.

“Oh my God!” Jinyoung groaned. “I’m stepping in!” He pointed to the two of you in turn. “You guys both like each other, okay?” he said, obviously completely done with the situation if it was enough to annoy him into speaking up about it. “The thing is, you’re both too humble to think yourselves ‘worthy of each other’—whatever that means—so you’re refusing to acknowledge your feelings for one another, even though they’re totally friggin’ obvious!”

He took a deep breath, recovering from his nagging free-style rap. “So just go on a date or kiss or something already!” he finished, panting.

You blinked at him, watching as his cheeks started dusting over with heat as he realized what he’d just shouted in the middle of a restaurant. You definitely hadn’t expected Jinyoung to be the one to spill the proverbial beans, but you pleasantly surprised at his sudden outburst.

The realization of his actions dawned on him. “Sorry,” he stuttered out, bowing to anyone in the restaurant that might’ve been staring at him, including you.

You shook your head, shaking your head. “I don’t care, dude,” you said. You held out a celebratory fist. “That was friggin’ awesome.”

He shyly bumped it with his own. “Thanks...” he said, sitting back down with a shy, downcast expression. With a slight nod of the head, he gestured to Yonghee. “Pay attention to him,” he mouthed.

Your eyes snapped to Yonghee a little faster than you’d wanted. His eyes and mouth were hanging wide open, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. It almost made you a little uncomfortable how he was just staring out into open space.

Hyunsuk tapped his shoulder hesitantly. “Are you... okay?” the youngest asked.

That seemed to snap him out of his stupor. “You have a crush on me?” he asked suddenly, shaking his head and pinching his arm, as if trying to see if this was a dream.

A smile crept its way onto your lips, uncontrollable in nature.

You two had a lot to talk about.

He’s so cute... Can someone gift CIX with more recognition and Yonghee with more self-confidence? If no one else’ll do it, I shall take it upon myself.

Thank you so much for reading and requesting! I enjoyed writing this so much. ^-^ I hope everyone’s holidays were pleasant, and I hope you’re staying warm! Spend the rest of your 2019 happily and with the people that make you feel your best, ‘cause there’s not much of the year left. I’m gonna stop here, because otherwise, this is gonna become a TED Talk, and none of y’all need that from me. 😂 Thanks again, Anon and anyone else reading!

#for anon #request #reaction #requested #he's so precious #cix #cix yonghee #complete in x #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop #super cute #this is really cute #he's cute too #like super cute

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elenatria · 6 years ago

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That moment in the 1x02 Chernobyl episode when Bryukhanov attacks Legasov because he can't tell how the reactor can explode, then mocks him, and Legasov is troubled, so Boris steps up and asks Bryukhanov about the graphite on the roof, and he's like "How dare you? Only I can yell at Valery. Am I clear?" And my heart bursted.

HHAHAHAHHA omg it never occurred to me to see it that way?? Brilliant. A want a ficlet on that scene.

You know what, it’s about time people got to know why this pairing is so hot and tragic and inspiring and and… And I mean I’m not crazy for shipping them, am I?? I mean ok ok “real people with tragic destinies” etc etc but but b-but the writer and the actors are doing SUCH a great job giving us the enemies-to-friends (or lovers) trope so effortlessly in a matter of, like, two episodes (btw I didn’t need two episodes, just the first time they met was enough for me to ship them hahah am I nuts or am I nuts).

Alright, SPOILERS.

So at the end of the first episode Boris Shcherbina, the head of the Bureau for Fuel and Energy (aka aggressive, unapologetic apparatchik and bureaucrat), is calling Valery Legasov, the first deputy director of the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy (aka awkward nerdy idealist scientist), to bark some orders at him and essentially tell him “We don’t want your opinion, nerd, you’re here to answer questions, nothing more, kbye.” So at their very first contact Boris is rude, entitled and arrogant to Valery, even hanging up on him.

In the second episode Valery reads Boris’ report and freaks out. When he joins General Secretary Gorbachev’s committee, Boris tries to downplay the disaster, his arms sprawled out all over the armchair as if nothing happened. and looks at Valery in utter disbelief when the scientist tries to convince everyone how serious things are. Obviously Boris would rather be home with his wife or something. Btw in the show Valery doesn’t have a wife, he only has a cat, cat=loneliness, geddit?

When Gorbachev orders them both to visit the power plant Boris cannot believe his ears. He’s stuck with this annoying nerd, a scientist for crying out loud, a know-it-all, the kind he obviously hates because, as an apparatchik, he probably climbed the social ladder through his connections in the party and not through studying. So he obviously loathes anyone who knows more than him. He’s an alpha and wants to remain one.

Look at his face and body language when they’re left alone, he’s totally blaming the Nerd for becoming a burden. His burden.

Here it is, the “unlikely partners” trope.

And now things start to get interesting.

As they walk towards the helicopter Boris is totally ignoring Valery. They’re not exchanging a single glance.

In the helicopter Boris asks Valery how a nuclear reactor works. Valery finds it difficult to explain and Boris quickly shows how inferior he feels to anyone who has studied more than him, so he puts on his aggressive and arrogant facade.

He acts SO entitled that he even threatens Valery that he’ll have him killed if he doesn’t explain how the reactor works.

At this point Boris inspires nothing but fear and disgust.

HOWEVER when Valery fidgets his pockets trying to find something to write on Boris is quick to give him both a pen and a piece of paper. Even if he has his poker face on, his gesture is clear. He’s helping Valery for the first time and not just because he wants to learn about reactors.

When Boris quickly catches the metaphor of the neutron being like a “bullet” Valery seems startled. Apparently Boris is a good student, who would have thought!

But as soon as the explaining is over Boris shuts Valery out once more saying he doesn’t need him anymore. Entitled and arrogant af.

Now it’s Valery’s turn to seethe internally because he’s stuck with this total asshole.

Aaaaand then we get to the part when I totally flinched in surprise and I was like… “Okayyyyy do they want us to ship them now or what?…”

Because Valery, in a state of panic, finds the courage (or might I say, has the nerve) to call Boris by his first name (back then Soviet people would call each other by both names as a sign of respect). Valery probably mimicked Gorbachev using “Boris” in the previous scene but Boris simply. Won’t. Have it.

He instantly snaps at the unexpected intimacy and I’m over here fangirling like crazy because who else would snap at terms of endearment and intimacy but a man who’s not used to it - and is probably craving for it. But not from this carrot-headed Nerd. Definitely not from him, he loathes the guy, okay??

Boris exercises his power once more threatening to have the pilot shot if he doesn’t fly over the reactor and for the first time Valery manages to “outrank” him by explaining to the pilot why he’d rather be shot than fly over the reactor. Valery convinces the pilot to disobey Boris - power play at its best. Boris is clearly defeated, maybe he’s never been defeated before.

And this is the first time Boris touches Valery (hopefully not the last).

As the helicopter turns to avoid the reactor Valery trips and almost falls on Boris’ lap. Notice how Boris doesn’t push him away but he rather steadies him and helps him sit. For a man who loathes his partner and is not used to intimacy he’s rather… well-behaved.

Of course the look on his face when the scene ends says it all: “You’ll pay for this, nerd.”

We’re 25 minutes into the episode and we finally see a glint of doubt in Boris’ eyes when Chief Engineer Fomin and the plant’s director Bryukhanov mouth off to Valery, disrespecting him and questioning his expertise and patriotism. For some reason something clicks inside Boris. Maybe he too had dealt with too many people doubting him and treating him like shit in the past. Maybe he feels Valery, for all his obnoxiousness, doesn’t deserve that kind of behaviour. Maybe the proud Head of the Bureau for Fuel and Energy will lose face if his partner is disgraced. Another nanosecond of doubt and he decides to step up. He uses Valery’s observations to talk about the core exploding.

At first I thought “Oh goooood I can’t believe this asshole is ripping off Valery’s observations to act all clever in front of his inferiors. What an asshole.”

But it turns out that he’s siding with Valery and starts to trust his judgement and expertise. Maybe because, for all his lack of formal education, he’s too clever to not know suck ups, cowards and liars when he sees them.

Next he challenges the two men to prove Valery wrong. Perhaps he does want to prove Valery wrong and ridicule him. Or perhaps he’s rooting for him already.

When Valery pushes him to evacuate Pripyat, Boris snaps again. He’s not here to follow the Nerd’s orders.

But the very next minute Boris walks away with the promise to get Valery as much boron and sand as he needs to put out the fire, like a king eager to impress his betrothed. “I’m going to get YOU.”

As soon as Boris leaves, General Pikalov is quick to offer Valery some help.

Because they both know they have long days and long nights ahead of them.

I will come back to the subject of the hotel in my next post. There’s another fanfiction trope right there, two unlikely partners forced to stay in the same hotel (or hotel room if you want your imagination to run wild). YESSSS.

Cut to the hotel room. An exhausted Valery massages his own neck (oh baby I’m sure you would like someone else to massage it for you.)

Boris enters his room (*their* room..?) without knocking - apparently someone doesn’t feel the need to lock his door.

Boris is happy to announce they’ve been successful at dropping sand and boron into the reactor but Valery doesn’t share his cheerfulness.

AND THIS IS WHEN BORIS STARTS CARING ABOUT VALERY’S OPINION AND FEELINGS. The “what?” cliche when someone is not reacting while his friend/lover is begging for a response. Because. Boris. Needs. Valery’s. Approval. That’s why.

Valery insists that the city should be evacuated and Boris reassures him that they’re staying there “so it must be safe.”

But the way he utters those words in a hoarse whisper, shaking his head confidently, is almost like he’s saying “I’m glad we are staying here. Together.”

When Valery gets carried away and slaps Boris in the face with the horrible truth, Boris loses the ground beneath him.

But he doesn’t look just shocked. He looks hurt. Hurt that Valery didn’t sweeten the pill for him.

Valery instantly regrets his bluntness and takes a step towards Boris as if to comfort a helpless child. Or a very good friend. But he can’t really hug him, shush him and tell him everything is going to be okay, can he? So he takes a step back.

“I’m sorry”…? What?? You just met the guy and you hate him and he hates you! Get a grip!!!

Boris feels so horrible that it takes him ages to pick up the phone.

When they join Gorbachev’s committee again to brief him on the crisis Boris seems totally lost, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Valery who stares at him, concerned.

When Boris finally comes to terms with his own mortality he steps up once more, taking control of the situation. Valery fails to convince the workers to go to the basement and open the valves and that moment… I just knew it was Boris’ turn for a glorious inspirational speech. And boy, does he deliver. Best, most laconic, most convincing inspirational speech I’ve ever seen. He appeals to the workers’ patriotism and self-sacrifice and he succeeds. So he’s not educated and he’s not as clever as a scientist but his true talent shines here, that of leadership. Inspiring people to do the right thing, like a true general. They’re at war and Boris knows he’s the man for the job.

And now it’s Valery’s turn to look at him in utter awe.

“That’s him. That’s my guy.”

And I haven’t even talked about episode 3 yet.

Oh god, ep 3, I mean…

#spoilers #chernobyl #jared harris #stellan skarsgard #valery legasov #boris shcherbina #valoris

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mrsreinhart · 5 years ago

Text

Lili Reinhart Found It Harder To Real Cry Than Fake Vomit In Hustlers

There’s an old Hollywood saying that goes: “It’s not a movie/show unless someone’s uncontrollably vomiting.” Okay, I made it up, but you have to admit it’s catchy, and happens to be factually correct. Some of the most informed and nuanced performances of our time involve yakking. There’s Reese Witherspoon puking in Big Little Lies, Lindsay Lohan vomiting first words, and then, well, actual vomit, all over Aaron Samuels in Mean Girls, and now there’s Lili Reinhart in Hustlers, who throws up no less than five times throughout the course of the film.

Reinhart plays Annabelle, the most innocent of the aforementioned hustlers. She’s been kicked out of her family home by her parents, who disapprove of how she makes a living. When we first meet her, she’s crying in the locker room of the club — she’s just gotten her period and isn’t sure how to hide it from clients given her skimpy attire. Jennifer Lopez’s Ramona shows her how to cut the tampon string, and cheers her up with a little of that her already-iconic brand of motherly love. Chin up, she says, taking yet another budding dancer and business woman under her wing and into her near-brilliant scheme to hustle men out of thousands of dollars. Annabelle quickly becomes a part of Ramona’s family, settling into her new life of luxury, but never loses her ability to throw up whenever she feels anxious.

But the movie is, of course, about so much more than bile, or even boozy, drugged-up finance bros being swindled out of thousands of dollars: Hustlers about friendship, hardship, and motherhood.

Still, we’re here to talk puke.

“I was a little intimidated at first because I had no idea what that situation was going to be like because I had never done that before,” Reinhart tells Refinery29 of her character’s nauseating tick, "but it was really just comedic.”

Ahead, Reinhart breaks down exactly how her gag (pun intended) actually worked, what show-biz vomit tastes like, and how her late Riverdale co-star, Luke Perry, affected her performance.

Was Annabelle modeled off of any real women like Ramona and Destiny’s character?

“I actually hadn't heard of the story before, so when I read the script, and then read the article, I was like, This is a perfect movie right here. Reading about Annabelle, I didn’t really envision anyone and I think it's better that way because I don't really like to create characters or play characters based off of someone else. I really just wanted to kind of hone in on her being so innocent — or, not innocent...that's ironic [Laughs] — but her just her being so young and naive. She's the baby of the group, and she is looking to Ramona and Destiny [Constance Wu's character] for guidance on what to do. It was fun to play a young girl who doesn't necessarily know what path she's on.”

Why did the article feel like it would make a perfect movie?

“Scriptwise, I was so impressed and so taken with Lorene’s writing. I love a writer-director because it means that they're incredibly invested and usually have a very specific vision. I [first] met with Lorene over FaceTime, and it was just very clear that she had done her research. I was really taken with her talent for writing this story, really going off of an article, which isn't super long or detailed. Making an entire film [that] really has the heart of that article in it is really impressive.”

I want to know more about your character’s tick — the vomiting. What were the logistics behind that?

“I was a little intimidated at first because I had no idea what that situation was going to be like because I had never done that before, but it was really just a comedic moment. It was purely out of Annabel being nervous and scared. When she's overwhelmed, she throws up. It's gross, but to me it's kind of cute and just sort of emphasizes her childlikeness through physical manifestation.

[The vomit] was crushed up animal crackers mixed with Sprite. I don’t do well with those things. I don't like food mixed together. It really grosses me out, so I was worried that I was actually going to get sick from having to do that because the idea of soggy crackers in a liquid actually makes me want to vomit. But it wasn't bad — it wasn't like some weird gelatinous mixture. It tasted like Sprite-animal crackers.”

Is it in your mouth while you’re shooting a scene?

“We would do the scene and then go back, and when they wanted to get the actual vomiting, I would take a gulp, open my mouth, and hold it there. Then we would do the line to two before I throw up, and then I would throw up.”

Having seen it, it’s not as gross as it sounds. I do agree — it’s weirdly endearing.

“Right? It’s not like projectile vomit. It’s just a little quirk that she has that makes her innocent and cute.”

Do you watch Bachelor in Paradise? There’s a big vomiting scene in it that is extremely Annabelle.

“I do not, but that makes sense. [Laughs]”

Did it make filming any scenes more difficult?

“It didn’t have that big of an impact. I wouldn’t really say there was necessarily a hardest scene to shoot because the environment on set was always really pleasant and very enjoyable. There were scenes where I had to get emotional, which can always be hard in a situation where there's a million people around and especially when you're just like in a new environment with new people trying to get emotional. The locker room scene where J. Lo sees me crying was probably the most difficult. I was at a time in my life where I was a little distracted from other things that were going [on]. My cast mate Luke Perry had passed away not too long ago, and I find it ironic sometimes when you're going through an emotional part of your life it's hard to get emotional on camera. It can get hard to conjure emotions on the spot like that.

Did you guys film in a real strip club?

“It was a real strip club in New York. I think it was an active strip club that they had taken over during filming. So it wasn’t a set. There was a set for the champagne room where we bring all the guys and we’re handing them drink and drinks.”

Have you been to a strip club before? Did you ever go together as a cast?

“We didn’t go together, but I have been before. I think it had been a while since the last time I went, [but] I went to a strip in LA when I was done shooting. I had so much more appreciation for strippers — how hard it is and physically demanding it is to do what they do.”

#lili reinhart #hustlers

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1dffexchange · 6 years ago

Photo

A Star is Torn

To: Christa @wild3flow3r

From: Rory @verorax

Warnings: Language, sexual content, mentions of substance abuse and a gunshot.

Summary: Harry Styles is known as the charming, perfect superstar who has not done a single wrong thing in his life. Abigail Quinn is known as the washed away superstar who has been doing tequila shots since she was eleven.

They fell in love, fast and hard. They thought they could make each other 'themselves' again but when you've spent an entire lifetime living a shallow, faux life, you don't really know what you were before the world made you who you are.

A story about tequila, empty homes, being a coward, and a journey down the ladder of success to meet everyone once lost

Or an ou inspired by Lady Gaga’s soul shattering song ‘Shallow’

Author's Note: hi christa! i'm so glad that i wrote this prompt and even more that i wrote this for you!! cheers to our friendship with this 25K story!

November 2022

At twenty eight, Harry Styles found himself sitting in the lobby of a hotel behind the big green chair that was particularly reserved for him in the name of privacy. A cup of black coffee (that he liked with brown sugar and the slightest tint of creamer) was cooling down in front of him, as of yet, lying completely untouched. And a copy of War and Peace remained etched to his eyes despite the fact that he wasn't really paying much of an attention to it.

Most people would sell their souls to live a day in Harry's luxurious Beverly Hills Mansion or the penthouse he had brought on the Sunset Strip last year, but to him they were all mere investments he'd done following the words of his financial advisor. Rather the penthouse he had brought was a gift for his sister, Gemma, on her wedding last summer. Not that it was needed; she barely ever came to LA, mostly loving the land of English too much. Thence Harry still had an extra key of the house just in case he decides to crash.

But that never really happened. Harry Styles wasn't happy being stagnant. His life has been a non stop routine of travelling, often living the same day twice (in different time zones) and then more almost losing an entire day by a few hours.

Travelling meant Harry had lived in Four Seasons more than he had lived in any place that was could be called home.

There was something about sitting in the lobby the way he was right now. He'd done it plenty of times. It allowed him to hear the crying of the toddler in his father's arms behind him or the couple whispering sweet nothings and giggling every once in a while, without worrying about all of the world's attention diverted to him as soon he entered a room (only making him more guilty). It gave him a sense of normality around him, even if he knew he'd never be a part of that normality.

California was the golden state. The first time Harry came to LA, he was still very seventeen, very much of a popboy and very much in One Direction. While rest of the boys found the place cool enough to hang out once in a while, Harry took the liking for it too hard. The fascination with the city of stars lodged itself in his brain, his heart, his soul, in that order. As if it was not enough, it slowly seeped down to the crinkles of his eyes, his dimpled grin and the crumpled papers on his stainless floor forming the subject of his multiple famous tunes. Eventually he realised why almost every celebrity finds LA more endearing than any other land. Sometimes he felt like he came to LA to take a break from reality as if he was on a world detox.

Maybe it was the the warmth of the sun or the lack of gloomy, rain sounds that dominated back in England – giving him an effusively jubilated feeling that maybe life is not as dark as people say when it came to Hollywood. But time made him learn – to get warm you must burn. That is why eleven years later he was still burning yet somehow thought the warmth was worth it.

From : Jeffrey

H!!!! Party tonight remember? At Catch, 7. I'll pick you up. And please get your Chevy from car wash first thing tomorrow morning, Glenne says

From : Harry

Who's party? Say hi to Glenne.

From : Jeffrey

YOUR party, idiot. 125 million remember, Richie Rich?

From : Harry

This is Glenne, I can tell from the tone.

From : Jeffrey

BE THERE BUT.

And yeaaaahhh Glenney here!

Harry chuckled as he kept his phone on his lap and took the coffee that was too cold for his liking now. His net worth had recently reached a whopping 125 million USD – a news that was given to him over the weekend, the first thing as he concluded his third solo tour. His mum was very proud of him, so was his sister, they both being in nearly tears. Both him and his mum had decided to give a good percent of it away on charity, the subject of which was yet to be decided.

But for now his ‘friends’ and tour mates needed a party, a well acclaimed event that his publicist wanted a lot of people to know about.

Harry would be lying if he said that it didn't matter. He had always been an ambitious lad, a perfectionist as Niall and often Liam would term it as. And watching a memento of his success, a new notch on his perfect, splashy, non tainted image as ‘superstar who only keeps on going higher’, it made him proud of his over-working nature. But what made him proud even more of the way his tour ended.

It was the most beautiful show he had ever played despite the fact that he said the same thing after every single show. The final show was in LA as it's always been, the crowd celebrating another Harry Styles Victory and it being attended by most of the people nearest and dearest to him. Of course when he looked back at it, in all those eleven years, there were so many more people he'd left behind than take along. But everytime that feeling started crawling up to him, he tried to push it away. These thoughts only made him guilty of his success. And as much as he tries to convince himself that this is how life is supposed to be, it still stung and each absence left a gaping hole in his existence, never mended by time.

As he finished his coffee, placing the empty cup carefully on the table he knew he had to go back to his room in order to get ready; seven was not long away. And then as he turned around glancing at the once crying toddler who was now sleeping peacefully in his father's arms Harry thought, maybe it was how it's always supposed to be – first it's shallow then deeper. He just didn't know where and when his deeper was going to come.

■■■

LA’s dining scene was a notorious fickle. While Harry usually preferred his Cafe Habana in Malibu or the very paps free zone of Cavatina, when it came to anything in public view it always came down to Catch. Despite Harry and Jeffrey's unlikeliness for the dine-here-drink-here restaurant, Glenne happens to drag them there on several occasions, making sure Harry wears his hair well on those days. She usually says, “Harry it's a pap pic day. I need you in a good shirt and do not forget to brush the untamable disheveled wig of yours.”

Glenne was Jeffrey's wife. Sometimes looking at them, Harry felt ridiculously jealous. He was a man of twenty eight, a hopeless romantic at heart and very unfortunate when it came to his love life. All of his bandmates have had some or the other real relationship in their lives, so did his closest friends after the band and even his very shy often geeky sister. All of this only made him pity on his situation, often making him wonder where he goes wrong when it comes to love.

After a whirlwind of congratulatory hugs and being bubbly, jumping from one group to another, and raising a toast in the name of his entire team, Harry felt his job was done for the night. He had done everything mandatory and the rest left was just chilling. That's when he excused himself from Jeffrey's grip, wanting nothing more than some cool air that could parch down his body temperature, some space to breathe until he finds himself oxygenated enough to go back to his mates.

He usually loves a good party, but what he hates is the aftermath. Once the party is over, everyone leaves. Harry, though would spend hours at the party location, not leaving till the echoes of people from the night slowly dims into oblivion and he can actually hear his heart beating – that's how silent everything becomes. That is when he leaves, trying to find another place so loud that he can't hear his own thoughts.

The rooftop was not a good idea. It had a gorgeous view and that usually meant his model friends and guests were out there taking the best pictures of the night to flaunt brazenly on their Instagram pages. And if Harry happened to be in room, as always, he'll have to pose with them – in groups, solo – all of it sounding nothing but another hour of smiles and cameras to him.

So instead he took the spot beside the door of the rooftop, leaning his back on the wall and closing his eyes in silence. The November breeze was cold on his face, as if opening the pores on his skin that had been closed due to excessive make-up. It was a feel good, the music being lighter than ever and Harry felt that he was deported to a silent room yet with lot of human presence, the body heat around him reminding him that — the exact way he wanted it all to be.

“Tequila?” Harry’s face perked up at someone talking to him. For a moment he gasped at the voice but soon came to a rest when he saw a girl with blonde hair, average height and cocked up eyebrow holding out a tequila glass to him.

“Thank you.” He sighed, taking the drink from her hand, something that made her smile. She was wearing a denim ankle length jeans and an overused washed away Rolling Stones tee. For a moment Harry felt she didn't have an idea of what the party was about. Most females here were kind of dressed up (not the gown dressed up, the fancy dinner dressed up). But what a woman wore was not much of his worry, at all actually.

“You're welcome.” She said crossing her hands over her chest and standing beside him.

Harry was still nursing the tequila when a thought occurred to him. He kind of chuckled speaking, “Is it by any means spiked? I mean I didn't ask for this and you're just coming here and offering me a drink.”

That earned him a laugh. “Ah don't worry, I by no means intend of taking you to bed and stripping you down once you're inebriated.” The blonde shrugged, pushing her hair away. She sounded innocent but the glint of smirk on her face said otherwise. “Just thought the host doesn't look good sans a glass of drink.”

“Very considerate of you… but I'm not buying that. You don't even have a drink yourself.” He suggested cheekily when she looked at him with a bewildered expression.

“Come on, can't a girl be nice?” Harry's expression was still skeptical but he nodded nonetheless. When after a few moments he opened his mouth to speak again, the blonde rolled her eyes giving away the act and taking a hold of his arm. “Okay, listen I know it usually happens later at night but I'll keep it hidden and very quick.”

“Are you by any means asking me for a quickie? I usually chat first, maybe share a drink-”

“A bill. A green note.” She interjected him.

“So you're asking me for money?” Harry still sounded as lost and confused as he did.

This only made the blonde sigh, she stretched on her toes moving closer to Harry so she could whisper into his ear. “A rolled green note? I know you might have it hidden around.”

Realisation hit him, only making his eyes go wide before he awkwardly chuckled. “I..I don't. Sorry, I don't do cocaine.”

“That's a lie, pal.” She scoffed. “It's just me you can let with the nice guy act slip. Nothing wrong in mild spliff.”

It's just me. Harry never understood that line. Maybe because nobody ever said anything like that to him. And nobody did because they were intimidated by him, his name, his fame and things that come along. But now that this girl had said it, he wanted to know what that line actually means.

“You really don't?” She asked moving a hand around his face only getting a guilty shrug. “How do you not? Cocaine is like water for celebrities.”

“I've heard that.” He nodded being reminded the above statement too often. “But I roll away with a weed max, that too very rare.”

“Weed at max? Not even acid.” He shook his head kind of embarrassed at this point the way she was looking at him. In that moment he thought she might rebuke him and leave but when she pouted, still keeping her stand he had started feeling more comfortable. “Damn you. What did I even sacrifice my tequila for?”

He laughed taking his first sip of the tequila. “I am so sorry that you had sacrifice your tequila. But I can promise you that later at night a lot of people can give you a rolled green note.”

“I'm not staying that late.” She announced once she had checked time from her watch. After what looked like a little thought, the blonde added, “And actually thank you that you don't have it. I have a class early morning tomorrow and can't be jammed before that.”

Harry was overwhelmed by this information. It was rare finding people who go to school at such parties. Nonetheless he nodded. “Tequila? If that's not jamming.” He offered her a drink that he had just taken from the tray one of the waiters was carrying. The blonde nodded with a small smile, taking his offer.

“Abigail Quinn.” She brought a hand forward and he gently took it in courtesy.

“Harry Styles.”

Harry said that because it seemed the only right thing to say. Abigail Quinn was no random name. The world knew her as childhood star from a famous Disney sitcom called ‘Bunker Hill’, who's been doing vodka shots since she was eleven. He remembered that he had to meet her somewhere when he was nineteen, very vaguely though. Niall had a huge crush on her, he had stolen Harry's cologne because it apparently ‘attracted woman’, to impress her. She never came to meet them. They were told she got stuck in work hammering Niall's timid heart but the news of her being arrested on the account of drink and drive the next day was not something that could be hidden away from them.

“Where do you study?” Harry questioned in a cautious tone, with everything about Abigail's past it was a rather caution worthy subject.

“UCLA psychology.” She answered without a click as if the answer was lying in the tip of her tongue. Though her further addition came after a good pause. “Well I'm kind of focussing on substance abuse issues.”

Harry tried everything in him to keep his demeanour as normal as it can be, too scared he'd do something that will offend her away. He could only imagine how most people react to everything she does nowadays after the wildest history from her past – all splashed on papers. “So you went back to school?” Harry asked, sounding even to himself somewhat uncomfortable.

“Yeah. My mom said that the only way I'd be allowed to come back in LA is if I go to school.” Abigail shrugged. “It's fine, you can ask if it's weird or not.”

“Sorry,” Harry's voice was like a drawl, genuinely guilty. “No offense but it's already weird being in the public eye. Then school.. I'd never be able to do it.”

“I hope you never have to. At least some of us can stay a stellar superstar.” The last part came as a mutter and Harry could see that Abigail regretting saying it. But it was the first time ever since this conversation began that he had looked at her face properly, brazenly, not peeking a glance but rather studying every feature; not even blinking properly. “What's actually weird is being 27 and an undergrad. I look like a middle aged woman with six children. Even if I talk to guys they act as if I am a madam. ‘Lady Quinn, can you tell me the schedule of tomorrow?’”

Her mocking voice was extremely humorous and Harry didn't mind laughing along. “I think you're being too hard on yourself. You look pretty fit and young.”

“You would say that, you're my age. Ask the kid who nearly drools on my shoulder whenever he's too sleepy in class.” She rolled her eyes before they both had started laughing. What seemed like a laughter for eternity but rather lasted a few minutes, she looked back at him nudging his side. “What about you? How do you feel about your 125 million grands?”

Harry sighed at the question. “It's a great feeling of accomplishment and I'm glad I'll be able to help people. A good share of it is going on charity.”

“Charity? I would've brought a wine cellar with it. Not that I didn't have one.” She told, this time being quite more confident.

“That's a very nice investment. At the end of my next tour, I'll be sure to contact you to get a wine cell.” The sarcasm in his voice earned him a slap on his chest.

There onwards, for the first time ever since his last show ended, Harry felt like himself. It was not much except for a constant bicker, throwing in comments about the weird metallic furniture or mocking the group of social media addicts on the rooftop. But it made something alive in him, something that could expand his jaw in wide smile. They were drinking tequila for the longest time known to man, it might even have been a little more than an hour as they sat on the couch right beside the rooftop door, laughing incessantly.

Due to the flame of the fire that was a part of the decor, Abigail's face was lit up highlighting the golden of her hair or the pale skin and pink chaste lips. It made Harry blush slightly when his eyes lingered on her lips a little too long.

“Abigail why don't you go home already? You have a class.” Harry asked.

“Yes but I can't leave yet.” She shrugged sighing in a slurry tone. “All thanks to you this place is very much pap friendly, sneaking inside was already a task now leaving would be much worse. Especially when there's no one else leaving.”

She probably said that all in fun but it made Harry feel ridiculously guilty. Time and again he had been reminded of how he influenced the lives of people around him but he never knew that he even impacted the life of people outside his life.

He offered her a crooked smile, unsure of what to say next. After contemplating in wry silence, he offered. “How about… I drop you? My driver, I mean. There's a backdoor and we will have our privacy.”

Abigail bit her lip opening and closing her mouth several times. “That's very sweet Harry.. but I'll have to pass. It's your party, you don't have to do so muc-”

“I insist, please,” he cut her off, placing a hand over hers.

Abigail lived in a quiet residential area of Century City. It was close to school and allowed her to commute easily, she told him. The entire ride their conversation was very similar to the one in the restaurant just this one delved more into the recent happenings of their lives, superficially. It was blatant that Abigail enjoyed school more than acting, even at an unconventional age, from the way she talked about it. On the other hand Harry seemed more intrigued by the psychology student beside him.

The car pulled to a halt outside a three storied, little building beside a flower shop. He couldn’t help but examine the area outside to see if there were any photographers, who might have been following them. Abigail got out of the car, keeping her head low. It kind of made Harry feel better that she was accustomed to this life just the way he was.

She turned on her toes to a pulled down window, “Thank you so much for this ride.”

He nodded in generous appreciation, beholding for a little while if he should accompany her to the door. So when Harry got out of the car, following her with his hands in his pockets, Abigail looked at him in a strange yet nervous way.

He couldn't blame her though, she must've been used to men thinking it was their right to let into any woman's house if they had offered to drop her. Those terms were often synonymous in Hollywood.

“Uh.. don't worry. I just thought of dropping you to the door.” He reassured, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

She winced dramatically, “Bad luck Abigail! First I couldn't spike your drink, now I couldn't seduce you to inside.” Harry laughed very hard at her statement and from the looks of it, Abigail appreciated it. “Not every guy gives me a ride home and goes back from the door. That's sweet, popstar.”

“Not every girl gives me a her tequila in order to get a rolled green note. That's-” He spoke cheekily before being cut off.

“I'm taking the sweet back.”

■ ■ ■

December 2022

Abigail was mates with Glenne. Harry discovered this when Glenne asked him how she was in his car – something he was sure the driver must've told her. What more sufficed was that Jeffrey wasn't very pleased with the situation, even after being reassured by Harry several times that he came back from the doorstep.

They were taking some time off. They usually did post touring but with this album being just on the verge of beginning, Jeffrey knew that it wouldn't be the same time next year that they'll be touring. As much as Harry loved believing that Jeffrey was his mate, he was first a part of his management team. Hence his concern of Abigail Quinn was not just a concern of a friend but one of a manager. Harry somehow hoped he'd let this topic pass off.

A few weeks in, Harry had to move into his Beverly Hills mansion. He was glad that his first night in the house was raided by Jeff Bhasker, Alex Salibian and some other of his music colleagues, it only made him feel more in the buzz, the way he was used to. He needed coffee and exercise, in that order. His mum often joked that he had technically turned American given how he has traded his family favourite Earl Grey for darker and bitterer caffeine. Sometimes he wished he was a fan of instant coffee, that would have cut him a good slack of work but he was not and that's why when his coffee machine gritted and didn't respond due to lack of usage he knew he had to take some on his way to his Soul Cycling class.

The Soul Cycling class was a twelve minute ride on normal traffic from his place. Taking on his Chevy, he found a spot closest to the door incase a quick escape was necessary before walking into the tiny coffee shop beside the building. The queue this morning was unnecessarily long but Harry was fine as long as people didn't approach him for anything more than a selfie.

“So tequila at night, coffee in morning?”

He recognised that sound quickly. Particularly he recognized the word tequila said in that sound quickly. Tequila had not been the same word since Harry met Abigail.

“Abigail, to what do I owe the honor.” A very warm smile was an instinct as he turned around.

“Who would've known you enjoy a coffee pre-exercise, superstar?”

“Well being absolutely guilty here but these ones are too good to resist.” Harry shrugged. “Better point, I don't get women asking for a rolled note in exchange of their coffees.”

Abigail rolled her eyes at him without any hesitation. “At least I'm not the person who hasn't even taken acid in his thirty years of lifetime.”

“Twenty eight. And I proudly steer clear of them.” Harry bit his lip once, a certain memory coming in his head. He contemplated for moment if they were on the page of him mentioning one of his ex band mates. He hadn't mentioned them to anyone in a long while, as if they were never a part of his life. But then he remembered her words – it's just me and so he went with it. “Once my bandmate, Louis tried a narcotic, only ended up in fits of nosebleeds. A terrible sight, he was only twenty.”

“Poor guy. But he just needed a good tutor. I'm sure he's got used to it by now. Or if not you can always send him to me.” She winked playfully. “I can even tutor you.”

“Tutor for taking narcotics? Thank you so much but I'll have to decline.”

Harry didn't know how joking about drugs had become so normal to him. This is something he's never done. When all of his band mates, Niall included, were trying their firsts in the world of substance, Harry had steered away. He never judged people who did it, he just didn't want everything he had being wasted because of it. Time and again he had promised himself of discipline. He always thought it was only discipline that could make him who he aimed to be – ‘superstar who only keeps on going higher.’ Harry was an ambitious workaholic – another reason as to why he had missed and lost so many things in his life. It wasn't just drugs or it wasn't drugs at all. It was everything and everyone else his farce cry for discipline sent away.

“I never knew you were mates with Glenne.” Harry said putting a hand in his Nike track jacket.

“Glenne Christiaansen?” Abigail earned a nod compelling her to continue. “Yeah we met through a common friend. Crazy girl to say the least.”

“She says the same thing about you.” Harry could tell that Abigail was amused that she was a subject of his conversations with his friends. He was somewhere hoping she wouldn't say it loud, it'll only make him blush. “Says you two haven't talked in a while.”

“I haven't been in LA in a while, otherwise we're pretty good.”

Harry glanced up to place his order as they were next in the queue. He took a simple americano and moved aside for Abigail to take her turn. But when she instead followed him, he was compelled to ask.“What? You won't be taking a coffee?”

“I left my wallet at home.” She wrinkled her nose.

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “Don't be daft; I wouldn’t let you pay anyways.” "Why not?” “Because I am a gentleman,” Harry explained. And just before Abigail could argue on the topic of feminism, something he knew she was about to, he added “You can always pay me back.”

Abigail didn't actually go for a coffee. When Harry told her about his mother's personal favorite chai latte at the shop she was adamant to try it.

“How will I pay you back?” Abigail asked Harry for the tenth time when he told her that she had nothing to worry about.

“You've got a point. Given how you don't even have my number.” He cheekily commented knowing where this was going.

“If you wanted my number, Harry all you had to do was ask.” Harry was smiling sheepishly as a pink patch crawled up his neck. “Just kidding, you can have it of you want.”

He reached out for her phone that she had unlocked and slid in his direction. “Why do you have emojis in front of all your contacts rather their surnames?”

“Because they're emotions.” Abigail shrugged. “And I associate people with emotions.”

“What do I get, then?”

Abigail put a tongue to her cheek before slowly forming a grin. She took her phone from his hand, keeping him to only watch her deviously pull his contact, sneaking a glance at him every once in a while. She passed it back to him, earning a loud laugh from Harry as he saw the a tequila shot emoji in front of his name.

Abigail was an avid conversationalist, Harry learnt very quickly. The entire forty five minutes of stationary cycling was highly dominated by Harry and Abigail’s inappropriate amount of laughter and bizarre looks that the rest of the cycling mates were sending their way.

“You're not coming?” Harry asked Abigail when he was just a few steps away from the door after their class was over.

She coughed awkwardly in response “I have to meet a friend. Catch with you later.”

Her words only received a tiny nod and respectable smile from Harry though the roll of her lips told him how it was a lot more to do with the line of paps waiting on the road in front than her meeting a friend.

■ ■ ■

February 2023

When Harry returned to LA a week after his birthday, he again went to a hotel instead of pulling into his Beverly Hills ‘bachelor pad’ as the media would term it. He personally thought he was too old for the term. Most of evenings he was not working, were spent in Abigail’s studio apartment that was too tiny to hold a place for two yet managed to grasp Harry's heart every time he went there.

He would cook her dinner as she managed to get her assignments done, mostly a soft tune playing in the background to fill the voids of silence. He would laugh whenever she complained about her professor being a sleepy moronic prick or her not finding her school supplements in the mess of her apartment, but let her go on anyways.

Fact was that Harry loved listening to her. It was probably the way she talked, with expressions and pressure that managed to intrigue him, making him realise why a good population of the world swooned over her acting skills on silver screen back in his teenage days.

“Do you think social media addiction can be qualified as an addiction?” Abigail inquired, eying Harry's plate of remaining Bolognese pasta after she had finished her own.

“Well given how you put the term addiction there, I think that's already a giveaway.” He chuckled, taking a sip of water directly from the bottle lying between them before snapping her hand away when she was trying to sneak in a bite. “Oi!”

“What? You're using my kitchen, my packet of pasta, my utensils. I deserve an extra bite, at least.” She argued, side-eying him before placing her hands in front of her chest.

“And you're having this because of my cooking skills, so steer clear.” He said proudly but when Abigail pouted at him he couldn't help but divide his leftover in half to share with her.

Grinning widely, she took her bite before continuing, “No, I meant, is it addiction enough to qualify in the realms of a post-graduation subject?”

“You're thinking of post-graduation?” He was inquisitive when he got up from the single couch in the apartment where they both had been sitting, having their dinner.

“Not me, just something I heard in the campus. To be frank it was weird in my opinion.” She followed him to the kitchen as he grabbed an apron from the doorstand, “Hey you can leave the dishes, I can do them tomorrow.”

“Yes just like we could've ordered a chinese takeaway but I cooked for us on this Friday night and didn't even get much of a thank you.” He dotted a boyish grin, one that earned him a little slap.

“Correction, superstar. You cooked for my gifted shirt, because it seriously has more pasta than my stomach.” She chuckled looking up and down the simple, white button up that she had gifted Harry for his birthday few weeks back.

She had gotten it on a sale at The Grove while Harry was in England for his birthday. It wasn't much, not any Gucci or Louis Vuitton that he was used to yet it was his favourite ever since he had received it. That is why Harry had gasped multiple times, even freaking out a little when, while cooking, his shirt was contaminated with a good amount of pasta sauce. Abigail told him it was nothing that a little wash won't run away even promising him that they both can wash it together this Sunday.

“I told you I am sorry.” He shook his head guilty but both of them knew that it was only Abigail pulling his leg.

She asked him to stay over, arguing that it was too late and too cold for Harry to go back to his place. Harry tried putting in his courtesy but truth be told he was elated to spend some more time with her. They took turns for the washroom, him going first before changing into a trouser and loose t-shirt for decency.

When Abigail went to the washroom, she left Harry alone amidst his thoughts and some time to vaguely pass. He spent a little while scroll down his newsfeed but eventually gave up, feeling bored. That's when he stood up, examining the walls of Abigail's house. There were numerous pictures, some of her and her family who lived in Pennsylvania, some from her teenage days. She looked very pretty even back then, he thought. He was still in the midst of going through them when he saw a small jammed drawer. It wasn't hidden on purpose but looked like it was discarded, full of old stuff...

“Those are a couple of awards I got for my sitcom back in day.” Abigail broke his trail of thoughts, her wet hair open only sitting on her shoulder. Opening the drawer and picking a trophy from what seemed a bunch of them, she said, “Outstanding Children's Award for Best Actress. Can you imagine I was children's favourite artist at sixteen? I hated children back at that time.”

She showed him the old, stained trophy laughing at it before going for another and another. But Harry wasn't paying much of an attention to the list of awards in her name. He was paying attention to the way she mocked them, as if she was embarrassed about them.

“Have you thought of going back?” He catechised, out of the blue. “Into acting I meant.”

“Never.” Abigail replied closing away the rack and going towards her bed to set pillows and sheets. “There's a reason why you leave some things. Sometimes the reasons are so strong that they control your life.”

Harry nodded knowingly. He knew that feeling, the only difference in their case being that he still didn't know the reason why he had left so many things. Sighing deeply, he picked up a pillow and a cover from her side, walking subconsciously.

“Where are you going?” She asked him with furrowed brows.

“I was thinking of sleeping in the floor.” He replied earnestly.

She laughed at him.“H, we can share a bed. You're cute and all but don't worry, I can control myself.”

■ ■ ■

April 2023

It was five days in April when Abigail finished her winter quarter finals and the first thing she demanded after stepping into Harry's Chevy, was to take her to his home. By instinct Harry turned in the direction of Century City, not long before she pulled him to a halt, rephrasing it as, “Your home, not mine. The Beverly Hills one.”

What would usually make him feel embarrassed, made Harry anxious. She had clearly stated ‘his’ home in the first place. But home was not what he linked with his Beverly Hills pad; actually home has always been an incognito term for him. Yet how he had subliminally taken the word home synonymous to Abigail's tiny apartment bewildered him.

It was a weird feeling creeping down on him. Attachment, he'd tell Glenne or Gemma whenever they brought it up. But then again, he knew better than anyone else that attachment is one thing that ruins you more than love can. At least love is a term of assurance; attachment is love without clarity. Attachment is so near to love yet so far away; attachment almost love. And that almost ruins you.

The entire car ride, Abigail was talking about her exams and her final year nearing by. And Harry was listening, listening and listening. He wanted to listen to her forever, maybe that would help him forget about the devious feeling hovering over his head. And it did, as always.

As Harry gave Abigail the code to the gate of his mansion he suddenly felt more apprehensive than ever.

This house was supposed to be his, but every night that he had to spent here (whenever he wasn't at Abigail's) he felt lost in his own world. He would walk the halls three times at night, unable to sleep, passing through the massive piano in the hall that he didn't play anymore. He would check out the pool, the foyer, the wine cell, even the barbecue lawn that was never used. There were several nights he would simply jump into the pool, sitting alone in the cold water for hours with his equally cold thoughts. There was nothing here except for overrated, comfortable silence.

And now for the first time Abigail was walking into this place, completely unaware of Harry's thoughts on it.

“Voila!” She sang entering the main hall in anticipation, pulling her hands wide in Vanna White style. “Why does this place echo, H?”

“Maybe because of lack furniture. Ain't that what science says?” He said placing the keys of his car on an underused coffee table and following her into the main hall.

“I think it's because of lack of people.” Abigail countered, running her hands over the fine leather of the main sofa. She placed her backpack on the floor beside the table, taking off her shoes and popping down on the sofa.

“Would you like a tour? Or we can first have some wine from the cell.” Harry asked in a humble tone, standing in front of her tired form.

“You have a wine cell?” Abigail gasped loudly at his statement, standing up at the speed of flash. “Do you know how fucking lucky you are?”

“Right, not lucky for having headline tours, back to back albums and awards, being chosen into One Direction. But lucky to have a wine cell. Nice perception.” He mocked her joyously before walking towards the black, all packed wine cellar which could be mistaken for a textured wall. “Which one?”

“I mean it's your cell, you have every right to chose, superstar with a posh Beverly Hills pad.” She spoke, following him into the massive room starred with wine on all four corners. Abigail tried to remain decent but it was evident how much in awe of the cell she was; and Harry was just as much in awe of her.

“Ladies first. My mum taught me manners, remember?” His voice was low and sexy as he spoke into her ear from behind. When she whipped her head halfway to see him in the vicinity he was, he raised his eyebrows, a hand slipping into her waist. They stood there for a while, not breaking their eye contact in between sporadic breaths and growing pulse. Harry took his time to appreciate every corner of her face – from her eyelashes to the highlight of her nose, back up to her glowing forehead marked by a single blonde hair strand and finally down to her lips. The extremely pink, highly kissable lips he often spent time thinking about.

Abigail breathed audibly, something that was followed by an awkward cough. Moving towards the directory of the cell, she scanned through the book aimlessly under Harry's deep gaze on her. He could see that her cheeks were burning red and she bit and chewed her lips nervously. “This is a gorgeous collection, H. I really get to choose?”

When she looked back at him humming a yes, she thanked him with a wide smile before moving forward to take out the wine she had chosen. It was a red Bordeaux encased in dark glass, one they decided to share directly from the bottle. Abigail proposed to toast on their way because she was extremely excited to see Harry's ‘home’ and all other wonders he had kept hidden from her.

They walked down halls through the floors, admiring the kitchen, the foyer, the paintings that Harry had collected over the years but never looked back at, the lawn with its multiple exquisites, moving to the pool area and back into the interior. Abigail gushed over the walk-in closet that was probably more spacious than her entire apartment and the sick, new television launched by Google with virtual space technology, one that Harry doesn't even remember how to switch on.

Half a bottle later they were back in the living room and Abigail was still swooning over the entire place when her eyes fell on a black and red box in the corner of the room. She stood up and trudged towards the corner of Harry's living room, primarily focussed on the cute Crosley record player that was resting there comfortably.

“You are such an untrustworthy person, Harry. First you have a wine cell then a record player and you were keeping them all from me.” She accused him, hands running over the victrola.

Harry followed her suite in order to comprehend the reason of his indict. Realising her reference, he pulled his hands up, “In all of my defense I cook us dinner at least four times a week and I never pegged you for a record player fan.”

“Really? What did you peg me for?” She asked him with a frown.

“You always play Apple Music, you know the modern world girl. Not vintage.”

“Well then you surely had a few strong wrong inhibitions on me.” She countered, looking over to the drawer with his vinyl collections in awe, “ My mother used to play her vinyl collection everytime she had to make me do my homework after shooting. They kind of soothed me because it was usually past dinner when I'd get time touch my books.”

“You worked very hard, Abby.” He enunciated softly as if it was a fact.

“I guess.” Abigail laughed, shaking her head. “Is it vintage? The record player.”

“Sure is.” Harry confirmed.

“Play me some?” It was more of a statement than a request but Harry was quick to abide. Abigail move aside, giving him enough space to go through his vinyls. Music was Harry's reign, his love, his way of expression, his art and Abigail trusted him with it.

After a protracted period, he brought out a single CD, putting it in the player and turning on the sound.

“‘Love Me Tender’, very appreciable.” Abigail raised her eyebrows in reverence, recognizing the Elvis Presley song as soon as words entered the track.

Harry turned around slowly after putting the record on, his hands behind his back as he took long, slow steps in her direction. “Well what would be more appreciable is if you dance with me? For Sir Presley.”

She stared at his outstretched palm, before laughing and shoving him aside. “Bucker off Styles Boy.”

But Harry was quick to get a hold of her hand, swinging her back, right into his arms. “Come on, don't tell me you only study over music. The best way to live music is to dance on it.” It was probably the wine that had given him all the confidence in the world because Harry was too calm and confident for their faces being only inches apart. Abigail on the other hand, wasn't. “Do you trust me, Abby?” He asked looking straight into her eyes receiving a very weak but sure nod. “Then dance with me.”

This time Abigail took Harry's offered palm willingly, something that brought a huge smile to his face. He parted away from her guiding them towards the hall where they had some empty space before pulling her towards him. Her hands snaked around his shoulders and his went around her waist, pretty smoothly to say the least. It was feel good, rhythmic and slow with Harry leading their dance.

“Okay, this is not as awful as I thought.” Abigail observed slowly with a smile.

“I guess I can be of some use.” Harry said proudly, thumb tapping on her hip.

“So tell me, are there any stories to this?”

“A lot of them – few girlfriends, loads of shags, it often starts with a romantic dance.” Harry winked at her cheekily, gaining a deep glare from her. “Oi, I was kidding Abby.”

He took her hand to swirl her twice before pulling her back into his arms, it had her giggling loudly. “I meant the vinyls, how you have them listed and arranged by genre.”

The cheery smile on his face was replaced my one that was slightly sad. Nonetheless he replied, “The entire collection was my dad’s. Every time I visited him, growing up we would listen to it. He.. he left it for me with a note after...after his death last year.”

“Oh,” Abigail took a moment to absorb the new information, stopping her feet slowly. “I am so sorry Harry.”

“Can we please keep on doing this?” Harry gestured, referring to their dance, he knew well he needed some sort of distraction if he was going to continue. Abigail nodded in response, now their once seemingly romantic dance turned into simple swaying in rhythm. “It was weird, him leaving even though I didn't grew up around him much. First Robin left us a few years back, then dad. That kind of made me more of a man of the family than I already was.”

Abigail nodded understandingly, watching live the glint of sadness in his eyes that she'd always seen somewhere hidden.

“You know dad hated my job.” Harry added with a dry chuckle. “He told me that it would ruin everything, that every celebrity goes down into a deep pithole someday. I had challenged him that my behaviour will never falter down, I'd be clean.”

Abigail had her eyes furrowed deep in concentration as if it was the most important thing she had ever heard. “And that's what you've been trying to live upto all this while?”

“You know this world, Abby. It's pretty easy to slip, ain't it?” He looked down, biting his lips.“I did everything in me to prove it to him but… but he didn't. I couldn't make him proud while he was here,” Harry mumbled a ‘shit’ when he realised a little tear escaping his eye.

“Oi,” Abigail instinctively reached the tear before him, wiping it away.

“I'm sorry if I'm a bit emotional.” He chortled nervously between patchy breathing, “I've never really shown these vinyls to anyone, never said these things loud and I mean just.. fuck.. I'm a mess.”

“It's okay. It's absolutely okay.” She lifted his chin, making him look up at her. Harry had never appreciated her more than this moment itself, her look enough to calm down his nerves.

He was still swaying slightly, Abigail's head resting on his chest as she spoke more words of brightness to him. He wanted this to go on forever, her telling him how everything would be okay through and through and him listening; listening to her for hours, days, maybe even years.

“H, can I ask you something?” Abigail’s voice was timid and raw from not speaking for a long time. “Why did you show it to me when you’ve never shown this to anyone?”

“Because it's just you.”

She lifted her head slowly from Harry's chest and he watched her hair stuck on the button of his shirt. To be frank he never wanted to let that strand of hair off his shirt, maybe that would mean that she'll stay here in his arms, her warmth wiping away the coldness of the floor. And maybe for the first time this warmth won't burn him.

Harry couldn't formulate anything, it was all conveniently spontaneous when his hand cradled her jaw, tilting her head upwards. A slight shiver went down his back when Abigail responded by fisting his shirt tightly.

He could smell peppermint on her breath and hear the low, sporadic breaths that escaped from her parted lips. His lips grazed over her own, the simple hesitation casting a shadow of doubt in his mind. But when her mouth met his, all feelings of uncertainty in his mind vanished immediately. It wasn’t much, a simple feathery brushing of lips, mouths moving gently over one another and then fell into a rhythm of sorts.

Harry had never anticipated this with Abigail. They've been friends since November when they first met. Most of his endeavours till date were either quick attraction or purposeful dating. But with Abigail it was so different. There was a built up, like a story with layers. Everything here was slow, everything had a meaning and this everything was what he was getting attached to. With Abigail it was first shallow then deeper and Harry was ready to dive in.

A friendship that started with a simple tequila came here to them taking off each other's clothes tonight. And Harry didn't know where any of this would go ahead. But all of the thoughts and consequences could patiently wait for the next day.

■ ■ ■

May 2023

It was one truth that Harry Styles found nothing more endearing than a productive day of songwriting and recording.

And another that Harry Styles was unstoppable, more because he never really wanted to stop than because he geared competition. When he recorded his first album, he had done it in Jamaica and Los Angeles, purposely renting an entire mansion where all of his mates could sit and focus on making his debut album a hit. During his second album, he was more public – through the year he oscillated between LA and London, in between his MET Gala chairmanship, his Gucci campaigns and a fashion line coming out. The third one was marked by casual dates, meaningless relationships and loneliness, the events in his life at that time. But what all of them had common was that they were never about a single person or emotion. Every song had a different story as opposed to the entire album being one story with different chapters. He blamed it on the fact that he had no one to go home to once the recording was over.

This time it was different, very different. Because this time Abigail was a huge part of his album. The tone, the lyrics and the sounds did not have voids anymore. They seemed somewhat full, somewhat content even if it all was just halfway there.

And it did not go unnoticed.

“What was that girl's name, again?” Alex asked resting on the sofa where Harry, Carl, Mitch, and Alex himself were all seated, drinking water after completing a session.

“I think it started with A.” Carl earned a glare from Harry at his words. He knew well that they were just messing around with him.

“Abigail.” Mitch commented before excusing himself to call his fiancé, Sara.

“Abigail. And now I see what all the fuss is about and who you’ve been writing all these songs about,” Alex commented cheekily, before sharing a clap with Carl.

The songs. They were everywhere – from his antique leather journal to scribbled on the corners of waste newspapers. And every night after Abigail went to sleep, Harry would take out his typewriter, trying to phrase out something tangible from his cluttered words on the journal to printed form. It was not much, just diluted words put into grammatically wrong sentences and a mess in summary. Just like what Harry's mind was everytime he thought about the night they first had sex and every after.

It had become a routine. After initial hesitation, Abigail and Harry had eventually given the shadow cast of doubt away and used actions more than words. They would kiss each other every time they were leaving the house (his mansion or her apartment wherever they had spent the night), snog incessantly over tequila and sleep on the same bed often waking up to each other's naked bodies.

But never talk about it.

Nonetheless Harry was happy. Now he was no longer jealous when Mitch would call Sara everytime they finished a session (whenever she wasn't there herself) or when Glenne would surprise Jeffrey over lunch in the studio.

Sure Abigail hasn't done any such thing, but now he had someone to think about. It was strange, really, how Harry transitioned from having no one ‘special’ in his life to having Abigail.

“What about Abigail?” Jeffrey walked inside the record room to a cracking Carl, Alex and Harry. Seeing him, Harry immediately stopped laughing knowing well of his disapproval on this subject.

Carl and Alex took their time pulling Harry's leg in front of Jeffrey – from laughing about Harry smiling like an idiot to his phone sitting on the patio between recording sessions to the excessive crumbled papers in the bin filled with frustrated words. Jeffrey laughed with them as well but on the contrary his laugh sounded very shallow.

So when Alex and Carl excused themselves, leaving only Harry and Jeffrey back in the room, Jeffrey was induced to ask. “So… Abigail. These songs are about her?”

“Jeffrey...” Harry nearly winced, closing his eyes. He felt too old for this conversation.

“No, they're nice, pretty songs. One of your best works, Carl told me.” Jeffrey added with uncomfort dominating his voice.

“Mate, can't you just be happy for me because right now that's exactly what I am.” Harry explained in a very sure tone.

“Harry I know you like that girl but-”

“But what Jeffrey? I like her, ain't that all what matter.” Harry cut him off in a slightly frustrated tone. He had never really felt the need to rebuke Jeffrey, thinking that he understood Harry in the best way.

“She doesn't have a clean past. She's done drugs all life, was highly arrogant at the peak of her career, addiction, rehabs. You've never associated with such people, H.” Jeffrey breathed a moment, “Believe me or not pal, you both are a combination of a catastrophe.”

“Yes but those were things of past. She's a changed person. She goes to school, focuses on course work and exercise, even stays away from media.” Harry defended, clearly unamused on the topic of Abigail's past being brought up.

“Then what is she doing with you?” he finally said, “A person who wants to stay away from media will never be with you.”

■ ■ ■

August 2023

“Harry I'm not coming to Vegas with you.” Abigail announced, trying to take her pen – one which Harry had purposely held high in air – from his grip.

“It's just one weekend and your entire schedule is clear.” He reasoned, pulling the pen higher. “Your last class ends Thursday evening at six. I'm pretty sure you don't have any homework in the first week of school so we can conveniently leave Friday morning at three and coming back your Health Science class is due Monday, two in afternoon. We'll be back and fresh by then.”

Harry had been trying to convince Abigail almost ever since she walked into her apartment to the smell of paninis and heath milkshake. It was only the second day of her term but she was certain holidays had a terrible impact on her circadian rhythm cycle. Especially with Harry being around. It could be easily said that they had somewhat moved in together. Not officially but none of them ever questioned walking into their homes to find the other sprawling on the couch watching television or cooking dinner.

The summer went away quick – something Abigail dreaded a lot. Not only because going back to school sounded hectic but also because Harry had become like a habit to her and school definitely meant she could not spend as much time with him as she did over the summer.

Abigail went home for a week in summer to visit her family. Harry and her had talked of dates so they could mutually come back to LA. But when Abigail came home anticipating that she had to wait another day for Harry to arrive, she was welcomed by Harry himself. Turns out, Harry never really left LA. It was a weird feeling that had crept on him, stopping him. His mum visited him over the weekend but that was it. He was in no mood of leaving the place that smelled lavenders and peppermint due to a certain blonde haired girl he had grown too fond of. And his mum recognised that way better than himself.

As of now Harry was trying to convince Abigail to accompany him to Vegas for the Video Music Awards due coming Sunday.

“Whoa! Is a multi millionaire, VMA performing superstar my personal assistant now?” She bulged her eyes, overwhelmed while going around to her study table to grab a spare pen.

“I've done my homework, thank you my lady.” Harry followed her, adamant on his stand “On a serious note whatever coursework you have, we can do it together in the plane.”

“As tempting as that sounds, Harry I don't think you are literate enough to do my homework.” She turned around, hitting his forehead with a new pen lightly.

“Oh I am.” His voice had an exclamatory tone. “And even if I'm not, I'll do anything. I'll hire you someone to do the coursework or maybe I'll personally meet your professor. I'll do anything. Please come with me, please, please, pretty please.”

When Abigail understood that Harry was not going to give up anytime soon, she sat on her bed defeatedly. “H it's not the coursework. It's…”

“It's the media?” He completed her sentence as the air around them got thicker. “Abby you have an invite yourself. We don't have to go together but I really would love it your were there. It's my first live performance since last year and I've been nominated for four awards. I would love if you’d be there.”

He was now seated beside her, his eyes on her while her was on the floor. “Harry you don't understand this.” She explained, “Every time I'm in front of those cameras I see pictures of me doing those horrid things I did back in time. It makes me feel like I'm still her, the girl who set fire in a rehab to escape the place… what bullshit.”

“Oi, you're not a horrible person.” Harry took her hand in his and she closed her eyes at his touch. “You are the person who would take an injured cat to a vet even if it means you'll miss a test, you are the simple girl who hates color orange and has abnormal amount of love for tequila. Your allergies flare high in March, and out of everyone Pearl is your favourite in Nemo, you-”

“Pearl resembles you, so don't complain.” She frowned though the tiny hint of her smile was enough to make Harry smile himself.

“You are an adorable, amazing human being. Never think otherwise, Abby. It's fine, you don't have to come if you don't want to.” He reassured her before giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

The next hour went with them having food and catching up generally. Harry told her about the funny guardsman he met at his fitting for the award show while Abigail imitated an eighteen year old boy in college asking her out.

After awhile they both split work, with Harry doing the dishes and Abigail setting their bed straight. Harry was in the middle of wiping away the last spoon clean to the stand when a pair of hands slipped under his arms, running over his shirtless torso.

Abigail planted several kisses on his back, slow and soft before he turned around giving her all the attention she deserved. His hand slipped down on her hip and hers encased his shoulders, both of their mouths attached, when he lifted her leg up to his waist, guiding them both back to their bed.

Somewhere in between their lazy and long snog, running hands and aching bodies, Abigail mumbled, “H, I'll come with you.”

Harry pulled apart, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“To Vegas. I'll come with you.”

■■■

The arrangement was crystal clear. Abigail had insisted on staying back at their hotel (that was merely a walk away from the event hall) for the show at least. If it was upto Harry, he would've preferred her as a date or at least as a friend but the fact that she had agreed to come to Vegas solely for him, was enough at the moment. He knew if he asked for anything else, it would just be him pushing his luck.

He was enamoured though, he got an entire weekend to spend in the bounds of a luxury hotel room with first class room service and no phones or impending coursework to disturb them. Except for the few hours of the show and few hours prior for checking the stage and dressing up, Harry had all the time in the world to spend with Abigail.

They arrived early morning on Friday through his private jet. He was lucky that it was awards season and LAS was a busy place, storming with celebrities who all arrived in short spans between each other. There was a special car arranged in the back that would directly take Abigail to the hotel while Harry walked through the main gate, knowing well that he'd be mobbed.

“Steven Nicks? You didn't get a better name?” Abigail laughed when they had first checked into the hotel under a fake name.

Soon after breakfast, the duo explored the hotel for a while, finding different locations to hangout. Abigail was particularly in awe of the spa where she decided to spend a good chunk of her Sunday when Harry would be busy with the stage practice.

Saturday morning was pool time. Harry booked the entire rooftop pool for four hours straight, where he and Abigail could spend hours under water and many more in each other's arms back in the hotel room. Vegas was a sight at night and Harry made sure Abigail got a whiff of it when they took a helicopter ride over the most enlightened city of the States. Abigail might have even shed a few tears at the sight itself.

Despite the show marking Harry's comeback on stage the first time since last November, Sunday was the worst day of the trip according to him. What he had anticipated to last only half day was dragged to the entire. He could barely sit through the countless hours of pre-show interviews and red carpet nonsense coupled with the actual award show itself. The only part where he thoroughly enjoyed was his performance; it made him realise why he had been here, in this world in the first place. It was sterling if Jeffrey and his team were to be believed, Harry Styles showing the world how to truly be a superstar.

Harry was proud of himself, with smiles and dimples prominent but he was equally nervous about what Abigail had to say about his performance. She was watching it live from the television in their hotel room like the rest of the world but her opinion still mattered the most for him.

The after party was a mandatory, though Harry wasn't able to sit through it for long. There were interviews lined up for him soon after he had won three of the four awards he was nominated for and that made him curse deep under his breath. His feet popped up and down restlessly as the interviewer standing in front of the entrance of the after party location asked him one over the other questions.

“So Mr.Styles, are you seeing anyone right now?” The young man inquired turning the direction of the mic towards Harry.

Harry had his jaw slightly clenched as he pulled a fake smile, frustrated enough that he could not be done with this soon and meet Abigail. He was about to dodge the question the way he was trained to when his eyes fell behind the glass door of the entrance. He squinted and blinked, even thought of pinching himself to assure it was real. It indeed was; there stood the blonde girl who had his heart in her hands, behind a bush of pink roses wearing a pink and gold dress that made his breath hitch tight under his chest.

Harry didn't know what possessed him when he said, “I am.” He bit his lip in order to hide the smile growing widely on his face and in the moment of realisation, hugged the interviewer joyously. “Thank you mate, you have no clue what you have done for me.”

Without sparing another glance at him, Harry literally ran inside, taking Abigail in his arms, walking a little way from the glass door and swirling her around. They were lucky for the bunch of roses that their little act of amour was hidden away from the cameras.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, hitting his shoulder.

“I can't believe you are here, you look absolutely stunning babe.” Harry giggled through the widest smile on his face as he put her down on her feet. He could see that she was a bit taken aback by the usage of the term but instead of calling him out on it, she blushed.

Abigail gushed over and over again about his performance, his awards, his awards speech, his suit - actually everything. She had made it to the show with the help of Glenne and Jeffrey, taking a seat somewhere between them, with his team. Harry had his lips between his teeth, the smile too wide, the blush to deep, all the while as she spoke about him and him alone.

He thanked Glenne and Jeffrey the moment he saw them at the party. Jeffrey patted Harry's back with a wink when he hugged him, whispering, “Reach out to me for any boyfriend guidelines.” Harry smiled, nodding to him appreciably. The four of them shared a couple of laughs over drinks. All the while, Harry had his hand on Abigail's lap, rubbing circles in request to return back to their bedroom. Abigail glared at him on occasions, shoving his hand away playfully.

It was a little while later when they both finally got a while to make their escape. Harry's lips were on hers the moment he entered the elevator, and it did not leave until they were on the bed. Her hands had somehow managed to get rid of his blazer and shirt in the time being.

“God, I've been meaning to take that dress off you even since I saw it.” He whispered, searching in all directions for the zipper.

Abigail giggled at his frustrated form and decided to help him by turning aside, “It's a side zip, H.”

And just like that it was gone as well. They were in the hotel bed, under white lights and lavender room freshener with Harry nibbing on the bottom of her lip.

“Need you now, H.” Her voice was soft hiding under the deep moan. Harry didn't needed to be told twice. He closed his eyes, pushing in slowly feeling her inside contract and expand around him. He swallowed every moan that left her throat and intertwined their fingers as their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm they had created for themselves.

Harry fell down once they had reached their climax, rolling over but keeping their fingers intertwined. He watched her closed eyes and sweaty forehead that must've resembled his own, both their chests heaving up and down breathlessly.

That's when it kind of hit him. He needed to say this now or it might become too late. All the faux confidence that he had donned all night disappeared almost immediately as he rested his head on his palm supporting his body by the elbow. “Abigail I want to tell you something.”

She hummed in response, still with closed eyes. It made his heart beat faster.

But with a deep breath, he continued. “Tonight an interviewer asked me if I was seeing someone.” He spoke softly, playing with her her hair. “And I said yes.”

That lead to her opening her eyes, pronto. Her heavy, quick breathing converted into slow, inaudible one as she asked. “Why?”

“I don't know, Abby,” He spoke nervously biting his lips, “I saw you there and I knew I was seeing you, I was seeing you and I wanted to see you forever. You were behind the rose vase and even thinking that you'd seen me perform live, that you had seen me take up that award – it made me feel like there's a star everyone wants to look at but that star was looking only at me. I..I know I'm sounding stupid and mad and you might want to slap me right now-”

Harry's speech was cut off by a loud laugh from Abigail. He watched her laugh with equal amounts of bewilderment and anxiety. “I didn't know I had such a nervous wreck of a boyfriend.”

“I'm not usually this nervous but you do something - wait, did you just call me your boyfriend?”

“I can again, if you'd like it.” She shrugged with a notorious smile.

“I would love it.”

■ ■ ■

December 2023

Harry had locked himself in one of the washrooms of the hotel where his album listening party was supposed to be held. Nerves were high on him as he walked back and forth in the washroom, rambling worst case scenarios that even under the light of Satan, could not occur.

“Harry, slow down.” Glenne said, knocking on the door of the loo and inhaling deeply when all she heard was more rambling.

Anyone could decipher from the bags under his eyes and the shortness of his breath as he talked, that he hadn't slept well, maybe even not at all. The last few weeks were dreaded with the finalising of contracts, one over the other, going through the labels and concluding the order of the songs in the album that Harry had changed at least four times.

He was extremely scared for this album, especially because it was dominated by two of the most important things in his life - his dad (and family) and Abigail. Both the emotions were completely in contrast to each other and arranging the songs in order that it would not only hit best with him but his fans was a task that had Harry up for days.

If the exhaustion from work was not enough, Abigail had her finals going on just in the while. That indicatively meant that she could not mumble soothing words into his ears to calm him down, not give him a comforting massage after a long day of work and he could not tell her about all of his rising anxiety. Harry had no intention of distracting her from the exams, he even told her it would be fine if she couldn't make it to the album listening party. Her third exam was due next day, after all.

Truth be told, he was extremely down that she wasn't here with him tonight. Maybe if she was, at least for some time, some of his thoughts would be calmed down.

“Harry I'm seriously going to call Abigail if you don't open the door now.” Glenne warned Harry from outside.

“She won't pick up the call. Her phone is on silent whenever she studies, so don't bother.” He replied, soon before sitting on the bench, his hands going in his hair in absolute, torturous frustration.

A million thoughts ran through his head back and forth about what everyone would think about his album. Harry always knew that no one else can ever know the actual meaning, story or feelings behind any song no matter how many music journalists sit and over analyse his lyrics and tunes. But it petrified him how well he did or did not put his own thoughts into words, if he even did them justice.

“I heard somebody is being a baby tonight,” Harry's trail of thoughts were broken by a distinct female voice which was not Glenne’s. There was a split second before her speaking and Harry's face breaking into a grin. He rushed towards the door opening it, pulling Abigail inside and closing it - all within a span of two seconds. Taken aback, she squeaked, “Harry, what are you doing?”

“They will force me to go out. I'm not going out Abby.” He answered without a breath, quickly wrapping his hands around her.

“Harry-”

Pulling away, he added nervously, “It's bullshit, the entire album.”

“Harry-”

“I think this hotel is a curse, absolute curse.”

“Harry-”.

Harry interjected her again, “You know that feeling when you're super excited about a new idea and you give your entire self to complete it. You even like it when it's complete, but then after a few months you see it and you know that you could've done so much better… that the songs are dumb and everyone will laugh at you.”

Abigail looked at him with a stern look before pulling a fake smile. “You know what, I think I should be leaving.”

He held her hand stopping her before she could filling turn. “What? Why?”

“I was your muse for the album,” she pointed at herself raising her brows, “but since you think the entire album is dumb, that probably means our feelings for each other's dumb or our relationship is dumb and what else did you say… yeah a laughing stock. So what am I even-”

“It's not dumb.” He interjected her with a serious face, holding her arms to still her. “Babe, how can our feelings for each other be dumb. It's the purest thing I've ever felt, it's the purest thing that has ever existed.”

“Then how can the songs that tell our story, be dumb Harry?” Abigail reasoned, her voice now low and calm. She lifted Harry's chin to make him look up at herself. “Hey, please look at me. I know that I'll always be proud of whatever you do but this.. this is seriously the closest music to my heart, Harry. This is us, it's the one album that may or may not be the biggest hit of the year but it's the biggest hit of my life. It's about us.”

Harry looked at her in awe, eyes twinkling as if he was watching the reflection of a star. “How do you always do this?” He shook his head, chuckling to himself before he pulled her into his arms. They stood there for a while until realisation hit Harry, “Shit, Abby what are you doing here? You have an exam tomorrow. I'll take you home directly, just give me moment-”

“Don't worry,” She stopped him from taking the keys of his car out of his pocket, “ I'm good with the exam, might walk through the party with you.”

Harry's eyes almost doubled in size, a shadow of uncertainty in his voice. “Abby, there are a lot of cameras. It's a public event… public.”

“I'm pretty cool with that.” She reassured him with a squeeze of his hand.

“Are you sure? We don't have to do this now.”He asked her, not at all trying to do anything she wasn't ready for.

“H, they have to find out someday right. Don't worry, I'm ready.”

At her words, Harry's smile grew two folds. This was not something he had thought about much but right now he loved the idea of the world knowing about them. Them, together. Harry and Abigail, Abigail and Harry - as couple.

Abigail's hair brushed Harry's arm as they sat in their respective seats, listening to the songs he had spent last year working on. He was already on the edge, hyper-aware of everyone’s reactions in the room, attempting to analyze whether they were pleased or not.

“Relax, my boy.” Abigail whispered in his ears, intertwining their hands together. She probably had the biggest and proudest smile in the room after his mum and sister.

What Harry didn't know was that he wasn't in need of comforting squeezes and uplifting words. She was.

■ ■ ■

January 2024 to July 2024

Harry Styles blinded in love!

This new year did not start on a great note. Looks like it's going downhill from there. Sources confirmed that Harry Styles has been swiped off his feet by troubled, former actress Abigail Quinn who you might remember from Disney's super hit sitcom Bunker Hill somewhat a decade ago.

The couple first photographed in early 2023, had as of yet kept their amour under wraps, but looks like they are just ready to go public now.

“He is smittened by her,” a close friend said. “It's completely different watching Harry play a dotting boyfriend but we were quite sure this one would be serious. She is a huge part of the album, if not whole.”

Quinn made an official appearance alongside Styles on his album launch party end of December last year where she was seen posing for the cameras first time since 2019.

With Styles latest record speaking bounds of being in heart-wrenching love, it's safe to say that rockstar is off the market, this time for a long while. Tell us below in our comment section, which song did you love the most from his latest album.

■■■

Popstar Harry Styles buys a new Los Angeles mansion in a family friendly neighbourhood

Riding off the success of his latest album, our favourite popstar recently splashed a whopping $29.6 million on a Bel-Air Mansion in the neighbourhood of David Beckham and Beyonce.

The six bedroom three bath household was formerly resided by musician The Weekend. As of yet it is believed to be undergoing a makeover under LA based famous interior designer, Vaughn Turing.

“Abigail is in direct contact with the designer,” a source referred, “Harry wants the house to seem exactly like a home Abigail wishes to have. All he is doing his signing cheques while she is leading the planning of their future house along with Anne and Gemma.”

“He wants a family friendly neighbourhood. He's always been close with the Beckhams and dreams to have a family like them with Abigail,” another source added.

■■■

Harry Styles and his girl Abigail Quinn make their MET Gala debut in New York City!

No year is complete without seeing Harry Styles on the red carpet of MET Gala. The handsome hunk has been co-chairing the event ever since his debut back in 2019 and this year is no different.

Or maybe it is. Styles, for a first time attended the MET Gala in hand with girlfriend Abigail Quinn. The pair were unabashedly displaying their affection all through the event. Both matched each other's outfit in a modern fairytale-esque piece by Ralph Lauren, seemingly looking like a pair made in heavens.

Prior to this, they attended Audi's pre-gala party in New York together before they were spotted dining in The Rainbow Room within the Rockefeller Centre.

Being etched to each other makes sense though, since Harry would be hitting the road with his fourth solo tour in beginning June and his lady love graduates last week in May. So maybe the in-love duo are just trying to makeup for all the time they are about to lose.

■■■

Is Abigail Quinn trying to get back to acting by using Styles?

Uh-oh! Former actress Abigail Quinn, better known today as superstar Harry Styles’ girlfriend might be using her beau to get back into acting.

As per reports, Quinn who recently graduated from UCLA as a psychology major has refused a few job offers, instead choosing to travel with her beau for his tour.

She has been spotted at a lot of industry affairs ever since she publicly started dating Styles back in December last year. A few directors maybe interested in working with her, now that being with Styles has cleared her act a bit.

Does that mean Abigail is using her relationship for professional purposes? We don't know but what we know is that Harry doesn't mind one bit.

■■■

At this rate, can Harry Styles go bankrupt?

Harry Styles donated a total of $2.2 million in just the first half 2024 to various non profit organizations. But if you think that's a huge money, wait till you hear the next.

This year Styles seems to be very reckless about his bank account. Beginning from splashing almost $30 million on his and his girlfriend’s current residence, to various exotic vacations around the world, Harry has been throwing in an unexplainable sum of money.

If LA famous investment banker Oliver Logan is to be believed, Styles could've got the mansion for less than $23 million had he waited for a few months. But apparently he wanted the place as soon as possible and ended up paying a lot more than the market price.

A lot of people have also mentioned this could be Quinn, Styles’ girlfriend's influence on him, who herself is known for being bankrupt in the past.

“It is slightly disturbing how enamoured Harry is with her,” an insider close to Styles’ team told us. “He seems like being at the top of the world nowadays. As if following the ‘only live once’ motto.”

If sources are believed, Styles’ tour was supposed to start end of May but he purposely shifted the dates so that he could see attend his girlfriend's graduation. The entire shift almost costing his team $1.3 million.

With Styles adamant to stay a charity god, and a boyfriend who spoils his girl, can we assume that the guy might be drilling a hole to bankruptcy soon, just like his girlfriend?

■■■

Couple of the Year alert: Harry Styles and Abigail Quinn were the most publicly in demand couple this summer

It's only a little over half of 2024 gone but we already know our ‘couple of the year.’

The pair have been dating for almost half an year under public scrutiny and unlike rest of Styles’ relationship, this is going strong as ever. From soul cycling in Beverly Hills, taking trips to the beach, shopping at Rodeo – we've seen the couple do all that a typical celebrity couple would do in LA.

Residing amongst Los Angeles’ elite, Styles and Quinn are the youngest couple in their neighbourhood and as per an interview of Victoria Beckham, they are the most in love couple she has ever seen. Not to forget, very respectful, ideal neighbours.

And with Abigail featuring on Harry's Gucci campaign as their first couple photoshoot, it's safe to say Harry Styles and Abigail Quinn are taking the world by storm.

■ ■ ■

August 2024

Harry loved a lot of things about his Bel-Air Mansion. The perfect sunshine invading his room every morning at the perfect hour, the white curtains flying under the wind, the green sight of the entire city that made him feel that he indeed was at the top of the world; but the thing he loved the most about his Bel-Air Mansion was the woman in his bed.

She had recently got back to the bed, clad in his ‘Treat People With Kindness’ shirt with two cups – one of chai latte and the other black coffee. It was early morning and Harry smiled rubbing his eyes. He doesn't even remember how Abigail slowly fell in love with chai latte so much that she made sure to wake up earlier than him to make her own cup. She hated it when Harry made her the chai. The only other person she would accept it from was Anne, Harry's mother.

Harry's usual dark circles had vanished just like the darkness in his life. He no longer woke up every morning still feeling exhausted beyond his life. Rather there were a lot of moments in the day he would agree with gratitude that he was well rested. And all of it's credit went to one woman.

“Good morning,” he mumbled in his ever so raspy voice as she bend down to press her lips against his chaste ones.

“Good morning, superstar. Did you sleep well?” Abigail asked, her entire weight on his body as she put her chin on his chest.

“Do you ever let me sleep well, babe?” His smile was still very persistent.

At his statement, Abigail squinted her eyes before lowering down his body. Slowly, very slowly. It was torture for Harry to say the least. He was only in his Calvin Klein boxers, the one he had changed into after having sex last night because sleeping clean is something Abigail insists on.

It was maddening to Harry, how even after an year together, he was still extremely nervous when it came to Abigail. She was his, she was his. He knew that yet couldn't believe that.

Her face was somewhere near his navel when he chuckled nervously, “It's okay babe. You don't have to.”

Abigail rolled her eyes, hitting his side with a couple of envelopes that lied beside. “I was only getting these. Why? What did you think?” When she rose her eyebrows all in faux innocence, Harry rolled his eyes still found himself chuckling along. Getting up from above him, Abigail reached for the other side of the bed, popping down the mail envelopes in front of her. “There's an invite to a charity ball by Disney for the 23rd, its entire hamper waits downstairs for you. There is a thank you note from Gucci headquarters for our campaign. And there is a...”

Harry was happily taking a sip from his coffee listening to the mails he had received when Abigail suddenly stopped, prompting Harry to look up. “There is a what, Abby?” He didn't receive much of an answer instead a frown and her just rolling her lips. “Here show it to me.”

It was a bank notice.

Harry sighed opening the envelope and reading the context before throwing it on a drawer on his bedside like the many others stocked up there. When he turned around he saw Abigail looking at him with an anticipated, concerned expression.

“Oi, it's nothing.” He pulled her onto his chest and she softly kept her head there. “They want me at the bank. I'm sure Smithers only wants to discuss investments regarding the tour.”

“Please don't lie to me H,” Abigail said. “I told you we don't need these extravagant purchases and vacations. You spent $32 million at this place Harry. That was a terrible bargain.”

“Abby what are you saying. It's our home. For me this is the only one that hasn't felt entirely empty.”

Abigail shut her eyes at his words. They were absolutely true, she knew that. “I know babe. I'm just saying… we could've avoided the vacations. I mean Bali, Miami, Australia, Valentines day, my birthday, the lawsuit against paparazzi – it was all too much H.”

Harry chuckled at her tone, well aware that she was blaming herself for this entire situation. “It's nothing, darling. The lawsuit was for your safety. I don't want them following you everytime you're out. Trust me we don't have financial issues to take care of. I'll just get the meeting done quick.”

“I'll come with you,” Abigail insisted as Harry got up to the wardrobe, grabbing a towel.

“No, no need I'll take care of it and Jeffrey will be there as well. Nothing to worry about,” Harry shook his head getting out of his briefs as he held a hand out to Abigail. She took it willingly, her own thumb rubbing her man's wrist. “As I bathe please pick me a good dress shirt and while I'm gone you can pack our bags. We leave for New York tomorrow morning, remember?”

Harry watched Abigail bite her lip hardly for a little moment before she broke into a grin and pressed a kiss on his lips in a gesture of agreement. But for some unknown reason, Harry felt the grin was highly undermotivated.

■■■

The negativity he felt was bound to happen. It was something that Harry felt whenever he had to go through these meetings with his financial adviser, lawyer, managers and a group of bank officials. What was supposed to be an hour of discussion turned around four hours of it, more because Harry could not see eye to eye with any of these men who claimed that they were trying to help him.

Most of the time, they listed his newly developed, heavy ‘spending more than earning’ habit with examples of his recent splurges – most of which were on Abigail. Harry could not even imagine cutting any of those. The mansion, the lawsuit, the occasions – according to him it was all necessity rather than luxury.

The lawsuit itself caused him a big chunk of money but Harry was adamant not to sacrifice on Abigail's safety. As much as he loved posing in front of the camera and proudly showing off his girl to the world, he liked doing it on professional platforms – events, galas, photoshoots. Not when they both were walking down the street to grab coffee, and especially not when she was walking alone.

“I'm so fucking exhausted, Jeffrey.” Harry exhaled running his hands over his face. He sat with Jeffrey in the cafe at the bank, their coffees and lunch placed in front of them.

“Why the hell are you exhausted? You have done nothing but throw money and listen about it.” Jeffrey said through his deep frown.

“Not you as well, mate.” Harry licked his lip reaching for the silver fork to cut his food. “You're my friend.”

“And that's exactly why I am telling you this.” Jeffrey reprimanded, hitting their table with his fist in a clear sign of pique. “Right now you're in a bubble of love but one day that bubble would burst and you'll see nothing will stay pretty in pink.”

Harry watched his friend in a vexed manner, too sure of his own tone. “I don't care if the bubble bursts. I'll still have her. It's her, us I'm spending my money on and I'm sorry if I don't see how her safety is bargainable.”

“Her safety is not bargainable, H.” Jeffrey replied exasperatedly, “ I care about Abby as well. I'm talking about the vacations. You've spend the entire summer abroad, taking flights every other day.”

“Let me live, Jeffrey.” Harry rolled his eyes, he was too tired from everyone telling him the same thing over again. “I worked so hard on the album, I'm working my arse off on the tour. Let me spoil my girl, she deserves an extravagant life. Don't tell me if you earned that much, you won't be doing the same for Glenne and Thea.”

Jeffrey winced audible at Harry's choice of words, “Even if your extravagant life is on debt?” Jeffrey spoke this time in a lower tone than earlier. “$2.2 million on charity, seriously?”

“Don't talk about charity.” Harry said, “You know I've always done it, it gives me a sense of purpose.”

“It gives you a fucking reputation, Styles.” Jeffrey replied in a dark chuckle. “Till one moment it was because you wanted to help but right now it's nearly mandatory. As if you want to outdo your own amount, you don't even give a damn for the cause. Fuck pal, you don't get it you're hurting yourself.”

“Shouldn't you be pleased?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Jeffrey, “I am the most charitable musician right now, I have a girlfriend, a stable home, perfect life. And the world knows it, they know it and they are jealous. Maybe you're too because I'm not longer a pathetic, sad pop star you can save, Jeffrey. I am happy.”

Harry had always been perfect professionally for the world. For once he was perfect personally as well, for the world. Harry Styles was at the top of the world, it was a different kind of high he was experiencing and by far, he had loved it.

Jeffrey kept his eyes on the untouched food on his side for a little too long. He tried cutting his food but instead only ended up playing with with silverware all the while as Harry took bites over bites of his food. “I care about you more than this faux rep, H.” He let out a deep sigh, “But I suppose we we have very different working styles now.”

That caught Harry's attention and he suddenly stopped eating. “What.. what do you mean?”

“I quit.” Jeffrey announced raising his hands up in air. “I.. I can't deal with you any longer. You're not the guy I signed up for, the guy who used to be private. You're just another bag of celebrity bullshitery – the one you were so determined not to be.”

“I'm not. I'm fucking not.” Harry rebuked too quickly and too loudly. “I'm tired of hiding everything. For years I've seen you and Glenne in public, holding each other's hands, proudly telling the world you both are in love. I was jealous...I was fucking jealous that I have to keep my single label open so that my fan base is not hurt. And whenever anything I did went public the media ruined it.”

Jeffrey chuckled shaking his head. “What tells you they won't ruin it this time?” With that he got up from his seat, leaving his food untouched and his once best friend bewildered. “I might not have as much money as you but I've paid my share of bill. I hope you get a better manager, H. Good luck.”

Jeffrey left after that but Harry could only hear the words he said before leaving – ‘What tells you they won't ruin it this time?’ He shook his head, throwing away the thoughts and continuously telling himself that this is different, this is love and this is Abigail. No fucking one would ruin it.

What Harry didn't know was playing with fire and not touching it was practically an impossible task that even knew the man who could conquer the world, couldn't do.

■■■

“Thank you, Abby,” Harry said taking the champagne filled flute goblet from Abigail's hand before patting the space beside him. She took it, instantly putting her head on his chest. He could tell that she was tired, so was he, both of them trying to find solace in each other. They sat there, on a faun leather seat of Harry's private jet, their breathing synchronised and so were their thoughts.

“I am sorry about Jeffrey.” Abigail mumbled softly.

“No, I am sorry babe. I am so fucking sorry.” Harry let out in an exhausted tone. “We.. we had this argument and he doesn't see it. He's one of my best mates, I didn't want to let him go. But why is it always me who should understand, with him, with the boys, with dad. Why can't they understand?”

“Hey, hey. It's fine.” Abigail got up from his chest to rub his arms in an attempt to calm him down. “You don't have to understand anything, Harry. You don't have to keep it so hardcore. You can talk about your dad with me, if you want to. Especially today.”

It was his father's birthday. It would've been his 67th birthday had he been alive. That is why today was no less than a day of mourning for Harry.

“I know you're really tired and probably don't want to be bored-”

“Don't do that.” Abigail stopped him, her hand lifting to his shoulder. “Harry, I’m here to listen to you for as long as you want me to, about anything.”

Harry watched her in awe. Sometimes it filled his eyes how lucky he had gotten to have this woman by him. There and then he knew that as long as he had her, he was ready to take all the daggers thrown at him; by others or by himself. “Okay.”

So for the next hour their conversation centred around Desmond Styles and the life he lived. Harry left out no details about his father, even marking the smallest bits that could easily go unnoticed by people. There were stories all scattered before the band, during and after. There were a lot of open ended points that Abigail wanted to question; like the time his dad called him out after a fight with Zayn, the time he went straight to his father's house disappearing when the there was a drug racquet in the band's hotel, but she decided against it, giving him his own time. Abigail could figure out that Harry felt a plethora of things about his father – anger, disappointment, love, resentment but the one he felt strongest was guilt. But she also knew that guilt was a significant part of who Harry Styles was and with every passing year, the amount of people he felt that emotion towards increased. After a while the chat lingered from Harry’s family and past and moved onto the tour and his plans of the rest of the year.

“Don’t worry. Glenne told me he is a bit angry right now but he'll be fine.” Abigail caressed him but a cloud of anxiety hovered over herself. “Soooo… this afternoon I went with Glenne for Thea's check up.”

“Yeah right. I completely forgot about that. How's her fever?” Harry perked his eyebrows, asking about his goddaughter and Jeffrey's biological one, in concerned tone.

“She's okay, just a common cold. They said it will be better in a few days. But Harry I… I had a checkup for myself.” She rolled her lips in after saying that.

“Y-You?” His eyes were wide, her words more the cause of perturbation to Harry. “What happened? Are you not feeling well? We can call off the show, I'll take you to the best doctors as soon as we land. Tell me-”

“I'm fine.” Abigail announced before sighing deeply. “Harry I'm… I'm pregnant.”

And just like the entire hole of guilt Harry felt towards his father vanished. He had spent last three years wondering why, despite being on his best behaviour always, he could not convince his father that this life would not ruin him. Maybe he was at fault somewhere or maybe his father was, for not supporting his son. But all of that vanished the moment he heard this news. This was his chance, his chance of rectifying all of his mistakes, all of his father's mistakes.

“Harry?” Abigail shook him out of his thoughts.

“Can you pinch me?” She rolled her eyes pinching him just hard enough. Harry let out a wince before tears swelled up in his eyes, so fast he didn't know how to control them. “I love you, I love us… fuck I love… thank you so, so much babe.”

He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her before showering her face with kisses. Usually he would have her pressed against himself in the closest hug known to man, but today his hands were slow and cautious. Abigail pulled away from him with a frown. “Oi this is the hug I get?”

“I don't want to crush our baby.” He remarked slyly.

“Jesus, you're an ass.”

■■■

It was impossible to miss Abigail in the crowd. Even in the sea of fans, the silk white fabric of her dress stood out. She sat with her family, sandwiched between her parents, beside her brother and his fiancè. Harry felt extremely lucky that her parents took the liberty of time to make a quick trip for his concert before they returned back to Pennsylvania.

There were thousands of people crammed into Madison Square Garden, fans of varying age groups, some with him since his One Direction days others finding his solo career their new favourite thing about pop music. Harry doesn't remember a single tour he had completed without playing in The Garden, each time the entire hall making him feel at home.

But this time it was different. This time his real home was here, amongst the attendees and now that a part of his own lived and breathed in her, Harry wasn't sure what else heaven sounded like.

His attention was on each part of the crowd, making sure his fans had the time of their lives as long as they were in this room, but every time his eyes fell on Abigail it made him grin so wide that his jaw ached. There was a certain patch of the show he saw she wasn't in her assigned location but when she returned back he assumed she must've gone to the loo.

She swayed with the crowd, whistling every once in a while. They were seated far back in relation to the stage, so Harry imagined the proud smile Abigail sported. It was the same one she showed off backstage when Harry was greeting his fans after the show was over.

He invited her family with his tour mates to their hotel lobby for drinks and dinner. Abigail's brother and his fiancè chatted with Harry while her mother praised his performance to no ends. Abigail was equally celebratory before she urged to return to their room. Harry assured her he will be joining her shortly.

Harry sent Abigail's family off with leftovers, hugging each of them before their flights back to their respective homes. He didn't bother as much to see off his mates, instead making his way up towards his hotel room, the urge to finally talk to the love of his life making him smile like an idiot in the elevator.

“Abby, Abby, Abby. You have no clue how much-” He started saying but stopped abruptly when he saw her bent down over drawer closet with a vial in her hand.

Abigail looked like she’d been caught trying to steal something, but rather she addressed it completely innocently.

“Uh, hi ” She blurted, abruptly closing the drawer behind her and taking a step towards him. “I didn't see you there.”

“All good, love?” Harry's voice cracked asking her this. He didn’t know why he felt like he was the guilty party here. She had been clean for years and as far as Harry remembered not once had she touched a drug in their entire year of relationship. Especially not now that she had a baby in her.

“Yeah, just a few medicines the doctor gave me. Pregnancy stuff.” She shrugged.

He believed her, completely relieved. Maybe the logical part of him didn't want to given how he had been the one in contact with their doctor. But because of the pious fact that she would never lie to him and his belief that she would never want to harm their baby, Harry believed her, he believe her, he believed her, he believed her.

“But I'm glad you're back.” Abigail said, walking towards him.

“Me toooooo.” He drawled, hugging Abigail from behind in the entire process showering her with limitless kisses. “So tell me how are both of my babies?”

She giggled in his arms, her blush exceeding even though she had wiped away her makeup. “They are very happy and very proud of Daddy.”

“Of Daddy?” He pulled apart to look at her with a prominence of a smirk and haughtiness.

“You're ridiculous,” she said rolling her eyes. “But since I love you here's an offer. I'm in shower, you can feel free to join anytime.”

“I'll join you in a while.” Harry smiled pressing a lingered peck on her cheek. For a solid minute after she left, he contemplated checking the vial label but finally shook his head smiling in thought of how his girl would never lie to him. He was stupid to even think that, of all, at this point would she lure back into drugs.

He had to change out of his tour suit before giving in to any kind of cruel desperations. That was an expensive item made exclusively for his tour and as many others, this wasn't his in the least sense of words.

Harry retreated to the bed, carefully taking off his shoes and watch, placing them on his bedside. His blazer and button up followed next. When he was in middle of pulling the black fabric of his shirt over his head still humming to the tunes of one his closing songs, his phone buzzed. Without even sparing a glance he answered it, putting it on speaker.

“Hello,” He sang through the speaker of his phone. Anyone on the opposite end would be sure to figure out his extremely bewitched mien.

But what followed next put his brain in a kind of turmoil he hadn't ever experienced. The weight of the voice on the opposite end overburdened his soul, making him feel as if even the sturdiest anchor in the sea could not prevent the drowning he was feeling. This drowning throwing him into a past full of stormy, tumultuous shadows, from where he has continuously tried escaping but has still not managed to succeed.

He wasn't sure if it was the words, the voice or both. Or it was when the person called him ‘mate’ after all these years. But he knew he was blanking. Harry could not hear what the person at the other end was saying, but he could only hear the echo of the words that person said the last time they had met. Over and over again.

Fuck you, Harry. Fuck you, Harry. Fuck you, Harry.

Contemplation wasn't even an option, he had to escape this. So the first thing he did was press the red sign blinking on his phone so hard, he might have broken tiny little blood vessels underneath his skin.

It petrified him how fast his heart was beating. He had no clue that this pace was even medically possible for the human body to endure. He wondered what if the walls of his arteries were not strong enough to hold the amount of blood rushing through him and they would burst, bathing his organs in the plasma, too demented to find their own place – the place they had held to for so long. Just like him.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there, on his bedside with his head down in his knees and the bubble of his perfect world struck by a meteor of his own skeleton.

“H, you didn't have to-” Abigail closed off the door behind her, but stopped mid sentence when her eyes fell Harry's timid frame. It was either shock or fear that stood on her face because as opposed to a concerned one, she had a terrified tone. “W-What happened, babe? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He was too frantic, speaking robotically. “Absolutely. I am perfectly okay.. look at me… I'm completely okay..”

Abigail stood there for a moment clearly trying to comprehend what could drive Harry to the extend she hasn't seen him in almost two years of knowing him.“Okay,” She added with caution in her voice before moving on to change the subject. “So who was it? On the phone?”

“No one. No one important. No one at all.” He replied a little too quickly, his head knowing only two phases – turbulence or blankness.

“Are you sure? It looked like the person knew you and was in need of help-”

“Yes I'm sure. It was no one.” His reply was too stern and too certain to be true.

“Harry is everything-”

He didn't want her to complete that. He didn't want to talk about anything regarding the phone call. So he changed the subject. “Do you want to watch a movie? I was thinking we could watch a romcom.”

Abigail watched him for a moment before nodding defeatedly. “Yeah. Yeah.”

The following hour Harry and Abigail spent cuddled in their suite bed, under dim yellow lights watching Love Actually. Despite this being one of Harry's all time favourite movies, he could not concentrate one bit. He didn't laugh in the moments he usually does, he didn't smile in awe at the mention of his favourite line, he didn't even rub circles on Abigail's arm. He simply sat there like statue. Any signs of him being alive were blinking and breathing – just the mandatory.

Abigail wasn't concentrating much either, her eyes more on her boyfriend than the television in front. She did try to make a little comment here and there but never really received a reply from Harry. Not even a hum. After a while, she switched over to catch over the news channels. It was the regular as well, the weather, the gossip from who's dating who that both of them were too old hear. It was only one certain live report that caught their attention.

Harry's attention.

Everything after happened in slow motion and all Harry could do was watch in horror as the video of his once-closest friend taking a bullet shot surfaced on the screen in front of him. Abigail suddenly sat up from her position, watching just in as much of a shock, glancing back at Harry. But Harry, he didn't move, he couldn't move. Anything that could move were the little droplets of tears from the corner of his eyes.

“Covering live outside Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid's New York apartment. Ex-popstar Zayn Malik has been shot on his chest by an invader who reportedly held his wife, supermodel Gigi Hadid and four years old son Eric Malik hostage in their Upper West Side house for nearly two hours.” Harry watched as the reporter on screen spoke, “Malik was supposedly visiting a friend in Queens when the invader, identified as an ex fan of his former band, One Direction called him in demand of a ransom. As per reports he, a serial criminal, was not keen on the money but blamed Malik for the dispersion of the band and was seeking revenge. Ex-popstar Zayn Malik has completely given up on his music career after the failure of his third album in 2020, ever since taking care of his son's upbringing. What do you think Malik's ex band mates would like to say about this? Harry Styles, the most successful member of the band is indeed in New York City for his fourth solo tour. Malik has been immediately admitted to New York Presbyterian Hospital and fans are requested to respect privacy.”

“Harry,” Abigail snapped at Harry. He suddenly gasped as if he was breathing after a century worth of time. Guilt surfaced his body, rising higher and higher until it practically lodged itself in his throat. Harry felt nauseous all over again, his stomach tying itself into knots, twisting and turning until he cracked. “Harry we need to go.” Abigail repeated in commanding tone. She was already in front of their half packed luggage hunting a decent piece of clothing for herself and him, one that could be worn in a hospital.

“A-A-Abby.” He mumbled through broken words still catching his breath. “Maybe we don't.” Harry licked his lips again and again, reaching for her hand to stop looking through the bag all the while as his own body shaked tremendously. “H-he didn't need me. He doesn't need me. He's been living in this city for years, he has so many people here to call, to help him. I don't even know his son, fuck I don't even know his wife. Why would he need me? Why would he call me? I'm the last person he would ever like to see, he hates me. He-”

The guilt surfaced again in him, terrifyingly clutching his lungs. Harry was rambling, probably not even listening to himself but Abigail could. And so the one thing she did there and then was slap him. Hard enough to snap him into reality.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” She screamed, shaking Harry by his arms before closing her eyes in at attempt to calm herself down. “Harry I have no fucking clue what went down with you two. But if you have a single decent bone in your body, change your clothes now. I'm driving.”

■■■

The first thing Harry heard as he reached the VIP floor of the hospital was the crying of a little boy. It very much resembled his own when his dad left the house for the first time after his divorce. Shockingly it also resembled his silent crying in the washroom of his childhood home in Holmes Chapel after the burial of his father's body, even though at that time he was a man of twenty seven.

The boy had Zayn's features. The shiny dark hair, the exact almond shaped eyes, and same sleeping posture. Gigi, his mother had him cradled in her arms telling him how his father is okay but she herself could not help the excessive black tears flowing from her eyes. It was a slow process, him going to sleep but as soon as he did, Gigi couldn't help but ball her eyes out with her son clutched close to her chest.

Harry came back to reality when a hand slipped down his own. He looked at the two hands joined and then up at Abigail giving him a tiny smile of encouragement. She raised her brows for consent to move further, one that Harry replied to with a little nod.

“Gigi?” Abigail spoke cautiously.

It took Gigi a moment to realise she was being addressed and another to realise who was addressing her. Her expression moved from glum to fury in the same synchronicity. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She growled placing her child on the seat beside her and getting up.

“Gigi-” Abigail attempted to reason, being the only one with a stable head in the moment but she was soon cut off.

“I'm sorry.” Harry abruptly said not even knowing what he was sorry for.

“Sorry? What all are you sorry for?” Gigi screamed at the top of her voice. “Actually it's not you, it's Zayn. He is the stupid one in this entire situation that he called you out of everyone to help us out. You've bailed him so many times in the past, he should've known that you'll fucking cut his call. Cut. Even after knowing what was going on and here you are showing up now. My son could've died, Zayn could've… can..can fucking die.” Her tears were endless, so was Harry's guilt and what else was endless was Abigail's shock. “And it's all because of you, Harry Styles. All because of you. I hate you, he hates you… we all hate you. You don't understand this now but the day you'll have a child and will be on the brink of losing it, you'll know how he felt when he called you and you cut his call.”

Before she even knew it, Gigi was on the floor in front of Harry's feet and the only thing audible was her cries, one after the other. Abigail knelt down to hug the blonde woman in front of her, giving her a shoulder but her own eyes never left her guilt stricken boyfriend.

Harry could not stay there anymore. He had never felt more real and vulnerable in his life as if he was being stripped naked, this time not only of his clothes but his soul. So he left, straight for the empty staircase behind a hospital door.

Abigail came there after almost an hour, the entire time Harry feeling like a child who has recently failed in a test and was waiting outside as his parent read his horrible report card.

“I didn't know. I didn't even hear him, I couldn't. He called me for first time after eight years. What did you expect me to do?” Harry spoke robotically not even looking her in the eye. “I should be leaving.”

“Harry, stop.” Abigail held his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“You heard her, he hates me. And if anything else I hate him too.” He had his lips bitten too hard after saying the last words.

“How much do you hate him?” It was more of rhetorical question Abigail had asked him, her brows together in frustration. “You hate him enough to leave him dying?”

Harry whipped around scoffing loudly, “Come on, I'm not that person. I told you I didn't even hear what he was saying on the phone.”

“You know very well that's not what I am talking about. As opposed to your thinking running away from this will not solve this issue.” It sounded more like a warning coming from her mouth. “Zayn might be on his deathbed right now. If anything you should be begging for one fucking chance to reprimand everything, but here you are.”

“Reprimand? There is nothing left. The person who needs to reprimand is on the other side.”

Abigail was high on frustration, clenching and unclenching her fist. “Harry, fuck do you suppose your ego needs any more inflation than the fact he himself called you when he needed to save his son and wife – the most crucial point of his life? What if this happened to me and our baby? Would you still not talk to Zayn for help?”

Harry felt like he had been slapped, a combination of solemn and shock in his eyes. “Abby-”

“Exactly that.” She pinpointed. “That's what he would've felt. Yet he called you, Harry.” Abigail breathed loudly before speaking.“ I have said this before and I am repeating that this is an issue. You hide the most important things, all your stories are incomplete because somewhere they are altered versions made by you that you've repeated to yourself so many times that they have become your own version of reality . The bank notice, your dad, Jeffrey and now Zayn.”

“I know that, I know this very well. Everyone have their issues, you had past issues of your own. You can't throw them on my face in an argument like that.” Harry turned around from her, taking one step down the staircase.

“You can't avoid them forever either. Somebody needs to tell you this before you make a big mistake and decide not to see Zayn,” She chided, taking a single step towards him. “I promise you, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” “You don't even know Zayn, why are you so sure about that?” “Because he so easily could be dead right now, if that happens you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. It's been more than three years your father passed away and you still beat yourself everyday that you couldn't change his opinion,” Abigail's words had suddenly dignified in Harry's opinion. He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair before he slid down to sit on a stair platform. “If Zayn leaves too you'll be carrying another pile of guilt for the rest of your life Harry. And even for king of tolerance that you are, it's no easy task.” Abigail slowly followed his actions, sitting right beside him. “Be honest with me H, why don’t you want to see him again? Even after this? What’s stopping you?”

“Because I’m terrified,” He admitted pathetically. “I have done terrible things to him as well. I was twenty one, Zayn and Louis were taking morphine in a hotel room beside mine when we had a raid, it was illegal in the country. They called me and I… I left the fucking hotel, Abby.” He cried for a while, his voice reeked with guilt. “Zayn wasn't any better, though. I almost went to prison for him.”

“You both were pretty close?”

“Closest.” He replied with a tiny smile, still keeping his head down. “Growing up, things changed, what we wanted with life changed; within the band there were disagreements, but especially we both disagreed on everything. Everyone saw it, Niall sided with me, Louis sided with him and Liam was mostly trying to cool things but he was busy in his relationship back then. Worst thing, none of us ever said sorry. And,” Harry breathed deeply, “and then I did one unimaginable thing. ”

Harry looked as guilty as he sounded when he sneaked a glance at Abigail. It was difficult for him to contemplate whether telling this to her was a good idea or not. Abigail was Harry's everything and he had every intention to shower her life with confetti and roses not thorns of his own.

“H, it's just me.” She reassured him in her raspy voice.

He nodded weakly, “One night Zayn and I wrote a song together, in one sitting. He was high off his ass but I was sober, he didn't remember much of the night… so, so I never told him he wrote that too.” Harry inhaled because he needed oxygen at the moment. Abigail had her eyes closed in disappointment but what else was even expected. Harry was more disappointed with himself than anyone else could ever be. “It went to my first album, was a massive hit. Abby sometimes I really wonder what if I didn't have that song, would I still be this huge.”

“Yes,” She recited abruptly, snaking her arm around his and keeping her head on his shoulder. “Your entire album was a hit, Harry. Not just one song.”

“I know that, just can't get the thought off.” He admitted apologetically. “And what if he had it, would his career still be going strong? Mostly I think maybe that song could've helped us rekindle our friendship.” It was something Harry thought about a lot but never cared to admit. Sighing deeply, he added, “But it's been years, I'll only hurt him more by talking to him now.”

Harry has always been ricocheting to the next high, striving to be better than himself. So much so he never even realised that the skeleton in his closet was no ones but his own. And the thing about skeletons was that they were the most deep-seeded part of your body, under the fascia, beyond the organs and tearing the strong inbuilt network of nerves and vessels – the most difficult to reach. But then once you throw them off your body, all that was left was your flesh – immovable, raw, useless flesh.

So was there really a question? Sometimes keeping your skeletons in was only viable option.

Abigail nodded in that moment, pretending to understand but Harry could see very well that this was another story he had left incomplete. And with the law of life, every incomplete story needs to be completed. The more you delay the ending the biterrer the climax gets.

■ ■ ■

November 2024

“I have that covered, Mr. Styles,” Fearne, the manager of West Hollywood restaurant Catch, replied to him after a minute long listings from Harry regarding the event.

As soon as he received a nod, Harry rushed over to the foyer where a number of cameramen were assigned their positions, to take a look over the setting in the area. The restaurant was enlightened in black and gold, fire playing a important part of the decor, in a complete modern gala esque demeanour.

It was a charity party organised by GQ magazine and hosted by Harry himself, one like so many others he regularly attended.

He stood in the foyer wearing a Dior black suit and hair trimmed for the event because he wanted to personally receive his guests, especially over the first half hour. As and when his guests arrived, he would smile, hugging them all before guiding them towards their introductory glasses of champagne.

Slowly everyone around him started filtering inside, filling the once empty interiors of the restaurant. They were all in groups, of friends, associates and uncos who laughed together a bit too much to be strangers. At one point, he greeted Jeffrey and Glenne as they arrived, giving Glenne a long, friendly but keeping it highly professional with Jeffrey with a mere handshake. There was tension between the two, one that Glenne attempted to crack with a joke but she failed miserably.

But Jeffrey didn't occupy much of his thoughts, Abigail did. As time kept on rolling, Harry frowned everytime a car would arrive but it won't be Abigail's. She had told him she was feeling tired and would rather join in with the guests a while later.

After multiple calls from his new manager to come back to the party, Harry finally did. It had been forty-five minutes since the event began rolling but Abigail was not there yet. His manager guided Harry, both of them jumping from one group to another, laughing with strangers. Abigail was mentioned every time, her not being clutched to Harry's arm like she always was, questionable to people.

Harry though, could see nothing bad in it. He smiled everytime her name was taken telling them how she would be arriving soon.

After a whirlwind of congratulatory hugs and dismissable conversations, Harry excused himself from his manager's grip to look for an isolated area. He wanted nothing more than hearing Abigail's voice for once. As if on instinct his feet rolled towards to rooftop, stopping right beside the door of the rooftop as he leaned back on the wall; all the while his eyes were busy scanning through the 4000 contacts on his phone down to one name.

It was the same line repeated: ‘The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please try later.’

With every passing moment, Harry’s concern kept on growing but he tried not to over think about the situation. Closing his eyes he allowed the November breeze to hit his face, as if opening the pores on his skin that had been closed due to excessive make-up. This felt like a deja vu for him, the light music, the silent haze in a busy room, the rooftop of Catch, November… of course November of 2022 — two years back when he had first met the love of his life in a very similar environment.

“Tequila?” Harry’s face perked up at someone talking to him. For a moment he gasped as if all of his last two years were a dream and they were about to come to reality, restarting right from the beginning.

“Abby,” He said abruptly opening his eyes, the rate of his heart ricocheting to a new high. But there instead of his girlfriend, stood a waitress dressed in a uniform holding out a tray full of tequila to him.

“Sir, tequila?” She repeated in a melancholic tone and Harry smiled taking a glass from her tray before thanking her. The waitress left but he stood there on his spot smiling faintly at the glass of liquor in front of him.

Abigail had slowly engraved herself in Harry's life. Starting from the party at Catch when she asked him for a rolled green note, then the soul cycling trip, when he first took her to his Beverly Hills mansion, when she gave him the privilege to call him her boyfriend, when she told him she's having his baby, Zayn's accident — everything had and breathed her. He breathed her.

Harry had always been a musician, he never knew he was an artist until now that he had every picture of them together, painted right in his brain.

And it all started with tequila.

It was in the midst of his thoughts when Harry heard a prominent thud from the lower floor. He ushered as quickly as the crowd around him, excusing himself through the mass. There on the ground floor, in the foyer was Abigail arguing with a guardsman over something.

Something about her didn't seem alright. Instead of the designated, sophisticated dress of Gucci, she was wearing a silver-blue sequined piece that was too short to barely cover any part of her legs, it's strap falling miserably. Her hair was untamed and wild and her eyeliner was too thick and smudged for her usual liking.

She was in the midst of an argument with flailing hands and uncontrolled movements when Harry reached there, “Abby,” he called out.

“Haarryyy! Babyyyy!” Abigail's face lit up seeing him and she took a single step towards, tumbling and falling in the process. This made Harry rush ahead so that instead of the floor, she landed in his arms. She giggled like a child, squirting in his grip. “Don't I look the hottest of all? They said this is not the dress code. Something fucking sophisticated.”

There were endless clicks from the photographers in the foyer and all Harry wanted in the moment was to protect her from becoming a public nuisance. “You look brilliant, just come with me.”

“Sir I apologise, but she does not have an invitation. I'm afraid I'll have to take her.” The guard beseeched him.

“Don't dare touch her.” Harry warned in an aprising tone.“She's with me.”

While Harry was busy talking to the guardsman, Abigail had somehow managed to release from his grip moving towards the fountain that was placed as an ornament in the foyer. “Fountain?” She gasped dramatically, “That's so much water here. No, no close it. We're saving water. Harry and I will save water.”

She was pathetically trying to close the fountain, jumping in her heels to reach its top. Harry flustered even thinking how badly she reeked alcohol; and his concern proliferated as soon as the thought of his baby came to his mind.

Just then Jeffrey came up to him with a concerned tone. “Harry is she okay? There are cameras around, she's causing a scene.”

In an alarmed tone, Harry rebuked. “She's fine, I'll take care of her.” Moving towards her, he held her arms ever so lightly whispering into her ear. “Babe your strap is a little off, let me help you.”

“Oh this, let it be. This is what they live for.” Her voice was loud and messy. “Abigail Quinn can't handle herself and her dress. Abigail Quinn using beau for getting into acting. Abigail Quinn purposely got pregnant to take relationship to the next level.” She enacted them all in a mocking voice before letting out a laughter, “Let them live, H. Let them talk and slander me all they want.”

“Babe please let me take you home.” He closed his eyes, trying to take her hand but she immediately withdrew, moving closer to the main foyer where she was under the direct gaze of the cameras.

“Home? Who's home? Your $30 million mansion that I didn't even pay a penny for? Sorry-sorry, stupid me. I don't even earn, how can I pay for anything.” She laughed like girl gone mad.

“Abigail you are not in your senses right now. Come with me, please.” Harry was begging her now, him being too sure that it was the alcohol speaking not her.

“Glenneyyy!” Abigail greeted cheerly, escaping Harry's grip. She hugged a frantic Glenne almost taking her down to the floor with herself. “I missed you so much. You and Jeffrey left us and this idiot didn't even talk to Zayn, we have no friends.”

Jeffrey and Harry fast approached the two women, trying their best to protect Abigail from being hurt. Glenne on the other hand, was a frustrated figure. “Guys, what the hell? Abigail why are you shouting?”

“I am shouting? I think I'm talking too low. There's so loud music here, I can't hear a thing.” There was indeed no music. Rather everyone's attention was only on her in a pin-drop silent mode. “Can you guys hear me? Helllllooo.”

Abigail was flailing her hands, asking for a response. It provoked Glenne to quickly shove her into Harry's body, herself holding her from the other side. “Jeffrey, I need a car fast.”

Together the trio helped Abigail into Glenne and Jeffrey's car, quite like the first time they had met before Harry gave away the address to his Bel-Air Mansion.

■■■

The night seemed infinite for Harry. From the car ride to the bedroom where Abigail dozed off like she was a dead girl — Harry was only left to process what had happened. There were multiple occasions she woke up to throw up making the floor of their once paradise room a mess of bile and tears. Harry desperately cleaned it three times, spraying his best perfumes through the room to somehow wipe away everything that happened.

But what was done was done and it was out there for the world to see.

The remaining night went with him watching her sleep on their bed as he sat on the floor close to her side, running his fingers through her hair. His eyes were bloodshot and no amount of makeup could hide the once etched dark circles that had started showing up again.

It was a little over three in morning when Abigail winced loudly, almost crying while opening her eyes. Harry immediately smiled through broken lips and glistened eyes trying to contemplate what to say. But before he could, Abigail shoved him to the side and stubbed her toe on the way to the bathroom.

Twenty seven minutes from there she came from the bathroom, now dressed in a loose trouser and a tank top of her own. She stopped in her way when she saw Harry sitting on the little sofa in their room, repeatedly hitting his forehead with his knuckles, still dressed in his white button-up and dress trousers from the event.

He sat up alarmed as soon as he heard door creake close. “Are you feeling alright, now?”

She scoffed lazily taking the seat beside him on the sofa. “How would you fucking feel after pulling a stunt like that, huh? Alright? Fantastic? Sorry, sorry you don't know this feeling. You have never pulled a stunt like that, you're all clean Styles.”

“Hey, it's fine.” Harry breathed deeply keeping a light hand over her shoulder but she pushed it off as if opposed to a hand, a bulldozer was put on her. “I'm not mad at you at all for last night, we can forget it happened. I forgave you the moment.”

“You forgive me? I didn't even apologise, Harry. I don't fucking need to,” she retorted in derision. “And of course, forget. Let's forget it happened, like you forget everything else that happens.”

“Babe-”

“Don't babe me out of this.” She snapped in the instant, the next thing that followed being a little cry. One that grew into complete balling with time. Harry tried pulling her into his chest being that his own face was wet with tears. But everytime he tried touching her, Abigail would hold his hand to stop that. And this final time she kept her hold strong caressing the anchor tattoo on his hand. “The things I said last night...in.. in that condition they were all true.”

“No, no Abigail. They are not, you said them because you were not in a clear state of mind. You didn't even know what you were talking about.” He replied in a light voice yet was very sure of his statement.

But Abigail only watched him with a disgusted, ill look, “Say it loudly… no, actually face it. What do you mean by ‘not in a clear state of mind?’ Say it loudly that I was high. That I was so fucking high that I ruined your perfect image, that golden man fantasy that you worked your ass off to create.” She was frantic using hands and all. “And yeah then throw me out. Throw me out of your sick, shallow popstar life and this mansion because you're too ashamed to be near this nuisance.”

“Are you gone mad? What are you talking about?” He was too aloof and naive.

“Even now Harry? Even now you are not going to say this loud? How much of a shallow coward are you?”

Any other day Harry would probably sit her down and talk to her about this issue but right now she was guilt stricken and maybe those were the kind effects drugs brought to people. So he thought he'd only talk to her once she was well rested. What Harry didn't know was that she was too tired from being well rested.

“You're not feeling okay right now. Let's get you some rest.” He tried getting a hold of her.

“Okay? Frankly Harry I haven't ever felt better because we might just be talking about this.” She replied in a much more energetic tone. “You can't keep on avoiding the topic as if it's bleeding nothing.”

There hasn't been a word made in the Oxford dictionary for how Harry was feeling. It was chaos in the least sense of words — his heart in knots this time instead of his stomach.

“It's them ain't it?” He bit his lips to prevent any more tears to fall down — an attempt that miserably failed. “It's the media who did this to you. They always, always fucking do it to me. They chide everything that is ever good for me. It always ends this way. People have no choice but to leave me.” “Where are you in this equation, Harry?” she asked him earnestly, leaning back to the sofa before getting up from there. “You think it's the media who fucks up things for you? Goodness you blind man, you are the one who fuck things up for yourself, Harry. At least a hundred celebrities live in this city alone, the media slaughters them all, but you act like you’ve got no say in any matter. As if they are the cause of every problem of your life and you are nothing but perfect. Flashnews, you're not. It's just a fantasy crafted for the world, that's not real. At what point do you realise only you’re responsible for all the people who left you?”

“You think my whole existence is a fantasy?” He scoffed and then shook his head, “You know how terribly difficult discipline is. Yes, fucking yes, I've never touched drugs, I've always kept my behaviour in check, but do you know how damn difficult that is?”

“And what I do isn't difficult?” Abigail berated in him putting a hand on her waist, “Being a trophy girlfriend you show off to the world, who has nothing else to do but chose your clothes, make you coffee, socialize with your friends and roam like a puppy to each of your shows — isn't difficult. Fuck Harry I graduated six months back and yet I have no job.”

Harry was everything synonymous to confused. “You said you needed time. You told me you didn't want any of those jobs.”

“Did you ever ask why? Everytime I went to an interview, they pinpointed every scandal of life and turned it into a resume not even looking at my real one till they came to the final. ‘But seeing how you've cleaned up your act, being with Styles, and keeping off substance abuse, we would be willing to hire you.’” She spoke her heart out. “They didn't understand I wasn't clean. You don't fucking make me clean Harry. There were still nights I tempted to unlock that closet, to take that vial out and just-just do it. Just inhale the coke so badly that even I can't hear my voice — feel so damn high. It's such a vicious cycle that even if you touch it once, you can't get off it.. you fucking can't. That is why I never ever wanted to do it again, not even think about it again.”

Her voice broke at the end of it, one that even softened Harry's own. “W-Why didn't you ever tell me? You always told me you were clean ever since you returned to school.”

“Because you would've left me.” A chuckle escaped her lips just as a tear did from her eye, unapologetically, “You would've left me like you leave everyone else who's a threat to your image.”

He winced, “I wouldn't have left you, babe.”

“How do I know?” She shrugged, “You left Zayn and Louis. You always stay away from these things, these people.”

“They were different.” He replied with a slight frustration.

“They were your fucking best mates.”

“What do you want me to do? Be reckless like they were. And see where they are now, nowhere. There is a cost for success, I have to pay it.” Harry tried reasoning his life choices despite knowing he was somewhere always wrong.

“They are in their homes, the ones that may not be as huge as this but at least it's not empty. They have people in their lives whom they love more than fame, and who love them. They have spouses that have fucking names, Harry. Not just ‘popstar xyz's girlfriend.’” She spoke without a breath. “You see where they are now? They are exactly where I am.”

Silence was Harry's only answer as Abigail sat on their bed with a thud. A million things ran through Harry's head and for the first time since the end of the band did Harry feel that life was happening too fast.

“Babe, we both have it right? I love you more than fame and you love me as well.” He spoke timidly.

“Oh you do? Because I don't see it one bit. Do you even care how I imagined my life when I started school? Do you remember the times I told you I could do anything to not be in the public eye anymore?” She stood up facing him again, “No, you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have thrown the cameras on my face. I don't blame those outsiders Harry, but what when you yourself aren't with me. Why would this – us, even be a thing then?”

“I am not on your side? I?” He tried everything in him to not bring this up, but now he had had enough. “I have been so fucking patient with you, Abby. I kept on tell myself that vial in your dresser is just a medication, that the rolled packets of paper in the kitchen just have sugar. But no, no I am not on your side.”

She clenched her jaw, speaking ruthlessly. “That's not called being patient, that's called being in denial. That you've always been, you still still are. These are the decisions you take in your life? Avoid, deny, close your eyes when you see something wrong, cut a phone call when it's from a person you don't like, fucking leave your best mate to die.”

They were cut throat in this fight. It was not anywhere near to a discussion now.

Harry said pacing through the room. “He's not my best mate. He's a terrible human.”

“And you aren't?” She followed him before snapping at him. “You are worse Harry. You are worse.”

“At least my decisions didn't ruin my life… And if we are talking things, I think you owe me some good explanations.” Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How long have you been taking that poison of coke? How long have you been planning to assassinate our baby with that never ending addiction of yours?”

“Wrong question boy.” Abigail had a deep mockery in her tone. “The right question is why am I taking it. After three years of being clean, why I jumped back into something that fucking ruined me. And the answer is you… because of you and the countless articles tagged in your name.”

“Abby, you can't completely blame me for your addiction and you know that.”

“I know that and I'm not blaming you for it. I'm blaming me, that I even thought you were worth it. Do you have a clue of how fucking entitled you sound nowadays? Have you bleeding seen your attitude over everything?” She chided him. “Or maybe that's been you always. You've just plastered a princess face to the world and me when I met you. But when I got to know you, this boy,” she pointed up and down at him, “he is a dammit disaster.”

“What do you want me to do Abby?” Harry deadpanned defeatedly.“I.. you want me to get a plastic surgery that people won't recognize me. It's a part of me. Famous is a part of me, you have to accept that. You knew what you signed up for.”

“Yes but I expected you to be there for me, you never have.” She cried, “And buying this outside-your-budget-house, getting me gifts and taking me to your fucking stupid vacations don't count as being there for me.”

“I… I d-don't c-choose this Abigail. I don't.” He shook his head as an array of tears fell down to his hand. Harry could see what was coming, he has seen this apocalypse too many times to discern, he just didn't know why everytime it hurt more than before.

“It's history repeating right? This happened with everyone else. With Zayn, the boys, your dad?” She accused, too sure of herself. “You are given a choice to choose between your fame and these people. And you always, always chose fame. Didn't you?” It was rhetorical question but Harry wanted to shake his head at it. Denying it, but maybe even denying it will be of no use now. “You just look for escapes. Soothing escapes. Before me your work was your escape.. then I became your escape and now that even I am ruined enough to stay with you… you'll find another escape.”

“Please don't say that… I'll leave it all.” He spoke suddenly alarmed. Harry wiped his tears abruptly before holding Abigail's arms, trying to promise her something impossible through frantic words, “I promise, I'll make the world forget who Harry Styles is. For you Abby, for us, for our baby.”

“There's no baby.” She broke through his grip so harshly that it also broke his heart. “I aborted it. I.. I knew if I keep it, I'll always somehow be associated with you. I don't fucking want that.”

Just like that Harry's entire world was ripped apart. The bubble of love disappeared, the haze of their perfect world — one with him, her and their baby — burned in the warmth of Hollywood, leaving back not even ashes.

His back hit the wall and there stood no one but a lifeless man.

It felt like a few minutes expanded into eternity, breaking the dimensions of time. And eternity was a long enough time to comprehend a lot.

He spoke exanimately before a tear dropped off his eyes. “You hate me, don't you?

“No baby, no. I love you… I love you so much I can't even tell you. I just hate your choice,” she wailed, just like him. “And Harry if you want the world to forget who Harry Styles is, tear yourself apart. Fucking get a pair and apologise, Harry. Apologise to everyone you did this to. Everyone you never stood up for. Everyone you lost for fame. That's the only goddamn way you’re gonna get yourself out of this mess. And I…I have my own mess to clear, once again.”

The fight seemed closed off on both the ends. Silence enveiled the air around them as he slid to the floor, his knees pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face into his worn out jeans.

“You're right, this is me. I ruined it all and only I can fix this.” He said exasperatedly before looking at her with begging eyes.“B-But.. n-not... us. Not us, right Abby?”

Abigail's face crumbled at his words as endless tears dripped down her cheeks. “Maybe Jeffrey was right when he said we are a combination of a catastrophe, hmm?” she chuckle half-heartedly, taking Harry's face in her hands, his tears wetting her palm. Harry didn't reply. He had never felt more tired in his lifetime, but watching everything you've ever built, slowly and painfully crumble down in front your eyes could do that to you. Rumours and articles had never bothered him much because the things printed were nowhere near truth. But what she said, each word off her mouth was true and that cut him like a piece of glass.

He had her head leaned against his shoulder as she briefly closed her eyes and letting time escape them. For one moment, just one moment, he needed to feel okay again. But okay was not going to come so easily, it would take years to walk down the ladder of success, to meet and apologise to everyone he had once lost, to find Harry more that Harry Styles and worst part; even if he did all of that he would never get the one woman he wants in his arms ever again.

He knew he had to start with Zayn. He owed him more than he owed anyone anything and if he is anyhow lucky Zayn would accompany him in his trip ahead, only if he was lucky.

In that one night numerous stars garnished the moon on the navy skies of California, children slept in peace between their parents in their tiny beds, concert shows sold out in a single moment, birds slowly started waking up before the break of dawn, the entire universe worked just in the equilibrium it was supposed to – amongst it all in an empty house of a posh street – a star was torn.

#1dff #exchanges

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