#beyond that only time will tell. i could be 100% wrong about all of this but. there's a lot of staying power in controversy.

[userautumn]

through no fault of his own, i think sebastian stan might have actually tanked his career with the apprentice

[priyajoyyy]

Tangled

Clarisse la rue x repunzel!pesephone!fem!reader

Reader spent their entire life hidden away in a tower to protect her from the outside world wanting her for her powers, its only when a certain daughter of ares finds her scared and confused, that she finally gets to see the outside world like she always longed to.

Warnings:

Toxic parents, yandere!parents, oblivious!, Clarisse being stubborn, overprotectiveness, cannon typical violence, readers not got the best survival instincts 😭, reader is blonde, more to come maybe

Gods had a weird way of protecting people. And while you could confidently say they your parents were never intending to harm you or your siblings. They definitely went about it in weird ways.

Of course you never realised this, being locked away in a tower your entire life was all you even knew. You didn’t understand that your life wasn’t normal.

You didn’t realise you weren’t the only child your parents had hidden off in magical locations to protect them from Zeus and the dangers of the world in their own twisted ways.

And so you stayed where you were, waiting in your tower for the days that your parents would come and visit or the few creatures of the forest you had befriended came to your window.

With not much else to do but paint or read everyday in the same walls. Your hair growing and failing to ever stop, getting to the point of it being constantly in the way.

🍊☀️🪷

Clarisse was beyond confused.

She was 150% sure they had come the same way they had 100 times before. She was convinced. And yet there had never been a giant tower int he middle of the path all the other times they had taken this route.

Her brother suggested that maybe they took a wrong turning, surely they were just lost.

But Clarisse refused to acknowledge the idea she could even being wrong, no she was curtain they came the right way.

Besides they needed somewhere to camp out for the night anyway, so she took off towards the tower.

“Clarisse what are you doing?” Her brother shouted after her, the girl from the Hermes cabin turning to give him a look of annoyance.

The two followed after the girl, watching for a while as she searches around for some sort of entrance before giving up and turning back to them.

“Come on, we need to find a way up” Clarisse tells the two, not being able to find any sort of entrance other than the window near the top of the tower.

“Why?” The blonde girl asked in annoyance, “can’t we just go find somewhere to settle for the night?”

“Yeah clarisse it’s getting late, we can find our bearings in the morning” her brother added.

“This is somewhere to settle for the night” Clarisse stated plainly, rolling her eyes when the two stared at her in confusion, “it’s a giant tower in the middle of nowhere with no doors…no one’s living up there”

“I don’t know Clarisse…I mean this is meant to be a satyr trail, surely someone’s up there” the boy tried to reason.

“Aren’t you curious?” Clarisse asked, “I know we came the right way, this part of the route is blocked off, there is literally no way we got lost”

She was right, this small section of the trail was hidden away, you could only get in and out through two small entrance/exits, covered by plant life to hide it off.

They had been through the secret path a million times and never once was the tower there.

“Well how do you expect we get up?” The girl asked in defeat.

Clarisse looks around for a moment, before grabbing the bag off of her back and pulling out two daggers and holding them up to the two.

“No” the elder boy stated, to which Clarisse turned and made her way towards the walls of the tower, grabbing onto the vines to test their strength, “no no no Clarisse stop it right now”

The girl ignored him, stabbing the dagger into the wall inbetween the cracks and using both of them and the vines to begin to pull herself up the wall.

“I swear to god Clarisse get down right now!”

“I’ll see if there’s another way to get up once I’m up there” Clarisse calls down to them as they stare at her dumbstruck.

“I’m gonna kill you when you get down!” he called up to her.

“I hate your sister” the blonde said to the boy nonchalantly, collapsing to sit on the floor and wait for the ares daughter to be done you her adventure so they could get to bed.

“Tell me about it” the boy replied glaring up at her as she made her way to the top.

Clarisse made her way up, using the, surprisingly strong vines and plants growing off of the tower as her main support on the way up.

Once she made it to the window she pulled herself up on to the ledge, looking down to see her quest mates sat on the ground talking, rolling her eyes at the sight.

She quietly forced the shutters of the large window open, stepping on the flower bed as she climbed through into the room.

🍊☀️🪷

You hadn’t heard anything while Clarisse had been climbing up the walls, busy in your room painting as she entered into the main room of the tower.

Your hair was laid around the different rooms, leading through doors and hanging from ceilings in an attempt to keep it out of your way, something Clarisse stared at in confusion as she quietly wondered around the room.

She was clearly wrong about no one living in the tower, there were candles and lights lit across the room, and a fire lit int he fireplace.

The kitchen was full of food and everything was relatively clean. And not to mention the yards and yards of hair laid across the place.

That’s what confused Clarisse the most, surely no human had this much hair.

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she stepped backwards, tripped on some of said hair and fell onto the floor, alerting you in the other room.

You heard the noise and turned around quickly, your hair curling round you slightly causing it to tug, getting caught underneath Clarisse and yank on your head slightly. Making you squeak in shock.

Clarisse heard this from the other room, her eyes widening as she looking towards the doors that someone clearly resided in.

Both of you grabbed your weapons, Clarisse clutching one of her daggers, and you running to grab a vase off of a cabinet. Inching your way towards the door that separated the two of you as Clarisse stood up.

Clarisse started to walk up the stairs towards the door as you walked down the hallway, both of you stopping at the door before Clarisse decided to push through it suddenly.

You screamed as the mystery girl collapsed on top of her, hair covering your face as you flailed about, trying to get her off of you as she try’s to find the dagger that she lost on the floor.

“Get off of me” you grunted, pushing the hair out of your eyes and attempting to push her off of you, “who are you?”

Clarisse finally finding her dagger, held it to your throat, causing you to stop fighting back, breathless and staring at the weapon in her hand with wide eyes.

“Who are you?” Clarisse retorted, glaring down at the girl as if she wasn’t the one breaking and entering.

“You’re in my home” you say back in shock, frowning at how the knife gets closer to you.

“And I’m holding the dagger…see how this works?” Clarisse tells you with a smirk, flipping it in her hand as she kept it near your throat.

“I-I’m y/n…” you replied slowly, not knowing what to tell her. Looking at her with wide eyes as she huffs in realisation that it wasn’t the most helpful question to ask.

“Well why do you live here?” Clarisse asks noticing the way the girl looked confused and adding, “I mean you’re in the middle of the forest in a tower with no doors…”

“And I mean what’s going on with your hair, it’s so long” Clarisse continued, “and who uses a vase as a weapon?”

You didn’t really know what to say to any of that, looking at her blankly.

“I…don’t know” you answered eventually, adding in a small voice, “can you please get off of me”

Clarisse sighed, getting up slowly but still holding the dagger pointed towards her as she did.

“Why are you in my house?” You asked meekly, staring at the dagger in fear. Clarisse rolled her eyes noticing your wariness, putting the dagger down to her side to try calm you down.

“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you try anything ok?” Clarisse stated, “I was just looking to see if we could stay the night in here, I didn’t realised anyone lived here or anything”

“We?”

“My friends, well not really my friends but, well they’re just outside” Clarisse told you, “why are you in a tower by yourself exactly? And seriously what’s going on with your hair”

“I just live here…I don’t know what you mean” you answered, “and I guess it’s just my hair…my mum says it’s special”

“Your mum? Special how what do you mean”

“I don’t know it just is” you said, “w-wait, no, I’m not meant to tell anyone that”

Clarisses eyebrows furrowed at that, looking at you as though you were an idiot causing you to blush at her.

“Why can’t you tell anyone about your hair…” Clarisse asked.

“Mummy said not to” you said hesitantly.

Clarisse smirked at that, only seconds ago you said you couldn’t tell anyone and yet here you were continuing on with the subject.

“And mummy is?” She asked condescendingly, something you didn’t pick up on as you went to answer.

“Ummm Persephone…” you responded simply.

“What?” Clarisse asked in confusion, looking at you like you were mad. Sure, she knew you couldn’t be mortal, but a demigod?

She supposed the flowers and plants in full bloom in autumn made sense by that, it didn’t quite explain the hair but she was sure it had something to do with that.

“You’re a demigod?” She asked in confusion.

“What?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at her, “what’s that?”

Clarisse stared at you for a moment, you felt like she was scrutinising your entire existence as she looked you up and down.

Suddenly she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the door, you stumbling as she continued down the stairs towards the main room of the tower and leaving you stood in the middle.

You watched her as she made her way to the window, opening it again and shouting down at her ‘friends’ she told you about earlier.

“It’s all safe” Clarisse shouted, before turning back to you, “do you have any rope?”

You looked at her in shock that she was just inviting people inside your home, speaking when she sent you a look of annoyance, “no?”

Clarisse looked around the room for a moment before settling on your hair that hung around the room, turning back to you with a new look in her eyes.

“You sure?” Clarisse asked, leaning down to pick up your hair and hold it up for you to see.

“W-what? No you can’t use my hair!” You told her, rushing forward to remove it from clarisses hands leaving you stood right in front of her.

She looked down at you with a smirk, taking the hair back, “come on, they won’t hang from it or anything, they just need something to hold for leverage to get up”

You rolled your eyes with a pout at that, looking up at her before walking towards the window, looking down at the two on the ground, who were now beyond confused at the blonde girl appearing.

You leant over to reach the walls of the tower then, Clarisse running over to hold on to you as you stumbled slightly, “be careful!”

You blushed feeling her hands on your hips, shaking yourself out of it and leaning down to touch the plants and vines attached to the stone.

Clarisse watched as the plants grew, covering the side of the wall all over and bits of vines hanging down for the two at the bottom to hold on to.

Once it was fully grown you turned back around to Clarisse, underestimating how close you both were when you did so.

You smiled up at the shocked look on her face, proud of yourself for figuring out a solution to the situation, hearing clarisses brother begin to scale up the side of the wall as you and Clarisse faced each other.

Taglist:

@slaggylemon @yourmom-25s-blog @l0veshellarcelia @asvterias @ashisabitgay

Wanna rewatch tangled now 🤩

Pretty sure this is shit but oh well

[sanaexus]

short n' sweet- prologue

after winning the U20 vs Bluelock match 28th January 2019, 11:48pm __________________

rin was pissed, beyond pissed, he was frustrated, angry but mainly disappointed. he failed to get sae to recognize him. again. he was shaken out of his thought when you ran up to him hugging him.

"rin!! you won. bro said nah he'd win and actually won!" you arms were wrapped around him what was this sudden feeling in his chest? it felt...comforting? your giggles were ringing through his ears and your perfume was so sweet. why was this hug different? he's hugged so many times, why was this time any different?

"rin? rinrin? with this treasure i summon the" you pulled away looking up at his face, it looked sad and angry but confused? you wondered what was going on behind those gorgeous eyes. wait what? gorgeous eyes? when did you start feeling that way about him?

your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "yeah, we won" he sounded uninterested and bored.

"oh come on! cheer up a little you just won one of the most important matches of your career so far, you could be a little happy you know.." you tried you best to comfort him but you doubted it would work

"happy for what? that isagi was the one chosen by sae? that isagi is the hope of japanese football? is that was you want me to be happy about?" shit. he didn't mean to snap, he really didn't but it just came out he wanted to apologize but before he could you cut him off.

"okay why the fuck are you taking out your anger on me? i came all the way from madrid just for you and that's how you wanna talk to me? fuck off" fuck he messed up didn't he?

while walking away you bumped into this guy with a weird haircut who you recognized was bachira, rin had mentioned him before, he was the guy who had a monster right?

"oh sorry i didn't mean oh wait you're uhh bachira right? amazing plays man! you were so cool out there!" you complimented the taller male which made him blush, he was cute that was no doubt.

"yeahh thank youu WAIT YOU'RE Y/N RIGHT? LIKE THE STREAMER Y/N? HOLY FUCKING SHIT IM A HUGE FAN!"

"y-yeah, please quite down a little i'm y/n i don't wanna attract any unwanted attention"

"oh oops sorry i got a bit silly, can i have your number?" he was smiling like a small kid it was hard to not melt, but you only met this guy, but he looked harmless what's the worst that could happen?

"yeah sure it's xxx-xxx-xxx"

"cool thank you! you're rin's friend right?"

"yeah, good friends i've known him since i was in diapers so i guess so, wait how'd you know?"

"i saw you talking to him, is everything alright by the way? you look a bit off"

"just a small argument with rin it's nothing"

"he's a silly little fella he'll come around he's just on his periods probably"

that made you giggle, "yeah probably" bachira was really nice a bit odd but he was a really sweet guy, you were questioning why rin called him weird but rin thinks everyone is weird right?

"anyways i'll text you i need to go catch up with my team it was really nice meeting you though!"

"you too bachira, i'll see you around"

walking away you got a notification on your phone you have been added to "lvl 100 rizzlers"

oh what the fuck?

lvl 100 rizzlers

xxx-xxxx-xxx recognize this number mr edgelord

rinrin oh you fucker

xxx-xxxx-xxx who the fuck is that baxhira?

xxx-xxxx-xxx is it a female? FCUKIGN FINALLY

xxx-xxxx-xxx challenge: otoya try to stop being horny (NIT CLOCKBAUT GONE WRONG😱😱)

"oh so are they in love or they not in love?"  -bachira

will rin accept his feelings for you? or will he keep denying it? will you realise that maybe your feelings aren't one sided? only time, situations and his " friends" will tell.

the text from now on will be image wise and not actually typed out (?) if that makes sense

[inotakumagf]

the beast at the heart of the world

✶ gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count ✺ 1.7K

summary ✺ you’ve had a shadow following you since you were a kid. one day, it tries to hurt you.

warning ✺ kind of creepy descriptions of a cursed spirit, but it’s not super gory or anything like that. also i never usually enjoy instant love, but reader and gojo are very touch-starved, so it kinda goes from 0 to 100 real fast oops. reblogs & comments r very appreciated <3

You started seeing the creature when you were seven years old.

He’s never spoken to you, but he’s always watching. At least, you think it’s a he. The creature has pale, rubbery skin with pointed ears and a towering figure. The way he stares at you reminds you of how your father does, and the comparison causes panic to burst against your seams. 

The first time you notice him, you’re playing with your dolls in your bedroom. You focus on the story you’re telling with your Barbies, trying to ignore the way your parents scream at each other in the kitchen. You have this suffocating desire to make them stop, even if that means hurting them. You don’t want to—you know you’d never—but you can’t shake the overwhelming anger brewing inside of you. 

When you finally look up, your heart drops at the sight of sharp, glistening teeth peeking out from your closet. The only thing visible in the shadows is the curling grin of a beast, and it feels like a twisted promise to rip you apart. You notice its red, beady eyes next, and you whimper when you realize it’s looking right at you. The creature’s grin widens.

You scream for your mother to save you, hands clamping over your eyes as you sob. At least your parents’ argument stops as your mother comes to see what’s wrong. When you point out the creature to your mother and explain the situation, she throws open your closet door, to your absolute horror. But her smile doesn’t change as she steps to the side and motions to the closet, the monster still staring at you with its full attention. You cry when you realize she can’t see the creature. Its gaze burns into you as she reassures you that there’s nothing to worry about, even as the creature drools over her shoulder. 

You learn two things that day: one, no one else besides you can see this creature. And two, it follows you. Everywhere. 

You don’t know why, but he never, ever takes his eyes off of you. And he never stops smiling. You have to ignore him every second of your life after that, pretending that he doesn’t tower over you and terrify you beyond comprehension. No matter how many years it’s been since you first saw him, your heart and body freeze every time you look over your shoulder and see the imposing figure of your monster. Truly, it could be worse. He’s never touched you before, he’s never put you or anyone else in physical danger. He just stands a short distance behind you, and he stares. But the anticipation is so overwhelming that it may kill you before he does. You often cry yourself to sleep, hoping that he will just go away. Why can’t he go away?

Sometimes, he stands so close that you think he’ll swallow you whole. You know he thinks of it, because his large mouth is wide open as he peers down at you, letting his saliva drip over you. After all these years, it’s still nearly impossible not to sob in fear or flinch away from him, especially when you’re in public. It's so debilitating, and it turns something as simple as ordering coffee at a cafe into a dreadful process. 

Like now, you try to order your drink, stumbling over your words as you do your best to ignore the creature standing beside you. Your voice cracks and you freeze as the monster drops its head onto your shoulder. You can feel its clammy skin against yours, and there’s a slight scratch as brittle hair brushes against you. A sob bubbles in your chest as the creature licks a trail up your face with its long tongue.

“I–can I…?” You can’t finish your sentence, too busy trying not to scrunch your eyes closed at the feeling of his slimy, purple tongue dragging all over you. He’s never touched you before, and you don’t know why he has now. Maybe his insatiable hunger has gotten the best of him. 

You make a strange noise in the back of your throat. The barista in front of you rolls his eyes at the state of you. You can’t really blame him, because you know how you must look.

“Are you gonna order?” He asks impatiently.

You clench your fists and try to at least breathe in and out. “I–”

The bell to the front door jingles as someone pushes the door open quickly. You and the barista turn to the man that has entered the cafe. He has snow white hair and a dark pair of glasses that he pushes up the bridge of his nose. You can see how his chest rises and falls quickly, as if he’d just run a marathon. He swipes his gaze across the room before meeting your eyes. Your eyes widen when he locks his eyes with yours. 

“Are you ordering or not?” The barista’s annoyed voice brings you back to reality.

An apology is on the tip of your tongue, but the man who’d just stepped inside comes over with a grin on his face. 

“Sweetheart! Sorry to make you wait, I couldn’t find my card.” He stands besides you, laying a careful hand on your shoulder. He pouts at the barista. “I didn’t mean to make you guys wait, we’ll order now. What was it that you said you wanted to try, honey?”

You startle when you realize he’s talking to you. You stumble through your order. The mystery man orders after you do, handing the barista his card to pay and making small talk. Your drinks are made fast, and you can’t blame the barista for wanting to be rid of you as soon as possible.

You don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s not the stranger keeping an arm over your shoulder as you leave. He doesn’t let go after you walk out of the shop, or even when you’ve traveled a block away. Your heart stutters in fear as you try to think of a way to escape his grip. 

But then he whispers into your ear, “Do you want me to handle this thing for you? It’s awfully close, don’t you agree?”

It takes you too long to realize he’s talking about your monster. Your monster that no one should be able to see. “You can see it too? I thought I was crazy.”

He grins. “You still might be, that’s not for me to decide. This special grade curse looks like it’s been brewing for a while. You poor thing, you can’t get rid of it, can you?”

You blink. “What? Special grade what?”

He ignores you, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in comfort. “How long has it been bothering you?”

“Since I was seven.”

For the first time, he looks surprised. “That long, huh? Let me take care of it, sweet pea. You won’t have to suffer much longer.”

You feel a rush of wind at your side and the stranger’s warmth disappears. It feels like you blink, and the creature turns to dust. Just like that, almost twenty years’ worth of suffocation is gone. The constant, overwhelming pressure against your skin is gone. The man appears at your side once more. 

It’s such a relief, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly you deflate against this man. He holds you to his side gently, running his hand against your back as you sob into his neck. You should have more shame, but you can’t bring yourself to care at all. 

You mutter your gratitude into his skin, and you can feel him shudder against your lips.

He lets out a shaky breath before grinning at you. “How ‘bout I walk you home? So I can make sure none of these curses bother you anymore, sweetheart.”

You’re flustered, stumbling over your reply before giving him a, “O-okay. Thank you.”

He lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Of course, honey.”

You can’t handle it. This man is a stranger, but he’s so…friendly. Thanks to your monster—your curse—you’ve never allowed yourself to be close to anyone in fear that the creature would snap and have its way. And though it’s hard to break away from your habit of fear, this man’s presence calms your fast-paced heart. He makes you feel safe. 

Once you’ve arrived at your apartment, you feel disappointment brew in your chest. “This is my place,” you mumble. “Thank you for helping me. For the first time in my life I feel…light.”

He smiles at you. “Can I give you my number? In case a curse like this ever bothers you again. All you have to do is call and I’ll be there for you.”

You agree easily, because you want to see him again, even if it’s in a less than ideal circumstance. You pass your phone to him, peering over his shoulder as he types his name into your phone. He pauses his typing to smile over at you, and it makes you flustered enough to turn away.

He laughs. “Aw, sorry, sugarplum. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Could I get a name to match that pretty face of yours?”

You tell him your name, only considering a moment later that you probably shouldn’t give your name out to a stranger so easily. But you feel comfortable around him, and you find yourself trusting—you glance down at the contact name he’d set for himself—Satoru. You trust Satoru.

You turn to go inside your apartment building, but Satoru calls your name and you turn back, a look of concern flickering over your face.

He rubs his hand against the back of his neck. He looks almost…shy? “You can use my number, uh, even if there’s no curse. Do whatever you want with it, actually. I’m always available to talk. If you have questions about all of this, of course.”

The furrow in your brow eases and you smile and thank him again. You wave your phone in the air briefly. “I’m sure I’ll find something useful to do with this.”

And before you head back inside your apartment, you glance behind you almost instinctively. But there’s no more monster to worry about. The only thing behind you is your strange savior. You promise yourself that you’ll take him up on his offer, as many times as he’ll have you.

[velvetvexations]

Can confirm I've been on here for years now and before Gamer Gate and then the rebirth of Terfism happened the widely accepted feminist talking point was that men suffer under the patriarchy and how we need to talk about that because one of the fastest ways to get cis men on our side was to show them we were already on their side!

I remeber posts with hundreds of thousands of notes talking about how men are assumed to be worse caregivers than women to the point that in custody battles even if the mother is beyond a shadow of a doubt the worst abusive mess ever and the dad is the embodiment of a perfect parent the kids will end up with the mom. It doesn't even matter if the dad says he wants the kids and the mom says she doesn't, the women still gets assumed to be the better caretaker!! This is misogyny effecting men!!

And I know MRAs are terrible but I remember a video going around talking about their recruitment points, like how more men die doing dangerous jobs and the draft or men getting no help when they've been abused by women and being assumed to be violent predators even when they haven't done anything and like yeah, they 100% came to the wrong conclusions about what causes the problems and what the solutions are bcs it's easier to act like women are the problem, but those problems as they were introduced in the early 2010s were actual problems feminism is trying to address, and if these men could see that we are fighting the same fights and join US we'd be stronger. There was a prominent internet feminist who got full on red pilled just by listening to men tell her about their real actual problems, and the time they pulled the rug out on blaming women it was too late, she was convinced, because yeah women aren't the real problem at the root of men's issues they do HAVE ISSUES. The trick is that they just need to tackle the patriarchy, not women. I also saw stuff that legit talked about how to recruit men by pointing out how badly the patriarchy "serves" them!! (GamerGate quickly ruined any and all salient points that existed in the MRA movement bcs the internet is a feedback loop and anger is easy/fun sadly but yeah I feel like it's weird to act like they were always wrong no matter what when they at least did point out real problems.)

And like RBG partially made her name in the courts defending a CIS MAN on the basis that he was being discriminated in a way a CIS WOMAN would not have been, and the ruling allowed for insane amounts of progress for women. A man not being allowed a tax credit to hire a nurse for his bedridden mother is one of the first things that challenged discrimination on the basis of sex in America. But sure men ONLY gain benefits from the patriarchy. It NEVER hurts them too!! And helping them won't benefit us!!! Making them our allies is silly they should all shut up 🙄

Hell back in the 2010s I still remember seeing trans men talk about how horrible and alienating it was for all of their female friends and family to suddenly start acting like they were a threat, and not just pointing out the inherent transphobia, the guy went on to talk about that they finally get why cis men are the way they are, they suffer from systemic emotional neglect. And yeah that obviously does not mean women owe them emotional avaliablity and sex, but maybe the patriarchy telling men to be big tuff guys who never hug or cry or like anything even a little girly HURTS THEM and is a direct cause of a LOT of the problems we're dealing with rn!!! There was a whole study about how widows tend to live a lot longer after their husbands because they have friends and family to lean on and weren't taught to suppress their emotions, meanwhile widowers tend to die VERY quickly after their wives because they no longer have someone who it's okay for them to be open and emotional around, and not having someone you can do that with KILLS PEOPLE. People were saying again, this does not mean women HAVE to take on all their problems, but maybe that we need to stop assuming men don't need emotional support and teach our sons to not be afraid of being ulnerable, honest people because systemic emotional neglect IS BAD FOR YOU ACTUALLY.

These were ACTUAL conversations that swept this damn site. This was the direction feminism was going in. We were on the cusp of a beautiful age of 4th wave feminism with the knowledge that the patriarchy seves no one well and free the nipple and no gender segregated bathrooms and sports, and now just pointing out that we need to maybe understand the ways men struggle under the patriarchy if we've ever going to have them join and help us build a better world gets my inbox flooded with both terfs and so called progressive feminists calling me a gender traitor for being willing to admit men arent the source of all the world's ills and WE NEED THEM ON OUR FUCKING SIDE. I used to proudly call myself a 4th wave feminist back when people still claimed to be of the 3rd, and now idk what I even am. A bell hooks and leslie finberg feminist I guess, since they actually seemed to get it.

Yeesh. Anyway sorry that got heated. This has just ruined my brain. I do not understand where tf we went wrong, bcs hell back in the day we also pointed out how TERFs were wrong to want men and people they perceive as men and those "tainted" by men put to death for existing so they could build their stupid white supremacist wombyn utopia. We KNEW hating men just for being men was wrong and regressive and hurt maringalized men and did NOTHONG to push feminism forward. We talked about the issues that men face and how to raise our sons to be better. But idk I guess Gamer Gate and the Incel movement took off right as TREFs figured out the whole ace and truscum discourse thing wasn't working and they just needed to doctor their arguments against men better and radical feminism took off and this entire site regressed 1000 years and thinks trans men of all people are just as bad as cis men and trans women have a monopoly on an entire axis of oppression like?????

And I'm not putting the blame squarely on anyone aside from the radfems who started this shit but it does NOT surprise me that we are seeing a massive resurgence of biphobic, transmedicalism, and aphobia since half the queer discourse I see these days is anti-transandrophpbia assholes just word for word repeating the kind of blatant aphobia and truscumery that would have gotten you suplexed off the face of the earth in the 2010s with the identities swapped. Just word for word monosexist aphobic shit. Legit is giving me flashbacks, it's insane.

I have never in my life been more disappointed in my community of queer feminists. This is masks all over again. Like is this how kids who grew up evangelical feel when they realized actually the adults didn't mean literally love all your neighbors silly just the Correct ones?? I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. What the hell happened to us.

Thank you for writing all this anon, you put enough work in it I'm gonna toss it in the tags, I think it deserves to be seen. <3

The problem with MRAs was never that they believed men had problems too, but that they used certain things - like their disadvantage in custody hearings, for instance - as a cudgel in a malicious crusade against a target they hated anyway for not fucking them. Now with as quick as people are to say things like "what, are you saying androphobia exists too?????" it feels as though we've completely forgotten the actual reason we ever hated MRAs to begin with.

It's the same with the dating article where the most basic possible interactions between two adults mutually seeking a hook-up were taken to be pick-up artistry.

[daintylovers]

Moments in Love

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

A/N: based off of a request from @beyond-the-stars-fairy

"Hey, can I request a season one stiles falling in love with the reader!"

ur wish is my command <3

Summary: Glimpses of Stiles falling in love with you, throughout Season One.

1.

If anyone were to ask Stiles who the girl of his dreams was, he would say you in a heartbeat. It felt like you had always been the one for him. An unrealistic fantasy that every teenage boy has. Except at this stage, most of his peers were moving on to more attainable girls. Not Stiles though, never Stiles. You could hit him with your car and he would thank you for it, the lovesick idiot. It didn't help either that you were oh-so-sweet to him. You guys weren't friends, more like acquaintances. But in his dreams, you were more than anything he could imagine.

So, even though Scott had just shown him a nasty "wolf" bite, his attention was stuck on you as you waltzed up the school's front steps. He called out your name in greeting and was pleasantly met with a smile and a wave.

Scott, did you see that. I mean we're practically set up for a slow-burn love affair. I swear to you, one day, she will be my wife.

Stiles, can you focus on something other than her for like five seconds! Jesus man, I show you I got bit by a freaking wolf last night because of you, and you don't bat an eye. But she wiggles her fingers and it's like your brain is fried. Get a grip.

The spaz manages to do as Scott says, until later that day he spots the new girl hanging around his girl. By the way, his best friend is looking at the new girl, he can tell that Scott is just as screwed as he is. Serves him right, it's time for someone else to feel the way he feels all the time.

Stiles learns that her name is Allison and remembers the class they share together. He won't lie, she's pretty, of course she is. But she's nothing compared to you in his eyes. Seeing the pair of you talking and giggling like long-lost friends from across the hall only makes his heart hammer harder. Even Scott comments about how Stiles' heart is seriously racing against his chest. Almost like Scott could actually hear it? Weird, but whatever, just means that Stiles has more than homework to do tonight.

But the newfound discovery about his best friend takes a toll on Stiles's mind, suddenly finds himself obsessed over werewolf lore rather than the smell of your shampoo when you sit next to him in math.

Stiles, are you listening?

Fuck, he was totally ignoring you. He obviously didn't do it on purpose, but what if you thought he was.

Stilessssssss, hellooooooo

Your fingers waving in front of his eyes is what causes him to come back to the land of the conscious.

Yes, sorry, yes, I am totally listening 100%.

Really? Then, what did I say?

You said, Stiles, hello in a way that a snake would if they were real. Like a cartoon snake with really good-smelling hair.

God, was he cursed to be the most awkward boy alive or something.

You aren't wrong, but you aren't fooling me Stilinski. I was very kind-hearted and I know you weren't listening. Guess I'll have to ask someone else.

No! No, don't ask someone else. I'm sorry. I promise I am paying attention now.

Good, because I won't ask again. Are you doing anything this weekend?

Was he dreaming? He had to have been dreaming.

No-no, nope, nothing. Yep, I am totally doing nothing this weekend by myself. Why do you ask?

I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me? Lydia has Jackson, and Allison is going with Scott. So I figured we could go together since our friends are coupled up.

And just when he thought his heart might explode, you added, Not as a date or anything. I just don't want to show up alone, you know. Plus, you shouldn't have to show up alone. We can show up alone together!

Yeah, that's great. Totally not soul-crushing to hear. God, you probably thought he was into boys. Which is fine, of course, Stiles was anything but homophobic. Yet, it's a tough spot to be in when the girl of your straight(?) male dreams thinks you swing for the other team.

Yeah, I would love to. Do you need a ride or something?

Which is how he arrived to now, driving with you in his passenger seat. Thank god it wasn't awkward. Sure, the small talk could have been better, but he could tell you were nervous. He just didn't know why. He knew why he was nervous, you were fucking gorgeous. And his best friend was surely going to kill your new friend tonight, but whatever. Live in the moment is what everyone says. And if he could, Stiles would stay in this moment forever. Getting to peek over at you softly singing along to the radio, windows down, the streetlights hitting you just enough to make you look like a dream.

Arriving at the party, you guys immediately got drinks and went to say your hello's. Turns out, you knew a lot more people than he did. But you never let him leave your side, always ready to introduce him to whoever you were talking to.

After you had finished, you suggested beer pong. Stiles opted out on condition of driving you home safely but promised to watch from the sidelines. So you were partnered up with some other guy, and Stiles could feel his envy choking him.

Even though you smiled at him when you would score, Stiles's stomach was sick at the thoughts he was having. You looked good with him, fit in with him. Self-loathing was a bitch.

Yet, when you won, you didn't run to the other guy's arms and hug him. No, it was Stiles who received your affections as if he had helped any. The boy was quick to catch you as you catapulted yourself into his arms. You were saying something to him, but he was focused on the way you fit in his arms.

You pulled away quicker than he hoped but stayed at arm's length. Which is where he could smell the alcohol on your breath, and his illusion was shattered once more. You were only clinging to him because of what was in your system.

With your wide eyes staring at him and the little puffs of air leaving your nose, Stiles had to force himself to look elsewhere. Anywhere else. Cause if he didn't, he was sure to kiss you. And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

This is when he spotted Scott tearing himself away from Allison, and rushing outside. Stiles turned his attention back to you and fought every muscle in his body not to kiss you.

I've got to go, I'll be right back.

Then he left because he knew that if he stayed and explained, someone might die.

What he didn't know, is that you were quick to follow him. The guy was your ride home after all.

As Stiles searched for Scott, he noticed Allison getting into Derek's car. This is when you practically slammed into his back, not realizing he had come to a stop.

Stiles jerked forward a little not prepared for your momentum, and then looked to see who had just body-slammed him.

Where is she going?

Even in your drunken stupor, your protectiveness for your friends was overpowering.

I don't know, but I have to go find Scott. Can you get a ride with someone else?

No.

Then you marched yourself to his car, him following behind like a puppy dog.

I'm coming with you because, after Scott's, you're taking me to Allison's to see if she's okay. No teenager has that nice of a car unless it's Jackson.

Fair enough.

Your persistence gave him hope that one day, he could be someone that you would be protective over. Maybe being friends with you wasn't the worst thing in the world. Because then, at least, you would love him in some capacity.

2.

The next few days after the party had been a bit of a blur for Stiles. Allison had been alright after all, and you had ended up staying at her house for the night. Stiles had received a text from you a few hours after he found Scott, saying thanks for the night- even if I was more than a little drunk and bossy.

From that point on, you guys texted a little here and there each day. It was a little slice of heaven away from the supernatural drama that had brutally invaded his peace of mind.

For example, Scott had convinced himself this morning that he had practically eaten Allison alive last night. Turns out, Allison was safe, but Scott had definitely eaten someone alive, judged by the amount of blood the bus had contained.

Stiles had been ready to discuss the details he had gathered through the day with Scott during lunch. But his plans were stopped when someone who wasn't Scott sat down at the table. In fact, a lot of people who weren't Scott had started sitting down.

It wasn't until you sat down next to him that Stiles decided he wasn't irritated at the intrusion. This was actually a really great intrusion.

Did you hear they found out who the body was? It was this old bus driver. The police think it was an animal attack again. Has your dad said anything?

No, I haven't asked him yet. But, I'll tell you if he says anything worse than an animal attack.

God, could you imagine being the bus driver. The fear he must have felt? I stopped going for walks in the woods because I didn't want to have a bite taken out of me. And now it's happening at school? What's next, the movie store?

It's probably for the best that you stopped going into the woods. Dangerous stuff out there. If you're really that bored, at least bring someone with you.

Are you volunteering, Stilinski?

Then, someone interrupted his tranquility, Hey lovebirds, are you in or are you out?

Stiles felt his whole body turn red looking at you, he could see your cheeks start to flush at the implication.

Fuck off Jackson- what are you even talking about?

Thank god you said something in response because Stiles was sure his voice would have cracked.

Me, Lydia, Allison, and her new little friend are going bowling. Are you and your new little friend coming? Or will I be forced to play with people who suck at bowling?

You turned your head back to Stiles, bowling? He shook his head, he would not fall into the same ploy that Scott had landed himself into.

Nah, Stiles and I are going to just work on homework. Thanks though, think of me when someone else kicks your ass, Jackson.

Jackson gave you a fake laugh before going back to his original conversation. This time, Stiles and you were listening, not wanting to be caught. The bell rang shortly after, and Stiles was eager to get Scott alone. But you had other ideas.

Stiles, wait up!

Stiles waited up, as you caught up to him.

Since our friends are going bowling, do you actually want to hang out? Be alone together type of thing again? We could hang out at your house and I'll bring snacks!

Yep, being friends with you was definitely better than nothing.

Of course, Stiles said yes, which is how he ended up with you falling asleep on his shoulder. You had let him pick the movie, shoving homework aside. Naturally, he had picked Star Wars, after you had said you hadn't seen any of them. The two of you had already been hanging out since 4pm, so when he put on the movie at 9pm, he knew there was a chance that you might get tired.

But there's that saying, that people only sleep, like truly sleep, when they feel safe. Seeing the soft rise and fall of your chest, your body unconsciously seeking out the heat from his body, had Stiles feel at peace for the first time since this shit had all started. His chest warmed at the thought that you trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him.

So he shut off his laptop and debated on waking you, but he could feel the lack of sleep on his part rapidly catching up to him. A nap wouldn't hurt. He could set an alarm for thirty minutes and then wake you up to go home. It wouldn't be totally weird if he fell asleep next to you, right? His eyes made up his mind, as his eyelids became heavier and heavier the longer he had this internal debate with himself. Just thirty minutes to be selfish and envision a life where this was every day, and then he would be fine.

3.

Thirty minutes turned into a lot longer than thirty minutes, the two of you waking up to being tangled in the arms of the other. Stiles being Stiles, made it awkward by trying to not make it awkward. But you handle it like a champ, much to Stiles's liking.

Oh my god, stop freaking out Stilinski. I sleep with all my friends. this just means your status has risen from schoolmate to friend level three.

Yeah, being your friend is 100% better than nothing. Especially if that first part was true.

After Stiles calmed down, you guys got dressed and went out for breakfast.

Stiles should have known that something this great would only be followed by literal horrors. For starters, everyone's least favorite werewolf, Derek, decided to involve Scott and him in his pity party bullet hole wound. Stiles was sure that he would never forget the vision of holding a bone saw and being prepared to cut a guy's arm off. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that moment.

You, however, would have the same type of moment a few days later, at the movie store. You had been searching for a new movie for movie night with Stiles. Hanging out with him had become your own personal brand of heroin, soaking up the minutes like a sponge.

It was in the romance aisle, that you heard a familiar voice calling out for help.

The Notebook? Really Jackson, I never thought you were a sentimental type of guy.

Jackson spotted you in the aisle adjacent, coming up to look with you.

Trust me, I'm not. It's for Lydia.

For some reason, this store had every movie but The Notebook. And there was not another soul around. It was after that realization, that goosebumps rose on your arms. Something was wrong.

The lights started to flicker and Jackson held out his arm, to keep you behind him. He felt it too.

But you guys couldn't just stand there, so you swerved and started walking in front of him. Turning the corner, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Someone else had been here, in with you guys. But from the way his body was crumpled like a piece of paper, he wasn't really here with you guys anymore.

You felt Jackson come up behind you and let out a gasp. Turning to face him, you said, We gotta leave. Like now.

Jackson turned around, ready to take the lead, when a monstrous figure emerged out of the very aisle we had just been in.

The size of its body was a quick indicator that this thing was definitely not human. But, way too beefed up to be any animal you knew of. Jackson started taking tiny steps back. Maybe the thing was blind and hadn't spotted you yet.

You guys quickly made your way into a different aisle, with you holding a hand over your mouth to silence your breathing. Jackson made sure that this time you wouldn't sneak around him, his chest and arm locking you in place, with his head turned around to keep a lookout.

The thing completely walks past you guys, and for a second you believe that it really might be blind. But then the shelves start a domino chain and Jackson only has a split second to decide whether he'll save you or himself.

The former jackass, shoves you out of the aisle, as the shelf next to you guys collapses on top of him, crushing his legs.

Your head swerves around, trying to locate the beast, but you come up empty. It wasn't blind, it was playing with you guys. The way a child plays with its food. You stand and bend down ready to try and lift the shelf off Jackson.

Stop, stop, stop, he whispers, Just go. I'll be okay, but you won't. Go.

Shut up, you whisper back, I'm not leaving you.

It's then that a growl erupts through the air. The creature has come back to finish you guys off. Out of fear, you try even harder to lift the shelf as the animal slowly starts to approach you guys.

Fuck, fuck fuck, you chant, the furniture not budging.

With a final tug, you stumble back and fall onto the floor. This is where you die, on a dirty floor while your friend watches, probably also about to die.

But the creature does the strangest thing. It walks over to Jackson, paying you no mind as your instincts take over and you scramble a bit away. It digs its claws into Jackson next and the boy lets out a guttural scream, both out of terror and pain. The beast removes its claws and turns to face you.

Quick as lightning, it's crowding up your space, breathing its hot breath on your face. Its eyes are red as red can be, almost glowing with intensity. Its coarse hair tickles your neck, as it leans down, smelling you like a dog. It looks back at you and you swear your heart stops. It just stares at you and you stop breathing.

Then it stands up straight, breaks into a run/crawl, and bursts through the glass doors.

You're out of it until the ambulance arrives. But even then you can't fully decipher their questions. It isn't until you see Sheriff Stilinski talking to Jackson, that your mind sobers up a bit. The man walks up to you, telling the paramedics to check on Jackson one last time.

Are you alright sweetheart?

With Stiles and your newfound friendship, you've met Sheriff Stilinski more than enough times to have formed a little bond with him. He likes you, thinks you're great for his son, and tells you every chance he gets, despite Stiles' complaining.

You don't even get the chance to answer his question, because his son starts causing a frenzy in the crowd. Of course, Stiles was there. Thank god Stiles was here.

The boy bursts forward, eager to see his dad, but falters when he notices your shriveled form sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Are you alright? Is she alright?

I'm okay Stiles, just a little shaken.

Thank god, he says, then goes to hug you, overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of something harming you.

But he stops himself when he sees you flinch. Your eyes drop to your hands sitting in your lap and guilt consumes you.

Stiles, once they do a final check on her, can you take her home?

Of course Dad. See you at home.

The sheriff shares the sentiment and then walks off, leaving you and the boy alone.

What happened there? he questions softly, afraid to scare you off.

You won't believe me.

When he doesn't respond, you look up at him. His head is tilted, offering you a chance to explain even if it's absurd. It's when he clutches your hand and flips it over to trace your palm, that you tell him. And you tell him everything, even the part about how the attacker was not human.

He lets you finish, and when you do, you look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

Stiles, I thought I was gonna die. I should have died.

A tear rolls down your cheeks and he tries to hug you again. This time you accept it, and start weeping into his chest. He rubs up and down your back with one hand, the other cupping the back of your head.

It's okay, it's okay. You're fine, just a little shaken like you said. You just need some rest. Let me take you home.

He signals for the EMTs to check you one last time before he gets the okay.

It isn't until you're halfway home that you realize, he didn't say if he believed you or not.

Do you think I'm crazy?

And it's because he loves you, that he avoids the question.

I think you just need some sleep.

You take that as a neon sign saying yes you are completely crazy, and keep your mouth shut the rest of the ride. When you arrive at your house, you thank him for the ride and then quickly leave to go inside.

Stiles thinks nothing of it. Why would you want to stay and chat after something like that? In fact, he's proud of himself for dodging your question, cause he thinks he's spared you from any harm.

He texts you before he goes to bed, and wakes up to nothing from you. No biggie, you're probably still asleep.

4.

Monday rolls around, and you haven't responded to any of his texts. And trust me, he has sent a lot of texts. A concerning amount. He's holding on to hope that you're just waiting to say something to him in school, but you don't show up.

He isn't your boyfriend or anything, so he doesn't show up to your house.

Until Tuesday comes and you still haven't responded and you still aren't at school.

As first period starts, he realizes that everybody but him is not at school. What the fuck? So he takes that as his sign to fake sick and also not be at school.

The excuse worked well enough with the nurse, who waved him off with a note for the day like she was giving them out like candy. Whatever, that worked for him.

He tried calling Scott first, which went to voicemail. He wasn't close enough with Allison so he wouldn't call her. Plus he had a feeling that the two lovebirds were with each other anyway. He didn't have Lydia's number and doubted Jackson would give a shit if Stiles checked in.

That just left you. You who had been avoiding him for days. For someone so intelligent, he couldn't figure out what had happened between you guys. Was this your way of shoving him aside, bored already?

Stiles wasn't a quitter though, so he tried calling, but to no avail.

Fine, be that way. If you won't answer, he'll make a house call. With his nerves on fire, he made it to your house quicker than he should have. Your car was in the driveway and so was another car. Probably your mom's. At least he knew you were home.

He parked and went to knock on your door. Your mom answered a minute later, greeting the boy with a polite smile. He hadn't met your parents yet. You had chosen his place as the hangout spot, so it just hadn't happened.

Hi, I'm Stiles, a friend of your daughters. I was just coming by to check on her. May I come in?

Your mom let him in, telling him that she would go see if you're awake first. They had you on meds for the shock, real hard stuff.

But what your mom didn't know, is that you hadn't been taking them. Just hiding them in your cheek until you could spit them out. You weren't crazy. That thing wasn't a goddamn mountain lion and screw everyone who kept trying to tell you it was. You knew what you saw.

Instead, during the hours you were supposed to be knocked out, you spent researching everything you could about the creature. With only a description, it wasn't easy at first. But after putting some papers together, you began to connect the dots. All of the deaths blamed on animal attacks, Stiles telling you to stay out of the woods, using Scott's regular wolf bite as an example, the other weird shit you had seen since living in beacon hills, everything was adding up.

Your mom knocked on your door and you hid your laptop under the covers, lying down and closing your eyes. She came in after a moment and gently shook you.

Fluttering your eyes open, you made your voice raspy, asking her what?

You have a friend here to visit you, his name is Stiles. Do you want him to come up, or should I tell him a different time might work better?

A flurry of emotions clouded your head. Of course, you wanted to see him. You missed him, even though it had only been a few days. But he wasn't telling you something, you couldn't trust him until you got your evidence that you weren't crazy. If you didn't have proof, he would shut you down like last time.

Can you tell him another time, please? I don't feel too well.

Your mom obliged, leaving you alone again.

Stiles' leg hadn't stopped shaking. He was nervous like how he used to be around you. You were friends now though, he reasoned, he shouldn't be so nervous.

Seeing your mom come down the stairs, he burst out of the chair. At his eager reaction, your mom gave him a pity smile, and he knew.

She's still out of it. A different time would work better, if you want I can give you her number so you guys can text.

He visibly deflated, No, it's okay. I have her number so I'll keep in touch. Thank you.

The ball was in your court, and he had never felt sicker with want.

5.

You woke up from your nap and checked your messages immediately. Just because you weren't responding to Stiles, didn't mean you weren't reading them.

But instead, your phone was barren aside from one text from Scott. That was weird considering you guys weren't super close or anything.

Opening it, you felt your heart drop.

Stiles is in danger. You need to get to the school, the creature is back. Please help him.

All common sense went out the window as you read those first words, Stiles is in danger.

You didn't question how Scott knew about the creature to why he wanted you specifically to save his best friend. Or even why at the school? The only thing in your head that had alarms going off was Stiles being in danger.

You throw a sweater over your shirt and put on some shoes. Attire really was the least of your concerns right now. Thankfully your parents were asleep, so you snuck out the door and drove to the school.

You arrived at the same time another familiar car did.

Jackson, what are you doing here? You said, after getting out of the car.

Allison answered, I got a text from Scott telling me to meet him here. We were all going on a double date again. But he's like an hour late.

This was a setup, and you guys were screwed.

You guys have to get out of here. I got a text from Scott too, saying Stiles was in danger. But it's not real. Jackson, it's that thing.

Allison jumped in before Jackson could, What thing? Also no way are we leaving you here, Let's just investigate together, Jackson and Lydia stay out here, and if we aren't back in 15 minutes, call the police.

How could you explain to the girl that if she went in there a possible werewolf would eat her alive. And that her boyfriend and his best friend have also probably been already eaten alive. You couldn't. But Allison wasn't one to take no for an answer, and you weren't about to leave with them. So you compromised.

Call the police in ten if we aren't out. You told Jackson, and then began walking with Allison up the steps.

The school was dark and cold. We made our way to the pools before our silence was interrupted. Allison's phone went off, and it was Scott who was calling.

She looked to you, as if for permission, and you just nodded your head, eager to see if Scott was actually behind the phone call or if it was something else.

They have their little chat as you stalk away from the girl, walking on the other side of the pool.

Hey! He said to get to the lobby now, and he sounded really worried.

You guys made your way to the lobby and were greeted by Scott playing his own game of 20 questions.

But you stopped listening when you saw Stiles move from behind Scott. He rushed to you, gripping your shoulders.

What are you doing here? She didn't say you were with her?

You shrugged his hands off, He asked us to be here. but gave very different reasoning to both of us.

Stiles was hurt by your action but covered it up with more questions. Who Scott? What do you mean he asked you to be here? What did he say?

Jesus, Stiles slow down. You said, shoving your phone at him. he swiped it immediately and read the message that his best friend definitely did not send.

He didn't send this.

Obviously, you deadpanned.

Listen, you need to leave now. You need to drive to the station and get my dad. Tell him I'm in trouble at the school.

What the fuck? No, you tell him.

And then on second thought, you added, I know you know who sent this text. What the fuck is going on here? Is it connected with the werewolf?

Stiles' eyes almost popped out of his skull at your closing comment. How did you know?

As for you, you finally got your confirmation. You weren't crazy after all. Now why was he hiding it from you?

Wait- why was he always at the wrong place at the right time? No way that was a coincidence.

Was Stiles the fucking werewolf?

You weren't about to out him as a supernatural creature. Because what if you did and then he killed the other in front of you as some sort of bonding ritual before turning you? A week ago you would have begged to be sent to a therapist for having thoughts like this. But now? It was so unlikely as it should have been.

All you said was, I knew it.

He was quick with a reply, You don't know anything. Stop it.

I knew it, you laughed a little. I fucking knew it, I'm not crazy.

You don't know it. You're crazy, bat shit insane, please stop. His commands turned to begging at the end. He really didn't want you to know.

You guys were cut short when Lydia and Jackson burst through the doors. But even they were cut short when a loud thump came from the roof.

Soley out of fear, you moved closer to Stiles, and he wrapped a palm around your wrist.

You watch as Stiles and Scott share a look, then Scott yells, RUN!

Stiles practically yanks you behind him and you barely make it up the stairs before the ceiling collapses. You turn your head to look down and see it.

An odd mix of relief and terror fills you. It isn't Stiles, which is very good. But it is going to kill you this time, which is very bad.

We make it to the cafeteria and Stiles pulls me into a corner while Scott and Jackson bolt the doors. Then everyone starts moving chairs to barricade the door. You go to help, eager to not be eaten, when Stiles, whose hand is still clenching your wrist pulls you back. You turn, sending him a questioning glance, and he jerks his head to the twenty-foot wall of windows.

Stiles tries to get everyone's attention, yet no one listens to him. Irritated and beyond terrified you shout, HEY!

That gets everyone's attention, which allows Stiles to speak.

He informs the group of the windows and Allison cracks, Can someone please tell me what's going on here because I'm really scared. What is happening?

Scott and Stiles share another look. And even though the question was directed at Scott, Stiles answers, Somebody killed the janitor.

What is he talking about Scott? Is this a joke? Allison tries.

Who killed him? You questioned, waiting to see if the boys will give up the werewolf.

Scott panics at all the attention, everyone's eyes waiting on him. I don't know alright. But whoever it is, they are going to kill us too.

Why is he protecting the werewolf, you think? Then another thought hits you, Is Scott the werewolf? Is that why it didn't kill you, why he sent the text saying Stiles was in danger? Had he been planning to kill us all and then second-guessed it? But that couldn't be it because Scott was in here now. Fuck man.

One question still remained, Why were both boys protecting the werewolf identity?

Who is it? You asked, and Stiles knew you weren't talking about the alleged killer. You were smart and he loved it, but now was not the time to be smart.

No one answers, so Allison tries again.

It's then that Scott says, It's Derek. Derek Hale.

I look to Stiles who looks at Scott like he's the stupidest person alive. It's not Derek. Scott's a liar.

Everyone starts questioning and Scott continues, I saw him, alright. Derek killed all those people. Starting with his own sister. It's been Derek the whole time. He's here, and if we don't get out now, he will kill us too.

Call the cops, Jackson demands.

Stiles snaps out of his stupor, No.

If it really was Derek, Stiles would have no problem with his dad and a shooting team hunting him down. It's not Derek. Or maybe it is, but Dereks not fully Derek. You know?

Stiles and Jackson argue as you try and unravel the mystery. It isn't until Lydia gets hung up on that you tune back in.

Why does Derek want to kill us specifically? You question. Just a few days ago, you had no clue about anything. Content to believe it was all animal attacks. So why would he be going after you now?

Allison seconds your question and adds a few more, which prompts Scott to yell in anxiety. The girl sulks away, opting to not ask any more questions for fear of his reaction.

Scotts goes to a corner and Stiles moves to follow him. You stray not too far, eager to hear their conversation.

Don't you want to see if Allison is alright? Scott's kinda a dick, and you probably don't want to hear me scold him. Stiles tries.

She's a big girl, she can handle herself.

Please, he tries again.

No. You say and stand right next to Scott. The aforementioned boy sends you a curious glance.

If looks could kill, Stiles might have had you dead. All he was trying to do was protect you, and you were being a brat about it. You didn't know anything, but if you wanted to know so badly, then you would.

First off, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.

Scott's eyes widen and his best friend outs him as a liar in front of you.

Stiles continues, Secondly, she knows so don't give me that look. I don't know how she knows but she knows alright.

Scott looks to you for confirmation, I know.

Fine, he starts, I didn't know what else to do plus, he's dead so it doesn't really matter. Then he turned his attention solely to you, I just bit her head off didn't I?

You look to Stiles in disbelief, who just sighs in disappointment.

Scott, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just apologize later. You try.

Stiles, who had enough goes, Bigger issues at had people, like how are we not going to die?

A thought strikes you, But if it wanted us dead, we would be dead already. It wants something else. It's like when it didn't kill Jackson or me even though we were very killable.

So what, it wants to eat us at the same time?

Scott jumps in, No- Derek said it wants revenge.

You start, Revenge against what? Why lure me and Allison here? I know I didn't do anything to cause something like this.

Both boys have the same thought at the same time, Allison's family.

Allison's family? What the fuck did they have to do with you?

Jackson breaks our circle, New plan asshats. Stiles calls his useless dad and he comes down here with a bunch of guns.

Stiles is quick to shut that idea down, but Scott prevails, Stiles, you might have to tell him.

No way, I am not watching him get eaten alive. It's bad enough she's here, and he points to you, I won't lose them both.

Jackson shoves Scott to the side and tries to yank Stiles's phone out of his hands. Stiles is quick on the recoil, knocking Jackson's jaw back.

But it was just for show, as Stiles tries to call his dad himself. He gets voicemail and it sinks in that you might be dead in the water.

Banging erupts from the doors, both Scott and Stiles move to be in front of you, taking slow steps back to herd the rest of the group. You reach out to grab Stiles's hand, which rests behind his back, and he grips yours in response.

Our only option is up, Stiles says.

You answer, Up is better than here.

Screws start falling out of place and your heart beats at the tempo of the banging. That was the cue for everyone to hall ass upstairs, and as you guys make it, the creature breaks down the doors. The chairs in the way slow him down and you thank your idiot friends for placing them there.

You run into the nearest classroom, locking the door as if the werewolf couldn't just rip the door off its hinges. Everyone tries to slow their breathing when a figure ghosts by the frosted glass. Out of instinct, Stiles crowds your space, holding you against him. The figure stays for a beta too long before leaving. It knows you're here. What the fuck.

You turn in Stiles's arms to stare up at him, and he just sighs, wishing this nightmare would end already.

You feel the same and leave his warm embrace to search for a way out, Could we unlock this and leave?

Stiles whispers, It's a deadbolt.

The janitor will have it though, you reason.

His body will have it. No way.

I can get it, Scott announces. He comes closer to us, I can find him by scent. By blood.

Scott is a werewolf. But not the werewolf. Does that mean Stiles is one too?

Scott decides for himself, I'm getting those keys.

It's Allison who says what's on everyone's minds, Are you kidding? You can't go out there unarmed.

Scott picks up a ruler and thankfully Allison doesn't slap him upside the head. Looking around, you realize which classroom you're inside.

He won't be unarmed, you say making a move to the cabinet. You start pulling out supplies and Jackson isn't amused.

What are you gonna do? Throw acid on him?

Lydia answers, Yes, that's exactly what he's gonna do. Sort of. There's everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.

Stiles stares, dumbfounded, while you and Lydia work on the concoction. Jackson tries to help, but you don't let him, eager to finish yourself.

In record time, you hand Scott the bottle, sending him off with a thank you. He is risking his life after all, even if he's a werewolf. He smiles in appreciation and Allison steps in, not prepared to see him die.

Scott, just stop. Do you remember when you told me you knew whether I was lying or not, that I had a tell? Well, you have one too and you've been lying this whole time.

You look to Stiles and he can feel the angst bubbling in his chest. You don't say anything and it makes him feel worse.

Scott looks to his best friend, in similar anguish, Lock the door behind me.

Allison pulls him in for a kiss and you look to Stiles yet again. For a split second, he envisions that it's you two in that scenario, that you're kissing him goodbye with all the passion you have. It helps that you stare back at him, but your face is cold.

You turn away, angling yourself out of his space, and go to sit with Allison.

Later on, after you've been saved by Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles catches up to you. He starts to open his mouth but you cut to the chase, Please don't. I don't want to hear any bullshit excuse.

I promise I won't try to dick you around right now, okay? But we have to talk about what happened there.

Do you want to talk about the werewolf who has almost killed me twice? That you knew was lurking around and didn't think to mention to me? Instead, just giving me cryptic messages about being safe and staying out of the woods?

Well- yeah, kinda. He loses his momentum.

I already know Stiles, I don't want to talk about it. Especially if Scotts is one of them. Do you realize that he could have killed us too? Why didn't you tell me? Why lie?

His momentum kicks back up Because I was trying to protect you? Are you kidding? If you knew it would only place you in more danger. You didn't have to know, everything was fine without you knowing. Now it's just more stress, another problem to add to the list.

That's what I am to you? Another problem to add to the list?

No- that's not-

No, whatever Stilinski. Consider me, not your problem anymore. I can take care of myself. And I promise to protect your friend's little reputation. Just stay the hell away from me.

And with that, you walked away, and for once, Stiles didn't try to follow you.

6.

It's Friday night, and Stiles wishes that he had followed you. Argued with you about your safety. At least then he would have had more time with you. The friendship that had been cultivated now turned to ash. He had tried texting the morning after. Nothing. He had tried talking to you in school. Nothing. It was like he didn't exist all over again.

And it was unbearable.

Stiles only had one solution, learned from years of living with his dad. Alcohol could solve any problem, albeit temporarily. And because of Scott's recent return to loser-ville, Stiles figured the boy would also need some liquid courage to get back on his feet.

After more than a few sips, (try half the bottle), he could safely say that he was feeling pretty damn good. As long as he didn't think of you. Which was hard. But doable.

Scott on the other hand had discovered that because of his supernatural abilities, alcohol had no effect. Bummer. But not Stiles' problem.

You also weren't Stiles' problem anymore.

Fuck, no, don't think about her, he told himself.

Dude, don't think about her alright. She's one girl in a fish of a million seas.

Scott just laughed at his drunken friend's antics, but Stiles was on a mission to cure himself and the other boy.

I'm serious alright. Fish are like girls and sometimes in the sea, you want a specific one. And she's everything, the perfect fish. So you go fishing in the fish sea. And you manage to catch her. It's not your fault if she hops out of your hands, you know. You just have to keep fishing and hope she comes back. I really want her back.

Scott punched Stiles in the arm, and the boy yelped like a dog, What the hell man? he whimpered.

You told me to hit you if you talked about her. Said the pain would clear your mind.

Right, yeah, Stiles nodded his head. It's just hard not to think about her. Or talk about her. I really miss her- OW. Being alone is way worse.

Scott agreed, saving his friend from another bruise-earning hit. Stiles definitely was worse without you.

7.

You really hadn't wanted to go dress shopping today. But Lydia had convinced you by saying it was a girl's day and that you had to get out of the house at some point.

She was annoying but she wasn't wrong.

So here you were, looking for dresses for a dance that you definitely wouldn't go to. Turning your head, you felt someone's gaze. Locking eyes with the one person in the entire world you didn't want to see, you cursed aloud.

The lady next to you looked appalled by the profanity and you squeezed by her, eager to get away.

Stiles felt his heart shatter all over again- you couldn't even look at him? Was it really over?

Ducking into a separate section, you found Allison who looked at you skeptically. You told her who you saw and she had the nerve to laugh at you. If you really didn't care about him, you wouldn't have run away.

First of all, Allison, you sneered, I didn't run. I walked politely away. And second of all, I don't care about liars. And he is a liar.

I wonder if he's going to the dance too? Allison questioned.

Probably not, he hates school functions.

Perfect, so you wouldn't mind me setting him up with Lydia as a little revenge right? Your jaw dropped.

Like I said Allison, you recovered yourself, I don't care about liars. Or who they go to this stupid winter formal with.

You did care. Like a stupid idiot, you cared very deeply about who stupid liars went to the goddamn winter formal with.

8.

It was the day of the stupid winter formal and Lydia and Allison had to drag you out of bed. They wouldn't take no for an answer. They also wouldn't take, get the fuck out and I'm going to punch you guys as answers either.

They dressed you up like a doll, despite your protest of having no date.

Don't worry sweetheart, I found you a date, Lydia replied.

You wished she wasn't so well prepared.

They finished and you had to admit, you looked fucking great. A sneaky part of you hoped Stiles would see you.

Shaking that thought off you drove Lydia to the dance, Allison having already been picked up by Jackson.

Arriving at the function, you had just parked when a gigantic blue jeep pulled up right next to you. You've got to be fucking kidding.

Stiles and you climbed out at the same time, yet the boy didn't even realize it was you until you made your way behind the cars.

Fuck, she's beautiful, was his first thought.

Your first thought was, this goddamn idiot can't park for shit.

You look really beautiful. And Lydia you also look pretty.

Lydia scoffed as you said, You can't park for shit.

Thank you, he said not taking a beat.

There he is, Lydia said, pointing to a tall guy in a tux. He had soft brown curls and a sheepish smile. He was cute, you had to admit.

You walked over to your date and introduced yourself, eager to leave Stiles' puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, I know who you are. I'm Issac. Issac Lahey.

Nice to meet you Issac, you said looking back to see if Stiles was watching, he was.

You hugged the boy for show and then suggested heading inside.

Issac was truly nice and you were having a fun time. But still, you couldn't help but search for Stiles in the crowd.

What happened between you guys, Issac asked, spooking you from your longing.

He lied to me about something serious.

Judging from the way that he also won't stop looking over here, I think it's safe to say he regrets it.

He's not looking over here, is he?

Every time you look away, he looks back. It's like you guys are agents or something. The push-pull is insane. My feelings should be hurt, but this is more painful to watch.

I should talk to him, shouldn't I?

Only if he apologizes the second you get over there, Issac laughed out.

I'm sorry, you deserve a lot better, you told him.

Maybe, but if I were you, I would do the same thing. Just make me a promise.

Anything.

When you see me in the halls, say hi. Or if we have a class where we can pick seats, and he isn't there, sit by me. We could be friends, and I really would like to be.

This time you hugged him because you wanted to, Of course, Issac. You really are nice and very cute. I'd love to be your friend, we can exchange numbers in class or something.

Yeah, I'd appreciate that.

With that, you made your way over to Stiles' who had just been abandoned by Lydia.

His eyes bulged as you made your way to stand in front of him. Get up.

He was quick to obey, but nervous to speak.

Wanna dance?

Yes, he breathed out, taking hold of your outstretched hand.

The pair of you walked onto the dance floor, getting into slow dance positioning. His arms were hesitant once you waist, as you encircled yours around his neck. You looked at each other for some time before he broke the silence.

I'm sorry for lying to you. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't even know if you wanted to know. I know you shouldn't have known. Knowing is what caused you to be at the school. God, you were in so much danger for nothing. I'm sorry.

As he spoke, Stiles' hands tightened their grip. Please forgive me. I miss you. I miss you so much. Can we please just be friends again?

Promise not to withhold any more vital secrets?

Pinkie swear, cross my heart, and hope to die.

I missed you too, you admit.

His smile grew wide, Really?

Of course, genius. You're pretty cool to be around.

The two of you dance for the rest of the song until Jackson breaks the moment. Have you guys seen Lydia?

That sends you three into a manhunt for the strawberry blonde. You luck out when you go searching outside, seeing her figure illuminated by the lacrosse field lights. You call out her name and she meets you halfway.

I thought I saw Jackson.

Jackson's looking for you, with Stiles and I. Come inside, it's freezing out here.

No, I swear I saw somebody.

It's then that you notice, that you see someone else too. Lurking beyond the treeline. Goosebumps find your arms once again, and you can't deny that their cause isn't the chill in the air. It's the werewolf. He's here.

Lydia, we have to get inside, now!

The two of you try to run, but the man/werewolf is in front of you in an instant. He grabs Lydia and slices her in the stomach before launching her body into the air. It slams onto the ground as you hear Stiles in the distance begging for you to run. But you can't. That's Lydia he might have killed.

Not carrying a weapon, you use what you have, your fist. It connects with the dude's cheek but he seems unfazed as his claws plung through your dress and into your abdomen.

Pain blossoms through your body, your muscles on fire while they are torn apart.

LET HER GO!

Stiles skids to a stop, just in time to catch your falling body as the werewolf lets go. Blood bubbles up, staining the dress and Stiles' hands as he tries to put pressure on the wound.

You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay, he chants like a prayer, more for himself than you. This was his worst nightmare.

Doesn't look that way to me, the werewolf remarks. Then he crouches down to be level with you two. He listens as both heartbeats skyrocket at his presence, fear radiating off them both. But different kinds of fear, both over the same reason, your life. This should be interesting. He takes his claws out again, and you gasp, moving closer into Stiles' arms. Where's Derek?

I don't know!

The werewolf hears Stiles' heart skip a beat, You're lying.

He moves to grab your throat. claws ready to puncture through your skin. Let's try this again, where is Derek?

Stiles panics, I'm not sure! I have an idea but it's not 100%.

Well, if you want your pretty little girlfriend to live, then you're going to take me to him. The werewolf hears the boy's heart skip a beat again.

Taunting him, he continues, You really like her, don't you. Better hurry up before she bleeds out on the field. Though she would make a pretty corpse, wouldn't she.

Stiles locks eyes with you, worried that if he leaves, you really will die on this field.

Don't worry, I'll be fine. Go. Please.

The boy reluctantly places you on the grass and goes to walk with Peter. It takes everything in him not to run back to you and stay with you. He can't even let himself look back at your crumpled form, because his resolve would shatter, and then you really would die.

You don't make a move to stand until after his body has disappeared into the trees. You manage to stand as Jackson calls out for you. You take a couple of steps before blacking out. This time, Stiles isn't there to catch you.

9.

Stiles instead finds you at the hospital, struggling to breathe on your own,, hooked up to various tubes and machines. As if his heart could take anymore.

It's then that his dad calls out his name. He only has time to face him before the older male slams him into the windows of your hospital room. The glass vibrates at the intensity, but Sherif Stilinski's voice booms louder, Where were you? What happened to these girls?

They were attacked Dad. I didn't do it, I swear. Come on, you know I would never hurt her like this.

And the Sheriff does know because you literally are the girl of his dreams. Always has been. The man calms down, wrapping his arms around his son, Are you alright?

I'm fine. Is she?

Whatever attacked her, cut her pretty deep. Same with Lydia, plus both girls are having an allergic reaction. Maybe venom in the claws but I'm not sure what kind of animal could have venom and wal on land to attack them this way.

Stiles can't tell his dad that it's not venom. Can't tell his dad that their bodies are rejected by the werewolf curse that's now been placed upon them. Can't tell his dad that now you're really fucked. Can't tell his dad that his best friend is missing. Wait?

Has Scott been by?

No, he's MIA as well.

Which means that Stiles is pretty sure he knows where to find the boy. Maybe he can convince Scott to stay a werewolf for your sake. Beg for your life. Anything to spare you from what Scott has been through. Anything for you.

When Peter asked if Stiles wanted the bite, he had a moment to think of how his life would change. He would have the strength to protect you, speed for lacrosse, and be able to tell if people were lying which could help his dad on cases. Yet, he still denied it.

Maybe he should have accepted. Would it be easier if you both were werewolves?

10.

After Peter had been successfully killed, Stiles wasted no time rushing back to the hospital. He wanted to be there for when you first opened your eyes. Hug you and tell you how sorry he was. Tell you how Peter had been killed so you would be safe.

But your body still was fighting, and his hopes were dwindling by the second. There was no cure. If you turned, you turned. But also if you didn't turn, you died.

The thought had him on the verge of tears, which began their descent down his cheeks when you squeezed his hand.

Looking to your eyes he saw them flutter open. He helped take the breathing machine off your face, so you could talk. Yet he jumped ahead, I'm so sorry.

It's okay Stiles, I'm fine, you croaked out, totally not sounding fine.

Do you feel magically healed? he asked through tears. You just gave him a look of confusion, so he continued, Do you feel fine as in you could run 10 laps?

Definitely not, why?

He cut you pretty deep.

I know, I can feel it, you deadpanned. What was he not saying?

You don't get it. You can turn into a werewolf from the bite, or if the claws go deep enough.

Your heart rate monitor spikes and Stiles feels his do the same.

Oh god, am I turning into a werewolf?

Stiles offers what little comfort he can, I'm not sure. But at least you'll have Scott and I to help you through it. You'll be alright.

That settles you slightly but leaves Stiles with a pinched heart. Cause, he is sure that you'll be fine. And doesn't want to tell you that you only have two unsavory options. Death or the supernatural.

All that is he 100% certain of, is that he will do anything to make sure that you live as peacefully and happily as possible. So if that means withholding the truth now and suffering for it later, so be it. Because if he suffers for this later, then it's because you're alive and healthy enough to argue with him.

****

A/N: omfg this took me all day- but it was fun I can't lie. let me know if you want a part two or something like a season two version with the same pairing! love you all and thank you for reading!

[goat-guy-tm]

I was talking about deep analysis of Curly and Jimmy's dynamic in my discord server (which you should join), and I thought "Hey! Maybe tumblr would like this!" So, here this is! It's a rough copy paste of what I said, edited slightly to fit better in a post format:

Also long post warning.

I feel like because a lot of ppl haven't experience people like Jimmy irl they have a hard time understanding why Curly acts the way he does, and by no means is it still 100% okay, but when you know someone that's been mentally manipulating you for years if can become easy to be tunnel visioned to they pain they cause others. I think a big example of that is when Anya shows concern over Jimmy's last psych evaluation but when Curly does it Jimmy (from the little text we get about it) tells him it was just all jokes, which could have been, but when it's just Jimmy and Curly it's much lighter in perspective, because Curly believes him, and Curly sees no reason for Jimmy to lie to him about his mental state (which he obviously was doing as he has quite the psychotic break a few days later)

Not to mention, Jimmy gets quite aggressive at Curly when he notices that Curly is rethinking his career. He activly calls him horrible things for 'not appreciating his position and wanting something new' (<not direct words but overview), when if Jimmy was a good friend he would have been talking about it with Curly. Instead he shames Curly for it, that in Jimmy's mind it's unfair for Curly to not be happy cause Curly has a better seat than him, but he'll frame it as them, the whole crew, to make Curly feel bad about it.

Like, when the rest of the crew learned they were going to be let go after that haul, none of them were really mad at Curly for him being the only one to be given a recommendation and compensation. Yeah Anya and Swansea are upset about it, but only Jimmy is the one to call out Curly for being the only one to relieve special treatment, when it's pretty established Curly is/was one of Pony Expresses' best pilots. But Jimmy doesn't talk about himself during the party. Swansea mentions how unfair it is that PE is throwing them to the side after all these years, Anya almost has a panic attack over not having any money in savings, Daisuke isn't really phased since he's only an intern, but Jimmy gets mad at CURLY, not Pony Express. He even full on calls it Curly running away, as if Pone Express closing them down is Curly's fault for wanting something different for his life

I mean what's wild to me is I'm p sure Curly even has a conversation with Jimmy in the game about how he hasn't been handed anything and has been working hard for where he is. Curly never out right really says it, but he does make mention of both of them working hard. Then again Curly doesn't talk about himself a lot even in conversation (minus the "on the edge of a bridge with your feet in the cememnt" one cause Jimmy made it about him)

When going back through the playthrough, I realized Jimmy is such a well written villian because he convinces even Curly that Curly is the villian here, the one in the wrong. Curly isn't perfect, he is quite literally the imperfect victim, but Jimmy is such a big manipulator that he convinces Curly it's HIS fault all this is happening, that Curly needs JIMMY so that he can fix all this, only for Curly to realizes what Jimmy's been doing when he finds Jimmy curled up outside the cockpit with a ship wide system failure blaring.

Buddy Corl: "Hey, just an idea, would Jimmy keep Anya alive so that Curly can stay alive? He berates her medical expertise but never elects to care for Curly beyond feeding him pills."

I'd say 50/50. A big thing is Jimmy quite obviously doesn't view Anya as a person, or at the very least views her as bottom of the barrel useless, but after the crash and with Curly how he was, there was no way he'd be able to do it and survive, because the entire time Swansea has the axe and Jimmy even recognizes that if he steps out of line too far within the lines of "I'm captian so I say so", then Swansea would basically usurp him. His own personal caring for Curly was most likely to keep him suffering. He voted on keeping Curly alive, and unless he was just trying to blend in with the others, then he did it because he wanted to keep Curly suffering.

Friend Corl again: "There was a Tumblr post that claimed the hands of the others were missing (the overview angle of Curly on the table was used as evidence) but this could just be the angle of the scene itself as he was going to die shortly after."

Hm, it could have been either the angle, a rendering choice from the devs or Jimmy could have cut their hands off. Idk why he would only go for the hands though, since he seems to show full intrest in cannablism. But you could chalk it up to a concept of keeping them from being able to do anything. Yes they are dead but Jimmy is far gone enough to believe that cutting their hands off could still make him better because they can't do anything to change what he's done.

Anyways that's it! For some context on why this is so important to me, from elementary school to the end of middle school I had a 'friend' that I was extremely close with. She was a horrible person who mentally, emotionally and physically tortured me for years, but since I was a child I never saw anything wrong with it. I would even rush to her defense when people would point out to me that what she was doing was bad. Now a days I hate her, and I love to talk shit about her, but I think a lot of people don't fully take in Curly's actions because they haven't gone through that (and they shouldn't, mind you).

I feel for Curly a lot, because I see myself in him in how he tries so desperately to protect someone he didn't even realize was killing him. Curly isn't perfect, and believe me I wasn't perfect when I was friends with her. She made me act out against people to gain her approval, she made me bitter and mean to others, do things I would never do. Very few people acknowledge what an over powering manipulator that has been controlling you for years can do to a person.

[luneemeritus]

Angel Dust love/appreciation post

With all the horrendous negativity sorrounding Angel Dust these days, I decided to make a post dedicated to love and appreciate him. It's 2024 and we still need to defend victims. It's like we moved backwards, specially considering that most individuals that hate Angel for... some reason? Call themselfs progressists. Lmao. What a sick joke. But let's foccus on what's good: Angel.

• Angel was willing to have sex with Alastor only to help Charlie. He doesnt like Alastor, he thinks Al is creepy and untrustworthy, and if he filmed himself having sex with Al, he would piss off Valentino (doing work "without his permission" to help someone Val heavily dislikes, after all, Charlie is helping him). So Angel was putting himself in danger and willing to fuck the stinky deer bastard just to help Charlie. HE LOVES HER SO MUCH, I CANT.

• Angel is so protective. He is so brave, he tried everything he could to keep Charlie away from Val, even yelling at her because her safety is more important for him. He grabbed Niffty like a baby to protect her from the loansharkers that were chasing Mimzy, he took the knife out of Niffty's hand, he stood up against Val to defend Niffty, and, unlike Charlie, she wasnt very close to him. But he just cares so much about his friends. It's so beautiful.

• The whole scene when Angel tells Val to fuck off. Just this. It's so fucking satisfying to see Angel being so strong and brave. Of course he will need help eventually, no one can be strong forever, but still. I'm so proud of him.

• Angel rejects Cherri's offer (drug) without shaming her or considering her less of a friend. He still loves her, supports her and is always there for her no matter what ❤️

• He didnt only stayed in the Hotel even after knowing Adam would target them first, he was also so invested in fighting back and protecting the Hotel. What a good boy 🥹

• When Vaggie throw him along with Pentious, he didnt ran away nor left Pentious to die alone (considering how both him and Vaggie were not trusting him), he fought back, protected Pentious and supported him after they were safe. And keep in mind that Pentious was both working for the Vees AND slutshamed Angel. But Angel didnt hold grudge (honestly he's better than me, my petty ass would be 100% pettier)

• The simple fact that Angel opened up to Husk was an act of strenght. This was so hard for him. The facade "helped" him to stay "untouched" and "safe" from humiliation, but it only made him self destruct. Letting go of that facade and ADMITING that he needs help is so, so hard. But he did it. Angel I love you

• The way he was so heartbroken by Pentious's death 🥺💔 "you did good, buddy" HEEELLPPP

• His protectiveness is beyond his friends, he saved the little egg boy in the cuntiest way possible, he's so fucking kind and brave, HE SLAYED.... (literally)

• As some people love to point Angel's past in the mafia (I mean, their ASSUMPTIONS on what Angel's mafia past was lol) to prove that "he is such a terrible person", I'd love to point out how he's terrified and disgusted by cruelty (Alastor's, Val's, Adam's) and only uses to violence when he needs to defend himself. From the men that wanted to drug and assault him in EP4, defending their territorry from Pentious in the pilot, defending the Hotel from literally every danger, from the mob that wanted to kill him in that very old pre-pilot comic. In conclusion, he is not a cruel person.

• And still speaking of that topic: he can handle himself. And that's fantastic. Every single time he used a gun, he ate 💅

• CHARLIE GRABBED HIS HAND IN THE FINALE 😭😭😭 it's so beautiful I love theeeemmm

• And of course, he stopped acting inapropriately towards Husk because he understood what he was doing is wrong. His haters are unable to see how much Angel improves himself, but it's not easy to let go of a problematic behaviour when called out. Angel I love you so much

• The way he was chasing Fat Nuggets when the Hotel was destroyed 🥺🥺🥺 such a wonderful pet dad ❤️

• There are different interpretations for Angel's reaction when Husk tells him "I guess you have changed", but I just love how he doesnt take pride or talks about himself, because that was not his priority. He wanted to foccus on living, helping and supporting his friends, spending his time wisely with people he cared about. I love you Angel

• Angel is unapologetically feminine, sensual, free and queer. This is awesome. He would be the best freak at Pride Parades. Be like Angel, be unapologetically yourself, live freely.

Now just look at cute pictures of this patootie

He's so pretty. I love him. Thanks for reading. Live laugh love Angel Dust

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[acourtofthought]

Hello! Recently I've been watching a lot of acotar discussions and as I'm from the Gwynriel and Elucien fandom I'd like to know your thoughts on it. I saw a girl on the other side of the fandom saying that canonically Amren had suggested that Elain leave the house and get some fresh air before Lucien. She also cites scenes in which Elain was present in the sunlight but was still depressed and that what really helped her to start to improve her condition was when Azriel said that she was a seer. I would really love to know your thoughts on this. And I also wanted to ask what you think about when Madja says that only a mate could say what Elain had and it is Azriel who says that she was a seer.

In canon, Elain's condition began improving after Lucien's arrival and after Lucien demanded they get her out of the house. Was she fully healed? Of course not. She's not even fully healed now but the change was noticeable (more on this below).

Amren did make the suggestion for both sisters but it was Lucien who began losing his temper because it seemed Nesta and Feyre weren't taking his suggestion seriously. It was Lucien's insistence that triggered Feyre to take action, not Amren's, and Amren seemed more focus on getting the sisters to help them rather than Elain's mental health.

Amren page 171:

Lucien page 252 (almost 100 pages later, he also wasn't present for Amren's comment) :

Only one of these scenarios shows true, targeted concern for Elain, very specific requests related to Elain (he even mentioned the sea and we later learn their estate in the human lands was by the sea). To the point that he was personally affected by Feyre and Nesta making light of his suggestion, indicating he knew how important it was to Elain's well being. And only one of these characters is Elain's mate who just truly met her for the first time yet he was able to achieve the desired outcome that a 15,000 being did not. That her own sisters didn't even think of.

Side note, if we're putting weight on the things Amren said then it should be also noted how she was the one who had to reprimand Az for not believing in Elain. And Madja even said there was nothing wrong with Elain, which is true. Elain's powers were a riddle to solve but they aren't something to fix. Not like her catatonic state was (a state we could say Az drew straws to avoid). Her specific words were:

"The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

Lucien barely had time to sit with Elain before Nesta pulled her rage act but even if he'd been with her longer, he wouldn't have found anything "amiss" outside of her sadness of what happened.

Her powers are simply powers, something she only had for a few weeks, they aren't a link to her soul. Az simply knew the name for them, as he would have known the name for anyone with those same powers, it doesn't mean he knows Elain as an individual.

Back to Elain's state, before Lucien's arrival in the HOW she was not eating, drinking or sleeping. She would not leave her room and she spent her days crying.

Within two days of Lucien's arrival she left her room for the first time though the sisters "couldn't figure out why". And she just happened to choose the room where Lucien just happened to be visiting though he was actually ordered not to after Elain just happened to begin having her visions for the first time.

(sounds like our Seer knew where her mate would be going!).

After Lucien demanded they get her outside, she began sleeping and drinking, two things she hadn't done before his suggestion. She also stopped crying all the time.

Again, that was after page 252 and beyond. Az claimed she was a Seer on page 334. And this is actually how that went:

Elain didn't even trust what Az was telling her, she had to confirm it with Mor. And after she confirmed it with Mor, Mor was the one who first fought for her vision while Az thought it was better to do nothing with it, choosing not to go after what she was seeing:

And it was Lucien who volunteered in Elain's place:

Az gave name to Elain's powers but it was Mor and Lucien who actually believed in her and what she was telling them. Elain did start baking after that but for someone who felt like nobody ever saw her, my guess is it was Mor and Lucien's confidence in the information she provided that made the difference, not Az labeling what her gift was then choosing to ignore the help she offered to the IC.

[dramadramallama]

Thinking about how petrifying it must have been for Su-min to watch Ji-won detach herself from her in every possible way. How telling that their nickname for each other was "[my] other half." Where Ji-won thought of her as a sister with whom she could share everything, Su-min only ever thought of Ji-won as an extension of herself, the other half of her that matters, the other half whose dad did not abandon her, the other half who is loved. When you're loved, you're not empty.

Watching Ji-won stand up for herself and refuse to do all the things she used to do for Su-min is akin to watching her two arms and legs suddenly grow a brain and go on about their life, abandoning her completely. At this point I think she's beyond angry: she's horrified lol

She is incapable of thinking of Ji-won outside of herself: she doesn't see her as her own person. And Ji-won used to unknowingly let herself be eaten away. Su-min's weird coping mechanism for her abandonment issues is based entirely on that. She both resents and needs her.

In the original timeline, she slowly, insidiously took over that "other half" until Ji-won completely disappeared, and Su-min was able to replace her fully (righting a—perceived—wrong). But, in the new timeline, her other half doesn't act like a puzzle piece. Uh oh, Ji-won is a whole, complete person! Su-min still tries to "replace" her, but fails because Ji-won has become too solid to be moved or erased.

I feel like Su-min's reached some sort of milestone with the last couple episodes. It's like she expected to be spoon-fed sugar as always, but realized she was suddenly choking on salt lmao. We didn't see much of her in ep 14 unfortunately, but her outbursts in episode 13 were so good. Hands down the most interesting character lol (sorry Yu-ra, I can't be bothered to care about youuu, I'm bored).

She's certified cray-zy, and compared to her composed appearance of the earlier eps, it's almost like she's experiencing a descent into madness... but girlie's been insane the whole time, and for so long, so at this point it's not a descent; she can't go any lower. Rather, it's kind of an abrupt ascent lol. A violent wake up call. Everything is bubbling up to the surface, and she can't avoid it.

Even during the confrontation (finally!!!!) with Ji-won, she took so long to drop the act, she took so long to admit what really motivated her actions. 100% sure it was the first time she had to put words, Actual Words on her feelings and behavior. And after her whole monologue, for Ji-won to reply, "...what, that's it?"

Even her reasons are seen—by her own victim too!—as utterly empty, and devoid of any meaning. Oooooh, it must have burned.

[reminiscingtonight]

Just A Sucker

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: 100% started off as a crackfic but then it turned into something fluffy. Loosely based on F**kboy by Fletcher.

[WOSO Masterlist]

The slap really jolts you into the present. 

Rubbing at your cheek, you don’t even have a chance to protest before there’s a finger digging at your sternum. 

“You ruined my life.” The words are gritted out from a blonde you’re all too familiar with. 

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Kris, you’re literally in love with Sam.”

Kristie rolls her eyes, brushing away your comment. “That’s beyond the point.”

“You’re the one who ended things!” you huff, not really sure why the blonde is so annoyed. It had been all fun and games between the two of you, but next thing you knew, she was sucking face with the Australian all over instagram. Granted the two of you never put a label on things, but you still felt the sting of rejection. 

Before she has the chance to say anything, there’s a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around. 

You come face to face with Sonnett.

The groan is automatic. “Oh come on. Not you too.”

Sonnett merely glares at you. “What, you thought Lindsey wouldn’t tell me?”

Your mouth drops. You pretty clearly remember the muttered ‘Sonny can not know about this’ the blonde gritted out minutes before she left your apartment all those years ago. “We were drunk! And mind you, you had just left Portland.”

“And you didn’t even wait two seconds before fucking my best friend!”

“Oh shut it. It’s not like our bed was even cold before she jumped into yours.”

You have to brace yourself at the familiar voice. You plaster on your best fake smile before turning around. “Abby. Hey.”

“Don’t you ‘Abby, hey,’ me,” the defender berates, fixing you with an unamused look. 

“Jesus, what is this? I feel like all of my exes are here,” you complain, nervously pulling at your collar. Maybe Kelley was right when she warned you not to mix pleasure with business. You really should have listened to your sister more.

“Exes is such a loose term, don’t you think?” Abby rolls her eyes. You have to fight your urge to snort. She’s not exactly wrong. You don’t think you could really count any of these… prolonged sexual encounters you’ve had with any of them as a proper relationship. At least not the wine-and-dine type of relationship Kelley’s always been raging about. 

Someone clearing their throat has your eyes shooting to the side. You’re instantly shaking your head. “Nope,” you put your hands up. “We have never slept together. That much I know.”

Rose glares at you. “Shut it. I know what goes on in that mind of yours.”

Sonny cuts in again, yanking you back towards her. “Is there anyone you haven’t fucked?”

“Rose! I’ve literally never had sex with her!”

Your words fall upon deaf ears. 

“You’re the worst person ever.”

“You suck.”

“You’re horrible.”

“You messed me up bad.”

“You literally only ever called me when it was late. Or you were drunk. Or both.”

Bombarded with all of the noise, there isn’t really anything else you can say except for a short, bewildered, “Damn.”

You scratch at the back of your head when everyone’s glares increase tenfold.

“Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” 

“I… what more do you want me to say?”

Last you checked, you were on good terms with everyone. You had apologized to everyone you hurt, and it took a little bit of time, but they all eventually forgave you for all of the dumb choices you made in your early twenties. 

Looks like you were wrong. 

“Look. We can talk this out.”

It’s the look you receive that tells you ‘talking your way out of this’ will definitely not fly.

You gulp.

---

You’re sweating when you wake up. 

It takes you a second to remember where you are. The ceiling you’ve spent the last three years familiarizing yourself with stares right back at you. There’s a warm body right next to you, and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is. 

You do it anyways.

Leah’s already looking your way when you roll over. 

“Hi.” You try to ignore the way your voice sounds hoarse.

She accepts your kiss with a sigh. When her eyes flutter open again seconds later, you don’t miss the little twinkle that wasn’t there before. “You were saying a lot of names in your sleep. I totally wasn’t jealous or anything.”

“Right. Not jealous,” you echo, chuckling at the way Leah wrinkles up her nose at your tease. “Had a nightmare.”

Leah pauses. “About your national teammates?”

“Uh… my exes, actually.”

You can see her practically counting all of the names you had muttered in your sleep. Shuddering, you really hope you hadn’t said everyone’s names. The amount of teasing that’s sure to come your way…

“You were a little fuckboy, weren’t you?” 

If the two of you had this conversation a couple years ago, those words would have been spit out in a fit of anger. The conversation wouldn’t be very productive, with you vehemently defending yourself and Leah asking for more commitment. Now though? Well now you’re blushing in embarrassment and Leah’s trying her hardest not to laugh right into your face.

You grimace. “That’s a bit crude, don’t you think?”

Leah raises an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

Your first few years after bursting onto the soccer scene was marred with countless reckless decisions, that much you will admit. Struggling to break out of your sister’s shadows, you did more than a couple things you weren’t proud of. One of them being sleeping with more than half of your friends and teammates.

It really wasn’t until you accepted the contract overseas that you decided to fix up your image. You were great at soccer, you really were, but it was hard for people to take you seriously when all you were known for was jumping from bed to bed.

“I’m a kept woman,” you murmur, tightening your hand against the edge of Leah’s shirt. “You really wrangled me down.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” she hums, rolling over so you could fit into her arms much more easily. It’s hard to miss the self-satisfied smile on her face.

You were smitten from the start. You knew within the first five minutes of meeting Leah that she was someone you wanted.

Despite your best efforts to charm her, your reputation still hung around like a lost dog. Leah mistook your flirting for something less than it actually was, quick to play it off as a joke. When you eventually found yourselves in bed together, you woke the next morning determined to ask Leah out on a date.

Only for the blonde to stop you before you could even get started.

“Thanks for helping me scratch an itch.”

Hiding the sting of rejection with a smirk, you tried to laugh it off.

Leah was the one who suggested it first. Friends with benefits. No strings attached. 

You halfheartedly agreed, resolved to take whatever you could get. And she gave you a lot. 

At least she did until she started running. 

Phone calls started getting ignored. Texts left on read. Every time you approached Leah she would brush you off. 

Not used to chasing someone, you were understandably taken off guard. 

Kelley was unsurprisingly not helpful when you explained your problem to her. 

“No, Kel. You can not break her kneecaps.” 

You were quick to match her unamused look with one of your own.

It took Leah nearly breaking your ribs in an international friendly for the two of you to finally get your shit together. 

“I thought you didn’t do relationships.” She explained softly, eyes nervously dropping to the ground.

“I don’t,” you quietly admitted. “But I want to. With you.”

Three years later, you haven’t so much as looked at another woman the same way you’re often caught staring at Leah. The matching rings are a fairly new thing, but it’s hard for you to find a reason to try and remember a life before you even got them. And why would you? With Leah by your side, it’s easy to let go of your past.

[writersnook11]

I'd Wait Forever

Life Day Exchange 2024

@lonewolflupe @cloneficgiftexchange

Word Count: 5.5k+

Warnings: 18+ but no smut, no use of Y/N, SFW, grief, mentions of death and lack of closure, denial, angst, mentions of corruption, mentions of Order 66, emotional reunion, fluff, kisses, holiday activities, mentions of a tiny square box with a very specific purpose

Summary: After Fives’ death, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. Your last conversation with Fives left you confused, scared, and reeling with its implications. You learn to live with your grief, and when the Republic is replaced by the Empire, you decide to leave Coruscant. You move to the place you and Fives had intended to live after the war, choosing to face head on what could have been. Months later, an unexpected visitor arrives.

Disclaimer: I should note I’m not 100% sure of the amount of time that passed between Fives’ death (canonically) and Order 66. In writing this I took a creative liberty in saying it was several months, please forgive me if that’s wrong. But also, this is fanfiction, so *shrug*, anything goes sometimes. I think a timeline issue in this case is a minor thing, but I at least wanted to be upfront about my doubt. I also don't know if the GAR troops were paid, but in this case they were, albeit extremely minimally.

Gift Note: Happy Holidays! Lupe, I hope you like it! I went a bit crazy with the angst but I hope the fluff makes it worth it. I read your About Me and stuck a nugget or two in there for you specifically. It's not perfect by any means, I'd edit this for months if I could. Also, I'm not sure if you use Spotify, but during the writing process I made a mood playlist/soundtrack and I'd be glad to share it with you if you're interested! Anyway happy reading, let me know what you think! <3

AI Notice: My consent to any and all use of my work in training AI is expressly withdrawn. Do not use my work in training artificial intelligence.

It had taken a matter of weeks for your world to turn upside down.

You longed for those hushed whispers of comfort, his rumbled assurance that he’d be back before you knew it. You desperately craved his arms around your waist again, holding you close and hanging on like you’d never let go, both of you warm and safe. 

Part of you didn’t believe it. How could you? He called you only hours beforehand, a rushed warning of something you couldn’t quite understand. 

Be ready to leave the second I get home, all those plans we made to move? We’re doing it now—

Fives wait—

Listen to me, okay? There’s something big happening, I can’t explain it all yet, I don’t have much time—

Fives you’re scaring me, what are you talking about? What’s happening?

Don’t be afraid, sweetheart, I’ll be home soon and we’ll get far away from here, just like we said we would.

Yeah, but that was after the war— is it over? Will it be over soon? Is that what you’re saying? 

No— I— I can’t tell you or I’d be putting you in danger.

What? You better tell me what the hell is going on, right now.

I can’t—

Fives!

A beat of silence. 

Dammit… Listen, you can’t repeat this to anyone, and I mean anyone, okay? Not Rex, not Fox, not Commander Tano, no one. Not until I give you the all clear. Got it? 

Okay, I hear you… 

The Kaminoans put something in every clone. Every clone. And it can control us. It’s an implant in our brains. Tup’s malfunctioned, that’s why—

Control you? What? Fives I’m confused—

This goes deeper than I ever thought possible. I don’t know what to— Kriff. I have to go—

Fives be safe! I can’t—

I love you baby, see you soon.

You were beyond confused and scared, but Fives was one of the best troopers in the GAR and you knew better than to doubt him. You trusted him more than anyone in the galaxy. You did as he told, if not to comfort yourself then him. 

You were waiting in the living room of your tiny Coruscant apartment, bags packed by the couch, when the Guard knocked on your door.

How could you believe them? 

This wasn’t in the plan. 

His funeral wasn’t like any you’d ever attended. It was lumped in with hundreds of his brothers fallen in combat, more like a memorial than anything. You went through the motions numbly, half-heartedly acting the part of a grief-stricken loved one because you still couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. Something in the way Fives had told you about behavioral implants, the war being fabricated; you didn’t trust many people anymore, even clones. It didn’t help that no one could meet your eye; not Rex, not Kix or any of the 501st. Maybe they felt responsible somehow. Survivor’s guilt, perhaps. You simply couldn’t believe Fives was dead. 

Weeks went by. Everyone looked at you with such sympathy. Rex even called to check in or visited when he was able, however rare that turned out to be. 

When months went by and there was still no word from Fives, you started to believe them. Maybe he was truly gone. He wouldn’t leave you this long without at least a word of comfort, even an acknowledgment or letter.

You returned to work, pouring yourself into it, saving money and filling your days as best you could while you hoped and waited to be wrong. Sometimes you’d pass by clones on shore leave, laughing and making merry. You’d see glimpses of him in his brothers, hear him in their voices. Those days you couldn’t help but wonder if any of them had known him, if they’d had a chance to hear him out. You often thought about his last days, especially the few hours after he comm’d you. Was he afraid? Angry? How deep did this go? You wanted to ask Rex, General Skywalker, anyone and everyone who was near him in his final days. Before you had the chance to speak to them again, everything Fives said to you in that call coalesced. 

The fall of the Jedi Temple, eliminated by Republic clones, and the emergence the Empire. Headlines that shook you to the core. 

You knew good and well the Jedi would never turn against the Republic, Fives had told you too much about them. You also knew just as well that the clones would never turn their backs on the Jedi without a second thought. No creature in the galaxy could meet a more loyal band of brothers. Behavioral implants suddenly made a frightening amount of sense. 

You didn’t like what this implied about the Republic, what it had been under the surface all along. When the Chancellor seemingly declared himself Emperor, you knew where the galaxy would head. You’d read too much about such governments. All too soon, free thoughts even as simple as questioning a new policy would be deemed threats to democracy, threats to the Empire. Any and all of which would be punished, if not eliminated entirely. 

You thought back to your final call with Fives, how he’d said telling you those things would put you in danger. If his last words to you ended up a warning without him ever knowing truly what would transpire, you wanted to make sure it wasn’t in vain. It had to be worth something, even if that only meant your escape from a corrupt regime. 

The night of Emperor Palpatine’s inaugural address would be your last spent on Coruscant. 

The instinct to run away was a powerful one, one you had never felt so tangibly. You spent the larger part of the night packing and repacking your bags, trying to dwindle your life down to the bare necessities for starting over. When you finally slept, you tossed and turned, waking in the morning feeling like you’d have been better off not sleeping at all. 

With one bag over your shoulders and one in hand, you turned to give that dingy, budget apartment a last once over. At first, you looked to make sure you didn’t miss anything you wanted to take. You’d never be coming back, after all. But then you were watching Fives sneak up on you while you were making dinner, food flinging to the ceiling as you shrieked. Then you were falling all over him, giggles and exclamations of surprise filling the room. You watched how his hands fit perfectly on your hips, sliding up your waist to your back to envelope you in a tight hug, your kisses peppering his face. Your lips fell on his, humming contentedly and standing there together in bliss. Then dinner started burning and you had to practically tear his arms off to get to the stove, a wide grin never leaving his face. 

A tear slid down your cheek, one you brushed away with the palm of your free hand. You couldn’t bear the thought of a whole life without him. 

You pushed that memory to the back of your mind, turning on your heel and locking the door behind you. At the front office you turned in your key, bidding farewell to the only office manager you actually didn’t mind. She asked if there was anything she could do, but you shook your head and assured her there were just too many memories in that apartment now. She gave you a knowing nod and you told her about the rest of your belongings, that she could sell or donate or throw away the rest. She asked if she should leave it as is for a while, in case you changed your mind. You shook your head again. 

You’d never be coming back, after all. 

Clouds of dust billowed as you dropped your bags in the doorway, making you cough. Carefully, you made your way through the foyer into the living room, then into the kitchen, stepping over rotted floorboards and soft spots. You assessed needed repairs as you went, cringing as the list grew. 

It was worse than when you and Fives bought it. Granted, there were already numerous issues when you put down an offer. That was the main reason you were able to get it so ridiculously cheap. It wasn’t like they paid clones well. Now you’d just spend an arm and a leg repairing everything, and hopefully get it finished before winter. 

You ran a hand across the window over the kitchen sink, barely brushing enough dirt away to see the barn clearly. You stepped back and made your way to the mudroom, walking out back to take a look at the yard. Fenced in (if you could call what remained a fence), the barn stood several hundred units behind the house. It was weathered and worn by time and lack of tending, standing nearly twice the size of the main house. Its hayloft was in desperate need of new supports and the whole thing in need of new siding. 

You sighed, turning on your heel to head back inside. Crossing through the mudroom again, you looked to the stairs leading to the second floor. Sheets of wallpaper, fallen from upstairs, laid across the steps. As you climbed the stairs, you leaned over and crumpled up what was in your way, having to tear some the rest of the way from the wall. 

The second level was not in much better shape than the first. Of the two small bedrooms and one large, only about ten units of wallspace still held wallpaper. The refresher needed serious TLC to the plumbing, the sink running brown for the first ten minutes of waterflow. When it finally ran clear, it only ran cold. 

You pinched your lips together and let out an exasperated sigh. After retrieving your bags from the front door, you marched upstairs and began getting settled as best you could. At least you brought one of Fives’ old bedrolls.

You spent your first few weeks getting the most pressing repairs in the house finished. Plumbing, replacement floorboards on the ground floor, and leaks in the roof patched up just in time for the rainy season. You got your hands on some budget furniture to fill the emptiness, met with neighbors though they were a mile away, and familiarized yourself with the village even further down the road. As much as you could, you kept your days busy. 

Nights, however, were always lonely. That’s when the longing settled back in. Missing him, his company and warmth, the life in his smile that filled your soul with purpose. Laying alone in the bed meant for you two was more draining than you expected. You thought getting away from Coruscant would be more of a fresh start than this. You’d hoped your grief wouldn’t follow you this closely. 

You often found yourself just… angry. 

Who was responsible for taking away millions of clones’ free will? Who was responsible for taking away the future you and Fives had dreamt up? What political scumbag took away your goodbye? 

You established a routine. Breakfast, wash up, chores. Stop into town if needed. Lunch. Work on the house and the land. Wash up again, start on dinner. Sit on the porch with your meal, watch the sun go down, and go to bed. 

It wasn’t elaborate or set in stone. You’d alter any of it when needed, but you knew you needed consistency. You wanted it, even. Anything to take your mind off Fives and the Empire. 

Month by month, your old house tucked in the woods became more of a home. It wasn’t so empty, dusty, or broken anymore. No more leaks, peeling walls, or rough spots in the floors. Good, kind neighbors pitched in to help where they could, mainly with the heaviest lifting. The Apande’s down the road helped put in—forget just supports—an entire new hayloft. With things shaping up, you were able to find peace in many things you hadn’t been able to living on Coruscant. 

Each morning you could listen to the world around you waking up. Birds would start singing just as sunlight struck the treetops. Light filtered in through thin, floating curtains, shadows of branches and leaves dancing across your wall. In the summer you’d sit on the porch steps, counting fireflies and listening to crickets. When autumn came you reaped your first harvest in the garden, albeit small, and felt immense pride in what your hard work produced. When the first snow of the season fell you couldn’t help but stare at it in awe. You must have sat on the porch for an hour, watching flakes twirl around each other, hot mug in hand. 

Each of those peaceful moments were supposed to be spent with Fives. You often imagined him sitting next to you, wondering what he’d say or do, if he’d try to catch fireflies and how many he’d beat you by. You wondered if he’d experienced snow before, if he’d have the same light in his eyes that you did when he first saw it fall. Over time it became less of a bitter ache for what could have been, and more of a sweet gratitude for his memory, for having the ability to imagine him there at all. In turning that broken down house into a home, you could grieve and start to come to terms with the future you’d never have. But as time approached your first Life Day without Fives, it was like the whole grieving process restarted. 

You never had the chance to celebrate together. He was always deployed. You never complained, he was where he was needed, but you were always a little downcast. You’d rather him be home with you than at risk of being shot by some Separatist droid.

You delayed decorating longer than you ever had. By the time you went to town to get a tree, nearly the entire lot had been sold. You thought about trekking into the woods surrounding your home to find one, but they were almost guaranteed to be too tall or wide to fit through either door. So, you brought home the best one you were able to scrounge up out of the last pickings. It was a bit scrawny, with thin spots here and there, but it was soft and sturdy and could—without a doubt—fit through your door. 

You cried when you finally got it settled in the living room. He would’ve loved the smell. He would’ve gotten sap all over himself, cursing how it stuck to everything and was so hard to wash off, but loved it all the same. He would’ve loved the crackling of wood in the fireplace, how different it was from the hustle and bustle of traffic on Coruscant or blaster-fire in the field. You could see him thundering into the mudroom, arms full of logs for the fire, stomping as much snow off his boots as he could. He’d look up at you, nose red from the cold, and smile that smile that made your face flush, heart flutter, and stomach do backflips. 

You’d gotten good at building fires. The house didn’t have an electric heating system. Pipes of water ran through the floors, warmed by the furnace in the kitchen. You’d often come back from trips to the village and find it completely cold. You considered yourself lucky; one of your neighbors taught you to split wood. Most of the time he provided it himself, on account of his darling wife (who swore up and down she’d teach you to bake the spiced apple pie her grandchildren loved). All you had to do was carry it to the house from the barn. Granted, it was a trek through almost knee-high snow to get it, but you’d rather that than freezing. 

You still hadn’t decorated your tree by Life Day’s Eve. You didn’t have the heart to, so the boxes sat in a corner. You avoided walking through the living room altogether. The very thought of the tree got shoved to the back of your mind, having almost intentionally forgotten the whole reason you bought it in the first place. You could heal your Life Day heart another year. 

Instead, you filled your time helping your sweetheart neighbors in preparing for their guests. She asked for your help the week before, assuring you it’d be then that she’d teach you to make that blessed pie. You stood in the kitchen with her from dawn to dusk, measuring and mixing and getting covered in flour. By sunset, a full day’s meals and feast awaited the next morning’s oven. 

She thanked you profusely for your time and help, insisting you join them for Life Day festivities. You assured her that you were grateful for the invitation, but didn’t want to intrude on her family gathering. She persisted again, citing her fear that you two made too much food, and you relented to join them for dinner. She smiled gleefully, ushering you out the door. 

The walk home wasn’t quite as lonely as you expected. Sure, your shoulders were weighed down a good bit that Fives wouldn’t be there, but you felt a little lighter. 

Snow crunched beneath your feet. You shivered in a particularly cold gust of wind, hugging your coat tighter on yourself to shield against it. The house is going to be freezing. 

As you made the turn onto your drive, you immediately headed for the barn to get more wood for the furnace. Approaching the pile, you huffed a few breaths on your hands to warm them and heaved several logs into your arms. You followed the path back to the house and into the mudroom, dropping your haul to the floor before shaking snow from your coat and boots. 

You leaned over to untie your boot laces when it struck you.

The house was warm. 

You wrinkled your brow in confusion. Had you put that much wood in the furnace before you left? Surely not, you were gone all day, it’d still be burnt out. It should’ve been cold. 

Footsteps sounded from the living room, shooting a cold lightning bolt of fear down your spine. You fought the urge to freeze, flattening yourself against the wall adjacent to the living room door. Heart pounding, you peeked around the frame. The light was on. When you saw no one, you darted into the kitchen, careful to keep your footfall light. 

You went straight for the furnace, grabbing the firewood poker from its rack. Your knuckles whitened, poker gripped tightly against you. 

You rounded the corner of the dining room, holding your makeshift weapon in front of you. Still you saw no one. You frowned, wondering if you’d been mistaken. 

You stepped through the foyer, hands shaking with adrenaline. No footsteps and no shadows. 

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to the living room. Still you saw no source of the footsteps you could’ve sworn you heard. 

A floorboard creaked behind you, sending your heart into your throat as you gasped and whipped around. 

Fives, wrapped in grungy blacks and holey socks, raised his hands in defense. 

The room spun and you faltered backward, your grip on the fire poker loosening as it clattered to the floor. You raised both hands to your head, gripping your own hair and trying to make sense of what you were seeing. 

He took a step toward you. “Hey,” he rasped. 

You held a hand out in a gesture to stop, falling to your knees. 

He stopped and stood his ground, fighting an overwhelming instinct to run to you and swaddle you in his arms. 

Countless tears slid down your cheeks, hands shaking for an entirely different reason this time. You pressed your palms into your eyes and rubbed them. Blinking hard, you looked back to him. “How? How are you here? Alive?” 

Fives took a tentative half-step toward you, kneeling down closer to your level. “It’s a long story,” he said softly. “I had to protect you from—” 

You launched yourself at him, knocking him to the floor as your arms swung around his middle. His arms were quick to wrap around you, hugging you close like he would soon wake up and you’d be long gone. 

Your body shook with sobs, forehead pressed into his chest and fists balling up in the back of his shirt. He held you, rubbing your back and planting gentle kisses atop your head, until your shaking stilled and breathing grew more even. 

Even after you calmed down, you stayed where you were, both of you relishing the familiarity of each other after so long. You tilted your head to look at him, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he was even alive. 

“I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so long. There’s so much to tell you,” Fives broke the silence quietly, meeting your gaze. 

You sighed, reaching up to hold his cheek in the palm of your hand. He leaned into your touch, cupping your hand in his. “You can start with how you’re alive,” you spoke, voice trembling. “I mourned you, Fives. I– I really thought I’d never see you again.” 

Fives brought his hand to your face, wiping away a fresh tear with his thumb. “I know, Rex kept me updated as best he could.” He averted his gaze, shifting into a thousand yard stare. 

A thousand more questions ran through your mind, but you said nothing, letting him find the words. 

After several beats passed, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I was trying to find anyone who would listen and believe me, but… well, that’s an even longer story. I was sure the Chancellor would listen, but I was wrong. He was part of it.” Fives paused again, a pained look passing across his face. “I got shot. And I was dead, for a bit, but Kix got me back. Rex thought it was best to keep it quiet, after everything.” 

Your breath hitched, fresh tears welling up. “Even from me?” 

Fives turned his head back to you, hand returning to your cheek. “I hated to, but it was the best option to protect you from the same people who wanted me dead. Anyone who knew what I knew was in danger.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Once I healed, I spent every waking moment making sure they wouldn’t come after you.”

Your lips trembled and you pressed your face back into his chest, another embrace swallowing you both. You flattened both hands to his back, breathing in his memory-laden smell. 

“After the Empire took over and things started settling down, I went back to the apartment,” Fives mumbled. “Shira never rented it back out, everything was how you left it.” 

You pulled away and sniffled. “Really?”

He nodded. “I guess she hoped you’d come back.” He shifted and reached behind him, fishing a folded slip of paper from his back pocket. “I wish I could thank her, I was able to grab this.” 

Fives held the paper out to you. You took it between two fingers and unfolded it, revealing a real, printed photo of you and the entire Domino squad, back when you and Fives had first gotten together. You had the holo-copy, but left the printed one behind for the sake of space and anonymity in your travels. 

You were rendered speechless, absently thumbing the edge of the photo. “I can’t… I can’t believe it.” 

Fives grinned. “Of all the things that happened today, the picture is what you can’t believe?” 

You chuckled and smacked his arm, a smile breaking across your face. 

Fives’ grin broadened.  

“Why come here now?” You asked, looking back up at him from the photo. “You said you went back when things started settling down. It’s been over 6 months, has it really been that chaotic?” 

Fives shook his head. “Things settled in pretty quickly, at least on Coruscant. Rex survived. I was able to meet with him, and we started helping our brothers that didn’t want to serve the Empire.” 

You hummed in response, turning back to the photo in your hands. He watched your eyes go from each member of the squad to the next, remembering them solemnly.

He whispered your name, drawing your attention back to him. Tears shone in his eyes. “I thought you left, really left.” His voice cracked, a drop sliding down his cheek. “I thought maybe you’d gone off to start a new life.” 

Your jaw fell slightly agape as you sat rooted to the spot, a bit astonished. You set the photo to the side and sat up, shuffling yourself to look him in the eyes.  “Fives, you are my life. If I had to spend the rest of my days alone, hoping and waiting for you to come back to me, I would.” It was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Your heart ached at the longsuffering now evident in his eyes. “It was always in the plan to live in this house together. I came here to escape the Empire and to try to heal, not move on from you altogether. I don’t think I could ever manage that.” 

Fives’ breath quivered. He cupped the nape of your neck in both hands, pulling you closer to rest his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you rested a palm on one of his hands. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, breath mingling with yours. Your noses brushed against each other, lips tingling at the closeness. Slowly, tenderly, as if he was afraid of hurting you, he inched his lips closer until they met with yours. 

You had kissed him hundreds of times, but none of them came close to the warmth and relief and comfort that settled in your bones with that kiss. You were quick to lose your breath, pulling away gasping for air yet longing for another. 

Fives hovered inches away, catching his breath as you did. His eyes drifted open, gaze soft and dazed. 

You brought a hand to his chin, running a finger over his lower lip. “I’ve missed kissing you,” you sighed. 

He chuckled and grasped your hand, massaging your palm with his thumb. “You have no idea.” 

You both froze as an unmistakable rumble erupted from Fives. You burst into a fit of laughter, a sheepish grin tugging at Fives’ mouth. 

“Hungry?” You laughed, standing to your feet and offering out your hands for him. 

“As a rancor,” He confirmed, taking your hands and standing without tugging them. 

You spent the following couple hours cooking a quick meal together, including the pie your neighbor taught you, which filled the house with the warm scent of cinnamon. You paused occasionally for a kiss or a brief cry. The amount of joy and relief surging through your mind, body, and soul sometimes became overwhelming. Fives was dead, yet, there he stood. In your house that could now truly become a home. Your bed would no longer be half empty. Your table would be one plate fuller. All this, and you could hardly believe it was true. 

“Why is it naked?” 

Fives’ question jarred you from your thoughts. You looked to him, standing in the living room staring at the Life Day Tree. 

“Oh.” You stood from the table and moved to stand next to him. “Well, it didn’t feel right decorating it without you here.” You answered plainly. 

He turned his gaze to meet yours. “But we’d never decorated one together before, why not this one?”

You looked at your feet, slightly embarrassed at the scrawny condition of the tree, though Fives didn't question that. “Because we were supposed to do everything here together. I fought through everything else, but this… I don’t know— it just didn’t feel right.”

Fives grabbed ahold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well I’m here now.” 

You smiled softly, giving his hand a return squeeze. “Yeah, you’re here now.” 

Fives turned in place, looking around the room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He released your hand and took a few paces. “Did you do all of it by yourself?”

You shook your head. “No, some neighbors helped, and a couple things were too far out of my scope so I hired help from in town.” You shuffled to the door frame, leaning against it. “It was a lot, but it was all I could do to keep from losing my mind.” 

Fives stopped and stood in place, looking at you with eyes so full of regret you wondered if he held an entire galaxy’s worth of guilt. 

You pushed yourself off the frame and crossed the room in large strides, wrapping your arms around him. “Don’t think like that,” you whispered, “You’re here now.” 

He sighed and draped his arms around you, accepting your reassurance. “How do you always know,” he relented. 

Fives jolted suddenly, interrupting the embrace to point at a box in the corner, something shiny glimmering between the edges of cardboard. “What’s that?”

You turned to look at what he was referring to and opened your mouth to answer, but Fives beat you to it, crossing the room and opening the lid. He looked back to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Can we?” 

You sighed and tried to bite back a smile, ultimately failing. “Fives, it’s late, can we do it in the morning?” 

“Come on,” he droned playfully, “What’s the use of having it dressed up for one day?” 

Crossing your arms in mock indecision, you brought a hand to tap a finger on your chin. “But if we leave it up for a month, it’s the same, isn’t it?” 

Fives picked up a bundle of lights, unspooling it. “No,” he deadpanned. 

You scoffed out a laugh, marching over to join him. 

The remainder of the evening was spent dolling up your dinky little Life Day tree. You taught Fives how to put lights on without leaving dark spots, how to attach hooks to ornaments and space them out, and how to top it. By the time it was finished, you were so exhausted from the day you were starting to see double. 

You and Fives plopped yourselves down on the sofa, cheap as it was, and leaned back to admire your handiwork. 

“Not bad, for a Life Day Tree shiny,” you smirked lazily. 

Fives gasped, looking at you as if offended. “You take that back!” 

You raised your hands weakly in defense. “I said not bad!” 

He grinned and threw an arm around the back of the sofa. You scooted over to lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

You both sat in silence for a while, a delicate kind of reverence settling over you. You both knew the magnitude of this Life Day in particular. You had each given each other a new meaning for the day. You, giving him a reason to fight on and live. And him, giving you a reason to celebrate life; the fact that he was still alive and with you, namely. 

Eventually, Fives opened his mouth to break the silence with a question, but froze when he glanced at you. You were passed clean out, mouth slightly ajar. Fives chuckled softly, enamored by the way the light of the tree danced across your skin. 

Carefully, he slid his arm behind your shoulders and the other below your knees. As he stood and scooped you in his arms, you stirred, mumbling that you could walk before promptly falling back asleep. 

Fives carried you through the living room, the mudroom, and upstairs to the bedroom, leaning to gently settle you on the bed. One by one, he unlaced and tugged your boots off, followed by your socks, then tucked you under the blankets. After placing a featherlight kiss to your head, he turned and headed back downstairs. 

Fives made sure the doors and windows were closed and locked, refilled the furnace, and made his way back to the foyer. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieved what he needed, and stepped back into the living room. 

He approached the Life Day Tree, pausing to absorb the beauty you added to his life, the joy you brought him in a single evening. After every separation you both endured during the war, then the worst separation of all, and you still loved him more than he felt worthy of. You were steadfast, funny, generous and kind, the most enchanting and incredible woman he’d ever met. And you chose him to love. Of all people in the galaxy, a soldier back from the dead.

More confident in his decision than ever, he crouched down and placed a small, square box under the tree. He leaned over to unplug the lights for the night and stepped back. 

Once back upstairs, he removed his hole-infested socks and climbed in bed next to you. He turned on his side, a quiet yet overwhelming contentment filling him as he refreshed his memory of every detail in your face. He itched to kiss you, to hold you close every hour of the night, but he dared not disturb your peace. 

Minutes ticked by and his eyes grew increasingly heavy. Fives fought sleep, afraid he might wake up and find the whole evening with you was a dream. Eventually he could fight it no longer, his eyes fluttering shut, falling into a more restful sleep than he’d had all year.

End Notes: Phew! That was a bit longer than I meant it to be! To be completely honest there was still a bit more I wanted to add, namely a few tidbits of Life Day itself, but I kinda love this ending and don't want to push it. I also ran out of steam lol. Not too shabby for my first Star Wars fic, I think. First fic since I was in high school, actually.

I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Life Day!

Dividers by @enchanthings and @strangergraphics

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Bruised and Battered

Kol Mikaelson Helping You Through An Injury Headcanons :

(Prepare for immense fluff)

Sweet baby Kol...

First of all, this boi would feel sooooooo awful about you getting hurt.

(How could this happen??? He left you alone for five seconds???)

He doesn't blame you at all whatsoever. Even if you were being dumb.

If it was someone else's fault...

Well, let's just say that if you broke an arm, this person would find both arms freaking shattered beyond recognition.

Is that useless hunk of flesh even an arm anymore? Nobody knows.

He does get a little frustrated with you tho. Just a bit

Why won't you take his blood? It would make this so much easier!

(news flash: that's nasty and you don't want to take no chances!)

It physically pains him when the doctors won't let him go back with you for x-rays. He can hear your whimpers of pain through the walls and it makes him want to cry. He just curls up in a ball and waits it out.

If you have to get surgery??

Heaven help the poor hospital staff...

It KILLS him that he can't be by your side the whole time.

Kol would be pacing back and forth in the waiting room, tugging at his hair and telling himself all the reasons you're gonna be fine. Over and over and over again.

He is there the second you wake up.

Technically he's not supposed to be, but if compulsion can't keep the nurses and doctors quiet then the cold chilling glare he dishes out certainly will.

Once you're home, you will not be doing anything for yourself.

Movies.

Anything you want to watch. All day. Even if he hates it.

Unlimited popcorn supply!

He will get you whatever you want to eat or better yet he'll compel someone else to do it so he doesn't have to leave your side.

So. Many. Hugs.

Cuddles.

Cuddles all the time

All the cuddles.

Seeing you in pain tortures him.

If he accidentally bumps you he will apologize ENDLESSLY.

He's always asking what he can do to make it better

He can't really do anything and that's the worst part

You just ask him to stay

He's only too glad to do just that.

Though he certainly remembers to give you your medication. Even if it's 1 AM. He never forgets.

He stays with you all through the night. Every night.

If you wake up in tears from sleeping wrong, he's right there to hold you close.

If it were up to him, he would never let you go.

Scars from surgery?

Kol would make it his mission to keep you from hating them.

He would tell you how cool they look all the time

Also, the gentlest kisses.

He would kiss every inch of those scars.

Endless "I love you"s

Don't think for a second that you're a burden because he will go into a 20 minute speech about how he has literally nothing better to do with his immortal existence.

When it's time for physical therapy, he always makes sure you can get to your appointments.

Kol would 100% compel the therapists to let him come back with you and cheer you on (even though seeing you struggle makes him want to scoop you up and hold you until the tears go away)

He always makes sure you do your exercises too. There is no amount of bribing that can sway this man. You are doing those exercises.

End. Of. Story.

So encouraging tho. The complements are ever flowing from his lips.

And again, all the cuddles after you finish.

Constantly making jokes.

"If I rip off one of your arms, that will make it better right? I mean, it will certainly distract you from the pain!"

Kol would also help you come up with an excellent story for how it happened.

Whether it be jousting on unicorns, fencing with glass blades, or assassinating the president, there is no limit to his creativity.

Kol would do literally anything to see you smile.

Special thanks to: @space-princess-charming

[lightofraye]

Friday the 15th

Despite the title of this post, no I'm not trying to make a kind of scary Friday the 13th (15th) thing. More... I have a huge life event coming up and the anxiety is getting to me.

It's a natural anxiety. When someone goes through something huge, they react in various ways. For a wedding, for example, it's a tremendous step. If they're 100% certain in that step, it's full of joy and perhap anxiety something will go wrong with the ceremony as opposed to anxiety about the person they're marrying. Moving across country can be anxiety inducing, despite the excitement and prospect of something new experiences.

Then there's surgery. Even the most minor of surgeries can be anxiety inducing because of what could go wrong. When I had a deviated septum fixed, the doctor actually outlined how it was a basic, minor surgery with potential for a lot of bad happening. So, you know, yay?

Now I have a new, terrifying surgery coming up. It's a necessary surgery, one that I had been forced to reschedule due to getting infected with influenza A just mere days prior. I was so sick that I was down and out of work for six weeks. It affected my voice (I still hear it time to time), my breathing, and I still wonder about the lingering symptoms I have. (Hard to tell if it's allergies or lingering influenza, honestly. But all tests say I'm fine, so...)

This surgery had been a long time coming. My doctor and I had been observing the symptoms, the cause of said symptoms, and it was only late last year that I decided it was time. The minor means of dealing with the issue weren't possible because the issue was too large--and those minor means were 1) extremely painful and 2) doesn't stop the issues from coming back.

I'm being very vague. So I'll say it outright now. What's the issue I'm referring to? Fibroids. Uterine fibroids, to be precise.

I had the issue start well over five years ago. Little minor symptoms that kept happening... and then kept staying. To the point where I gave up and tracked down my ob gyn because my mother had those symptoms that led to cervical cancer and I was not going to leave my young son alone to face his abusive father on his own.

Turned out, it wasn't cervical cancer. Or even uterine cancer. (Thank gods.) No... it was a fibroid. A growing fibroid, actually. Already by the time it was detected, a myomectomy was impossible. That'd work for small fibroids, and mine was already beyond the acceptable size. An ablation wasn't possible either, as the fibroid meant spots would be missed and the symptoms would continue.

My ob gyn had to refer me to a different ob gyn for a very simple, frustrating reason: it was a Catholic hospital and any treatment that'd work to stop the issues of the fibroid was against their policies.

Fortunately I found a great ob gyn and she agreed with my other ob gyn. We inserted a Mirena IUD to handle the biggest symptom--ongoing bleeding--and decided to monitor every six months. Every six months, it showed signs of growing. And growing.

Then it... stopped. So we decided that as long as the IUD was stopping the bleeding and I was doing okay, we'd just do a wait and see.

Well... late last year, it was getting worse again. Other symptoms appeared, too TMI for comfort, but let's say the bathroom and I were becoming too well acquainted.

So a hysterectomy was scheduled. It was supposed to have been the first week of April and I got hit with influenza late March. We waited until I felt better and other life events got sorted. We thought I'd be okay.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

I called my ob gyn and said "We need it out. It's getting painful." The fibroid was creating problems that are affecting me body-wide. Minor from weird ass chin hairs that were growing thick and repeatedly, something I never had before. (The fibroid is disrupting hormones on a very wide scale, much like PCOS.) To intense discomfort in my lower abdomen.

What's interesting are the other irrational thoughts happening. It's a discussing having been held before by other women who have also undergone such similar procedures.

Am I any less a woman for losing the uterus? The answer, naturally, is NO. Even if I were to lose my breasts as well as my uterus, I'm still a woman. Because I say I'm a woman. I lose pieces of the body to maintain the whole.

My health will be so much better for the loss of the uterus, especially as the fibroid will be gone and things settle on multiple layers. Hormones will be back to normal (after some disruption). The pain and discomfort will be gone. I presume that weird chin hair that keeps coming back will finally surrender the ghost.

Even so, it's a major life step. A major surgery that, thankfully, has become more routine. We're planning on using the daVinci Surgical System and hope no issues will occur. It's actually outpatient now, which has me stunned.

My daughter and daughter-in-law will monitor me after the surgery. The next few weeks after, I'll have to be careful with even light objects--I won't be allowed to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. (That's about 8 pounds, by the way.) That'll be frustrating for me, as I do a lot of heavy lifting on the regular.

But my health will be better. Eventually I'll heal. Eventually I'll celebrate no more purchases of hygiene products. I joked we'll have a "Yeet the Uterus" party, but we just might.

I'll never have to worry about unplanned pregnancies again, so that's something. Yes, even at my age, it can happen.

November the 15th is going to be a big day for me.

[alevicke]

Killers x GN!Reader with acne & low self esteem

-----

Reader has acne problems despite being an adult. Has some self esteem issues due to this. But your fave couldn't even care. What they love you for goes beyond that

Anna (The Huntress), Adiris (The Plague), Susie (The Legion) Pyramid Head (The executioner)

-----

TW: Obviously acne mention, depression. Please understand this is pretty self indulgent. I know what it is to go through this, it hurts but you aren't alone

Also, I have no beta reader nor anything, sorry if it’s not good!

-----

ANNA (THE HUNTRESS)

She is genuinely confused by your worries.

She actually doesn't really understand what's acne. In fact, she doesn't even believe it's something bad.

I mean, she faced puberty which is when she had more acne but... She wasn't around other humans or people to point it out or make her feel embarrassed of that. She was more concerned about hunting and surviving in the forest

Thing is... She actually has a lot of acne nowadays. She doesn't take care of her skin at all, only of wounds, and doesn't clean her face unless you really tell her to do it and... All that dust and dirt in her skin makes her have some acne issues

It's not like she really cares, she even has scars because she scratches them

She doesn't know she supposes to let them be

And, you know what? SCARS ARE COOL

In her eyes, she believes those are cool and are similar to freckles

To her eyes, you're the most beautiful person she has ever met. She loves every single thing of you, every single part and every single inch

Then, why would she dislike something you and she have in common?

You could try to explain it to her but... It just doesn't click on her. It's natural, it's human, it's lovable

She loves you the way you are

Still, her way of showing you love is basically keeping you in her arms for as long as possible. You know she’s clingy

She will kiss you the whole time, even more than normally. Expect to have slight bruises in your face from how many times she presses her face against yours (joking)

Oh, and she will huge you like a teddy bear. You’ll basically be carried like like a baby 24/7 until you smile and trust her words

She loves you <3

ADIRIS (THE PLAGUE)

Well, sadly, when it comes to insecurities, Adiris can be the queen

She 100% understands you and will be by your side. She's the sweetest person in the world when it come to these topics

She's soft with every single word. Gentle. She doesn't want to say anything that could upset you

But she wants you to know that she's there for you and she loves you

She understand your securities though

And you know she does

It doesn't matter how many times you tell her you love her. It doesn't matter how many times you tell how much you find her beautiful. And it doesn't matter how many times you kiss her

She's still scared

But bit by bit, she's learning and realizing that it's true and you see more than her scars, than her sickness and her wounds. You see more than her weaknesses. You see past what everyone finds disgusting

You see a soul, a loving woman who cherishes you with her whole heart and it aches her to see you suffer and struggle

But she's there for every second you feel insecure. And for every mean comment you say she will kiss you two times to prove you wrong

There is nothing you can say that can change her mind

But, truth being said, sometimes, you just want to let your feelings out... And for those times, she's there as well

English is not her native language but she's been in the realm for long enough for both of you to understand and communicate and when you need to talk, you know she's there

You can let every insecurity you have out and she's going to be there for you

She will stay quiet and hug you for all you want and reassure you that she's there for you

SUSIE (THE LEGION)

Although she had her skin issues when she was adolescent, she has perfect skin now

Well, one or two pimples when her period comes because hormones are a bitch and she hates it

But not because of the acne, it's just that she gets annoyed by all the blood she didn't ask for and dealing with it

Other than that she's always pretty happy around

That's until you decide to talk to her and tell her your insecurities...

Much like Adiris, it pains her to see you struggling for your self esteem and your appearance and wants to cheer you up by being by your side

She loves you the way you are and she hates you cannot see what she sees. She really wishes she could make you see through her eyes the beauty she sees in you

She's extremely worried especially when you talk about using a mask

At first, she thought it would be cute both of you use masks and didn't think too much into it

Until she realized that your reason behind it was to cover your face due to how embarrassed you felt

She could feel her heart break into pieces discovering that and she didn't want you to use a mask. Fck being tweenies with masks, she wants to see your beautiful face

(Although she hates seeing your face when you're suffering in trials when you both have to fight. Stupid Entity)

She won’t stop you if you really really want to use a mask, but she will strongly discourage it and would like you to take it off as soon as you both are together

After all, she wants to be able to caress your cheek without any problem, to kiss you and smush her face against you without anything interrupting or getting in the middle

She’s not really good when it comes to conversations so she’s most likely going to try to cheer you up with different things when you are feeling bad

Videogames, snacks, snuggling, even annoying Frank and pranking him if that could make you smile

You have been with Susie for long enough to be accepted into Legion so… Yeah, Julie and Joey are most likely going to help you

After everything, all she cares about is making you happy and smile

PYRAMID HEAD (THE EXECUTIONER)

Pyramid Head already has problems understanding human feelings and issues. He cannot even talk and communicate properly which has been a problem in your relationship several times. But you both can work it out

When you’re feeling sad, he doesn’t really understand what’s going on at first

He goes through all points that make sense in his mind first

Did someone hurt you? A bad trial? Did Danny bother you again taking photos without your permission? Did another survivor use you as a sandbag or tea bagged you while hooked?

Whatever it was, he was ready to get his hands dirty (and full of blood)

What he didn’t expect was to hear you say you felt bad about your appearance, about yourself

What do you even mean? He likes you the way you are. How come you don’t see it as well? He didn’t fall in love with others, he isn’t attracted to others, he’s surprised he cannot see your beauty as he does

And just for a few red marks and little wounds? He gets HUGE scars and wounds in trials. And he never thought they could be bothering besides the danger aspect which doesn’t really matter under Entity’s protection

But in all honesty, if it’s something that’s bothering you or making you feel bad, he is worried and wants to help you

He still doesn’t know and needs some guidance about how to help you though

He’ll try his own way of cheering you up. Most of them can include a bit of brutality though, like; Beating up whatever killer even dares to touch you in any trial, making a survivor chug their flashlight if they even dare to abandon you and similar stuff

He will also bring more gifts. Not the best, like dead flowers, but come on, he’s trying to cheer you up. And in his realm there aren’t many good things to pick from. Unless you want a broken student’s chair

He’ll make sure to pick you up and hug you way more often and while he cannot kiss you he’ll be gently cupping your cheek and softly caressing your lips with his thumb, as a sign that if he could he would really love to kiss you