#i missed out on half the album + blood in the water

[probablyaseamonster]

Went to a grandson concert in my hometown and had fun but had to leave early cuz I got stomach pains and got bored somehow

[dreamyreveriie]

𐙚 DROWNING OUT THE NOISE — PERCY JACKSON .ᐟ ˚⋆. ˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ ꒰ golden retriever!percy jackson x fem!black cat!reader — a riordanverse fic ꒱

— ordered﹔yes / no - here!! — ingredients﹔fluffy whipped cream, use of y/n, purpose use of lowercase alphabet soup, probably not well proofread, lmk if i missed anything! — wc﹔1.2k+ // 9.2 min average reading time — recipe﹔read the order above :) — cassie's tea time﹔YAYYAYAY FIRST REQUEST!! <3 ik campers can't usually use their phones since it sends out signals to monsters and all but i wrote it so the hephaestus cabin made electronics that don't attract monsters and all!! i also didn't know what to put for the photos above sooooo

﹙the cafe // dishes // menu // barista board﹚

y/n always wore her headphones. it was like her shield, a way to drown out the noise of the world around her. social anxiety was something she'd battled for as long as she could remember, and the headphones were her safe place — a place she would retreat into whenever she could.

going to camp half-blood was supposed to be different. it was like the perfect place for misfits and somewhere she could finally feel like she belonged, according to her satyr protector long ago. but on her first day, she found herself reaching for her headphones more than ever. she kept to the edges, avoiding eye contact and hoping to blend into the background. it was ironic; she felt like a misfit in a place full of misfits.

but percy jackson had a way of noticing things. and he noticed her.

percy had always been the kind of person who made friends easily, especially being the saviour of olympus and a son of one of the big three. he had a laid-back, golden retriever kind of personality. so when he spotted the girl, always with her headphones on and keeping to herself, he was naturally intrigued.

"hey," percy said one day, walking up to her after archery practice. y/n looked up, startled, and pulled one side of her headphones off.

"hi," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"sorry, i didn't mean to startle you. i'm percy," he said sheepishly, offering her a friendly smile. "i've seen you around."

"y/n," she introduced herself, fiddling with the cord of her headphones.

"cool headphones," percy remarked, hoping he could ease the tension. "whatcha listening to?"

y/n hesitated, not sure why the percy jackson would be talking to her. she took off her headphones, handing them to percy. percy accepted them with a smile, putting them on as the music flowed into his ear. "no way, you listen to them too?? i swear, i've never seen anyone listen to this artist. i like your taste."

she relaxed a little, a small smile appearing on her face. "i adore them, they're my favourite band ever."

percy couldn't help but grin as she smiled, happy that she relaxed even a little bit. "mine too. what's your favourite song by them?"

days turned into weeks, and percy made it his mission to break through y/n's walls. he started inviting her to join him by the lake, offering her training lessons or sometimes following her around like a lost puppy as she chuckled. slowly but surely, she began to come out of her shell.

one sunny afternoon, percy noticed y/n sitting alone under the shade of a tree by the lake. she gazed at the water as she listened to the music flowing from her headphones. percy approaches her with a wave.

"hey, y/n," percy greets.

"hey, percy." she looked up, giving him a smile and removing her headphones.

"mind if i join you?"

she shook her head, and he settled in beside her. "what're you listening to today?"

y/n handed him her headphones, and percy listened for a moment. "i love this album." he hums before handing the headphones back.

"why d'you always wear your headphones?" percy decides to ask, dipping his hands in the cool water. they always spent their free time there together, not that any of them complained. they enjoyed eachother's company. "you don't gotta answer." he added quickly, not wanting to intrude her privacy.

y/n took a deep breath. "they help me cope. with... pretty much everything. the noise, the people. it all gets too much sometimes." she admits softly, looking down at the headphones in her hands.

percy nodded understandingly. "i get it. everyone needs something to help them through tough times, y'know?"

"yeah," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "i appreciate, by the way. for being so nice to me. i know i'm not the easiest person to be friends with."

"are you kidding?" Percy snorted, shaking his head. "you're awesome. you just need someone to see it."

y/n blushed, looking away as a shy smile played on her lips.. "yeah, maybe."

from that day forward, their friendship only seemed to grow even further. percy was there for her every step of the way, helping y/n find her confidence that she never knew she had. in return, y/n's calm presence helped ground percy's impulsive nature. they balanced each other out perfectly.

y/n realised how much she'd changed. she wasn't the same girl who hid behind her headphones. she still wore them, but now they were like a part of her rather than a shield.

"thank you, percy," she said suddenly as they sat at the beach.

"for what?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"for helping me," she replied, meeting his eyes.

percy smiled, reaching out to take her hand. "always. we're in this together."

it wasn't long before percy realised his feelings for y/n. he wouldn't admit it to himself, though. all of their hangouts by the lake and beach, the times where they'd listen to their favourite artists together, or the times percy had held her hand as he taught her how to wield a sword.. no, it couldn't be.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, a golden glow casting over the camp, percy found himself standing at the edge of the lake, waiting for y/n at their spot. she arrived, headphones around her neck as usual, with a smile that warmed his heart. a smile that y/n knew percy liked, so she wore more often. they sat together, side by side, in comfortable silence.

"percy," y/n said quietly, her voice barely audible over the soft push and pull of the lake's water.

"yeah?" he replied, turning to look at her.

"why are you so nice to me?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

percy took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "because... i like you, y/n. i like spending time with you.uou make everything better. and, well, i.. i think you're pretty amazing."

y/n's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. "you do?"

percy nodded, staring down at the lake as he blushed. "yeah, i do. and i want to be there for you, always. if you'll let me."

she reached out and squeezed his hand. "i'd like that, percy. I'd like that a lot."

percy felt a wave of relief wash over him. he had been so nervous about confessing his feelings, but y/n’s response made it all worth it.

y/n turned to percy with a thoughtful expression. "you know, i never thought i’d find someone who understands me like you do."

percy smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "you’ve helped me too, you know."

"how?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"you’ve helped me slow down, appreciate the little things. you’ve shown me that it's okay to take a break and just be in the moment. otherwise i probably would've hurt myself." percy laughed.

y/n laughed along with him, smiling brightly "i'm glad."

percy found himself looking forward to their time together more than anything else. he appreciated every moment when he made her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her favorite music, and the peaceful silence they shared by the lake.

as they sat by the lake, y/n turned to percy with a serious expression. "you’ve helped me so much, percy. i don’t think i can ever thank you enough."

"you don’t have to thank me," he replied, squeezing her hand gently. "i’m just glad i could be here for you."

"i want to do something for you," she insisted. "anything. name it."

percy thought for a moment, then smiled. "just stay by my side and be yourself. that’s all i need."

— thank you for placing your order, and i hoped you enjoyed your meal! kisses from jvpiterzs <3 — cafe guest list﹔n/a

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Ch. 23/? April downpour

***

You take the midnight subway train

You're callin' all the shots

You're struck by lightning

You're in love

It's not worth fighting

You're in love

You betcha, Billy got the new Ratt's album as soon as it appeared in the stores. Well, in Hawkins there's just one music store in the whole town, but it's better than nothing. Billy is not a complete nutcase to miss out on something like that.

He's listening to it right now, the tape inserted in his Panasonic and volume set to maximum. Neil and Susan are fuck knows where, gone shopping most likely, so Billy can do the fuck he wants. In his room. The red haired leprechaun is having her friend over, the weird girl, it's not total freedom like when he's home alone.

The Panasonic's deck lid is still broken after Neil shattered it in February, but the boom box works just fine without one. Fuck you, dad.

Billy stretches out on the bed, with his arms thrown under the head.

The afternoon is pleasant enough.

You take the evening one on one

You're only livin' to have fun

You want to use me, take me home tonight

I'll make you wish that you were mine

You're struck by lightning

You're in love

It's not worth fighting

You're in love

That's the first song on the track list. The music is excellent, and the lyrics are good, but it .. sounds like an affirmation or some shit, recording the message deep in Hargrove's brain.

You're struck by lightning

You're in love

It's not worth fighting

You're in love

Through the rough chords and raspy vocals he hears distant thuds on the wall.

Heheehe that must be the shitbird. You can choke on your long damn hair, Max, I'm not turning the volume down. Get used to good music, stepsister. While I'm still around. Very, very soon it's gonna be adiós, farewell, never-planning-on-seeing-you-again.

The girls are sitting on Max's bed, all nice and cozy, with books spread out in front of them. They are trying to study for tomorrow's history test, but the dick who's in the next room, is making it simply impossible.

Max has had enough. She moves closer to the wall and bangs on it with her angry little fist

"Billy !! Turn it down! We can't do homework! We can't even talk! Turn it down!"

Glaring at the wall and addressing El

"He is SUCH an asshole. I wish he just .. disappeared!"

"But .. he drives you to school?" El is trying to stay on the bright side

"Yeah, well, I don't care. I can always take the school bus."

El is frowning slightly, taking her friend's words with a grain of salt. She is of the opinion, that it's actually cool to have a big brother who has such a badass car ready to drive you anywhere, at the snap of your fingers.

Max pounds on the wall some more.

No effect whatsoever.

Nope, no effect. The booming sounds are still too loud and too irritating.

Hargrove's lying on his back, leg on leg, shaking his foot which is on top, to the beat of the music. He's already through side One, and flipped the tape to side Two

Another blistering rock song comes on

 

I don't like your cheatin' misfit ways

I don't stand for givin' it away

Can't you see the world turn and hear the cries?

Can't you see you're burnin' me between the eyes?

You hardly notice

You're burning me between the eyes

 

Why are so many songs in this album about love? What the hell? Like there aren't other things to sing about

This one isn't bad

 

My blood is thicker than water

I'm livin' out my life

I'll have my friends forever

We'll walk the sands of time

You should know by now

I never take no chances

Don't stand for compromise

I'll find the hidden treasure

I'm only passin' by

 

Hargrove is definitely only passing by. In two and a half months he'll forget Hawkins fucking exists.

While Billy is innocently enjoying the new Ratt album in peace, the two girls have plotted to take some action. History still needs to be learnt. Loud music doesn't seem to be close to finishing.

Max and El creep to Billy's door. It's unlocked, and there's even a little crack left.

Maxine's stepbrother is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, a dumb smile on his lips. What an embarrassing idiot.

The girls don't know it - they shouldn't, no-one must know - but Billy is thinking about Harrington, of course.

Various moments flash through his mind, nothing in particular really. He's just picturing Steve's beautiful face. Harrington started wearing this dark gray jacket which looks so fucking good on him. He's also trying something different with his hair, giving it more volume, and it's captivating to watch it bounce.

Hargrove's been lying on his bed like that for almost an hour already.

Max pushes the door a little.

Billy is still ceiling-gazing, hands comfortably tucked under the head, a dreamy dopey expression on his face.

The album's first track is playing again.

What? It's a nice song. He wants to listen to it one more time.

The new album is alright. Too many lyrics are about stupid feelings, but the sound is good.

You're struck by lightning

You're in love

It's not worth fighting

You're in love

Max carefully opens the door wider, and Billy sees the little rat peeping

Dammit.

Two rats, not just one. A fucking rodent invasion, no less.

He reaches out for the volume control to turn it down, so that he can bark out

"Hey! How long have you two been standing there ??"

Max scrunches her nose

"What are you doing? What are you even listening to?"

El is curiously taking a peek from behind her.

"Not your damn business, Maxine!"

"We just want you to make it down! We can't do homework!"

Billy's rolling his eyes.

"Tough luck, pea-brain. Like studying is gonna make you smarter, uh-huh."

"You're a moron yourself!"

"Close the door! Frigging spy!"

Max is feeling braver with El by her side and opts for getting on her stepbrother's nerves a bit more

"What's with the song? Are you in love or something?"

"Shut the damn door, you stupid gremlin! Stop sticking your nose in my life!"

"Nobody cares about your life! Just turn the music down, asshole!"

"SHUT THE EFFING DOOR, MAXINE!"

El is whispering in Max's ear from behind her back

"He is so mean."

Max gives a careless shrug

"He is always mean."

Billy picks up a book and throws it at the door, aiming at the obnoxious redhead who's making his existence so much worse

El shrieks and Max closes the door quickly, dodging the bullet. The volume is immediately turned back up again

"He's so stupid. I hate him so much." Max hisses and takes El by the hand

"Let's go find something to eat."

"Okay. Who is gremlin?"

"Oh you haven't seen "Gremlins"? We should totally have a movie night!"

The girls go to the kitchen where the sounds of Billy's annoying music are not so ear-splitting.

***

On ao3

❤️

[orion-lake]

Happy New Year! I wanted to shout out “some” posts of 2022 that I really loved. I want to say thank you to all fellow gif makers to put in the time and effort to share their creations. 

Please do not feel bad if you’re not on the list. I have a running queue on my blog, so my post number per month is fairly huge. So I may just have missed your post. 

Feel free to share, and please, if you like a post, please reblog and share the love.

January 2022

Morgana Pendragon ▶ Season 3, Episode 02: “The Tears of Uther Pendragon: Part Two” - @katieskeep

YENNEFER APPRECIATION WEEK | favorite outfit - @yenvengerberg

— New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift - @antoniosvivaldi

WOLF MOON | S1E1 - @teenwolfgifs

February 2022

‘cause we never go out of style… - @jumpthensfall

HAPPY 32ND BIRTHDAY TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT - @newrcmantlcs

March 2022

the wheel of time gifset - @scinnlaece​

allison argent gifset - @bericas​

bau ladies + tarot cards - @cabotism (deactivated)

HARRY POTTER film series based on the novels by the same name (2001-2011) - @yourstarfuckerworld  (deactivated)

stiles stilinski & lydia martin TEEN WOLF (2011-2017) - @crazysjane (deactivated)

MISTY & NATALIE in Yellowjackets | Season One [insp] - @queencalanthes

April 2022

Charmed | Patty & Prue & Piper | Head Above Water - @littletonpace

NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES: The Marauders - @some-people-call-it-tragic

Man the boundaries. Protect us. Do your duty to our school. - @hermoiine

THE DORA MILAJE aka “THE ADORED ONES” - @rachelschu (deactivated)

May 2022

ALL MY GIRLS LIKE TO FIGHT. - @bericas

↳ ingrid, the snow queen - @thewildmother

hogwarts houses common rooms aes - @ostara-goddess

harry potter meme: [1/3] colours. teal - @19-17

laura’s 10k celebration (top 30 ships as voted by my followers) ✵ 21 ➳ buffy summers & spike - @katherineebishop

HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE (2009) dir. David Yates - @mike-mills

June 2022

i got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined - @learned-civility

the big seven + planets symbolism (insp.) - @hermiione

July 2022

doctor who appreciation week day three ☆ favorite season/era  - @benoitblanc

Taylor Swift in 2021 - @wishfulthinkinglove

AU SPUFFY - they can be a romcom if they want - - @l0veisntbrains

taylor swift gifset - @treachreous

August 2022

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) - @drsattlers

↳ SCOOBY-DOO (2002) dir. Raja Gosnell - @wakandasforever

— Taylor Swift on 💜 Last Kiss 💜 - @antoniosvivaldi

September 2022

#MetalMonday | ✟ Rest in Peace ✟ (Dorothy) - @x--daughters-of-darkness--x

October 2022

TEEN WOLF APPRECIATION WEEK ☽ day one: female character(s) - @unspokenstydia

MERLINWEEK2022 | DAY 02 Favourite scene or season : season 04 (insp) - @thebookluvrr1816

#the journey - @payidaresque

MERLIN WEEK 2022 day 1: favourite character ➛ arthur pendragon + dnd character sheet (in/sp.) - @arthurpendragonns

DAILYMARVELSTUDIOS 5K CELEBRATION: FAVORITE MARVEL DYNAMIC - @dailymarvelstudios

November 2022

Bridgerton Siblings + Love Interest - @marlenadia

laura’s 11k celebration (top 40 characters as voted by my followers) ✵ 40 ➳ emma swan - @katherineebishop

Grace & Frankie + final scenes - @jakeperalta

Vampire Appreciation Week [2022] October 27th ~ Favourite Vampire/Vampire Dynamic - @sulietsexual

Bridgerton Couples + Tropes - @marlenadia

VAMPIRE APPRECIATION WEEK 2022 - day one: favorite vampire CAROLINE FORBES - The Vampire Diaries (2009-2017) - @naiey

December 2022

EDWINA & KATE SHARMA — The Sun & The Moon - @gifshistorical

WEDNESDAY CHARACTERS as TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUMS - @reputayswift

favorite non-romantic dynamic MISS EDWINA AND QUEEN CHARLOTTE - @edwinadaily

WEDNESDAY (2022) + RAINBOW - @usergif

marvel characters - @annelisters

WELL! THE PLAN HAS SOME FLAWS, ADMITTEDLY. - @phoebehalliwell

Favorite Romantic Pairing — Colin and Penelope Bridgerton - @wandarogers

WEDNESDAY: SEASON 1 (2022) - @vanessacarlysle

[palilalia]

PAL-072 WATT LP

“Recorded in Miami 1989-1991”

BUY LP — tinyurl.com/59f39x2x "I was hanging out with Bill Orcutt at the 930 Club nearly 30 years ago, watching a famous post-rock band (who shall remain nameless, but whose moniker contained two- and-a-half times more articles and conjunctions than nouns) when he said: "This band is like my band in college -- all major 7th and 9h chords." I relate this to emphasize that in the case of Bill Orcutt and Harry Pussy, the seemingly untutored ooze of "Please Don't Come Back From the Moon" and "Girl With Frog" had its genesis in something far more Apollonian than is usually understood. It's debatable whether or not Watt, the duo of Orcutt and drummer Tim Koffley featured on Recorded in Miami, is the above- referenced grad-school band. Watt is not resplendent with jazz chords, but it's certainly more tutored, offering a mannered link between the contemporaneous Thunders-esque punk of Orcutt's Trash Monkeys and Harry Pussy's mayhem. The continuity with Harry Pussy is more than temporal -- Recorded in Miami is Orcutt’s first use of the four string guitar, and Harry Pussy claimed the same amp and drum kit. The resemblance more or less ends there. To further put Recorded in Miami -- made on Orcutt's Walkman, Rat Bastard's North Miami studio, and South Miami’s Natural Sound (total bill $289) -- into context, consider the fecundity of the underground music world as the '80s rolled into the '90s. It's hard to relate to those who missed it, but it was a time when post-hardcore hadn't quite given way to the bloat of grunge, when the Minutemen held sway (for the moment) over Led Zeppelin. The indie world was ruled by an ever-propagating compost heap of jagged guitar bands like TFUL282, Truman's Water, and (to crank it back a couple years) Phantom Tollbooth. And in some ways (although Orcutt swears Watt's prime influences were James Blood Ulmer and Fred Frith's Massacre), this record seems very much cut from that decade-ending cloth, seemingly only one vocal overdub away from a Homestead catalog number. Track after track (mostly titled after episodes of Art Clokey's slyly Buddhist TV masterwork, Gumby), Recorded in Miami's tracks spill over with right angles, rockist tropes, and verse/ chorus structures, from the Minutemen-oid funk of "Band Contest" to the stroked Moore-Ranaldoisms of "The Young and the Decoding." Yet Orcutt's fretboard-spanning angular melodic runs are right up front in the latter, and the final two tracks introduce a bit of the explosive chaos that would follow when Adris finally claimed the drum kit. Consider "Wattstock," where Koffley forms the bedrock for an extended Orcutt hotbox of instantly-composed harmolodics. Or "God Are You There, It's Me, Watt," where we can hear the spontaneous vocal bursts (the only vocals on the album) that would re-emerge on Orcutt's early solo records. Watt began to crumble when Koffley, as drummers will do, yearned for rhythmic grids of increasing complexity, while Orcutt instead wanted to "smoke more pot and improvise." For a few records with Harry Pussy, Orcutt would get his wish (though some of the structuralism of Watt would creep into later records). But we shouldn't regard Recorded in Miami as mere transitional scraps of juvenalia, or stunt-rock delivered for the mere thrill of pulling it off. Rather, it's an early, major piece of the unfolding and complex puzzle of Orcutt's music. A foundation. And without the earth beneath our feet, how can we ever reach the sky?" -- TOM CARTER 

[king-of-kaoss]

ty for tagging :D

there haven't been a ton of new albums on my radar since WOTP came out, buuuuut Back to the Water Below is coming out in less than 2 weeks and i've been listening to the 2 singles since they came out. Royal Blood doesn't miss, so i knOw this is gonna be my next obsession.

Nanna [from Of Monsters and Men] put out a debut solo album a few months ago called How to Start a Garden, which is lovely and is singlehandedly sprucing up my library with icelandic lyrics [Seabed]

Romy of the xx is also releasing a debut solo album in a few weeks, and Loveher, a wlw edm track, is sooooo good.

And I think the last release i got rly into since WOTP and The Car would have to be DOOM by Cleopatrick. I got to see them supporting royal blood last time i saw them and they're fantastic, another drum/bass duo, heavy, moody, amazing vocals.

and i wanna give an honorable mention to Sudan Archives' Natural Brown Prom Queen. half of it is too horny for my ace ass to vibe with but then homemaker, yellow brick road, #513, FLUE, and selfish soul are just absolutely excellent.

tagged by the most special @cactustreesmotel to list my top 4 albums of the moment! merci mon amie!

clockwise from top left: notre-dame-des-sept-douleurs by klô pelgag; my back was a bridge for you to cross by anohni; creation never sleeps, creation never dies by willie dunn [compilation album], and every valley by public service broadcasting

Tagging @ohthoumylovelyboy @magentagalaxies @souplover13 @salarycap @4trackcassette if you'd like to do it!

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, the bombshell

Was Harry nervous? No. A little. Maybe. He didn’t realize he was, at least, until he heard the buzzing of someone at his gate, he cleared his throat and then pressed the button near the front door. “Hey–it should open now.”

“Thanks!” she said, voice muffled through the speaker/ Harry peered out the window and watched her pull further up the driveway. He looked at himself in the mirror quickly. Hair? Check. Casual but still presentable outfit? Check.

He hung back, met her at the door to make it seem like he hadn’t just been sitting in his living room waiting for her to arrive.

She lifted her sunglasses and Harry smiled when he pulled the door open.

“Hi,” he said. “Find your way okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, coming up the front steps. “It vaguely felt familiar, I definitely remember drunkenly looking out the windows on the ride home.”

Harry laughed, a rush of relief when he realized she was being cool about it. So often Harry found himself hanging out with girls who tried too hard, made themselves too available, but then tiptoed around like they weren’t throwing themselves at him.

Y/N, apparently, had enough courage to just come out with it, as if to say, we slept together, so what?

Harry stepped aside and held the door open, allowing her to step into the foyer. The last time she’d been here there were passed horderves and plenty of booze. She smiled when she looked around, Harry felt a flush on his cheeks.

“I’d give you a tour, but you’ve already seen it.”

She bit back a smile. “I also remember it all from, you know, sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“Right, very rude of you, really,” he smiled, crossed his arms over his chest. An awkward pause.

“I would have reached out, but, I dunno–I guess I thought you didn’t want me to since you left.”

She parted her lips to speak but then paused, shrugged and said: “No–I was just, I didn’t want to impose.”

Harry let his eyes sweep up and down her figure and realized that out of all the girls he’d spent the night with, he wished she’d been the one to stay. “Well, you missed what would have been a delicious breakfast.”

Quiet for a second, she smiled up at him but then dropped her gaze to the floor. “Listen–uh, I actually have something to tell you.”

He tilted his head to the side, a curious smile on his face as she twisted a ring on her finger. She almost looked like she was about to apologize, admit she’d freaked out and backed out and maybe even been thinking about him ever since. But then he noticed the emotion on her face, the water that had pooled in her eyes. His expression changed, furrowed brows and a twitch in his lips before the biggest bombshell of all time:

“I’m pregnant.”

Harry gulped, a thousand thoughts and questions and a steadily raising heartbeat as he stammered. “Uh–I–,” he shook his head, blinked a few times, almost like he didn’t quite understand. “Because of us?”

A single nod. One that looked guilty and unsure and mostly, terrified.

Harry’s mouth was dry, the world around him slowed to a pause. His job, his album, his family, his fans…but, standing in front of him was a girl he barely knew, the emotion raw on her face when she blinked back tears and stared up at him like the next words out of his mouth could shatter her entire universe.

“You’re sure?”

Seriously? That’s what he settled on?

Another nod. She reached into her purse and pulled out two pieces of paper, stapled together in the corner and folded in half to fit inside. She pushed them towards him. “Here–I, uh, I have these.”

He blinked again, took them in his hands and looked down at the numbers and words that must have been in a foreign language. He licked his lips and then rubbed at his neck. “What’s all this mean?”

“It’s just the test results. I did two myself, you know, the pee on a stick ones. Then a urine sample at the doctor and a blood test, too. Four positive results.”

Harry nodded, though he couldn’t really comprehend what she was saying. Positive? A baby? His? Was he getting punked? Surely this was a joke, Jeff and Glenne had put her up to it, and she certainly deserved an Oscar for her performance.

He was quiet, the lack of noise and words seemed to make Y/N ansty, she shifted on her feet and then Harry realized he should probably say something.

But she beat him to it: “I’m sorry–I was–we used a condom, I don’t know how it happened.”

He looked up quickly from the papers, tears on her cheeks and a shaky voice. Had he not put the condom on? He was sure he did, he always did. Did it break? He didn’t remember any issues, didn’t even really remember taking it off or falling asleep after.

Harry tried to recall the night only a few weeks back, but the tequila and the rum and the intoxicating way she laughed when he kissed her neck didn’t aid his memory, even if it was his most recent sexual encounter.

A change of course when Harry came back to the present moment. He couldn’t just believe her, could he? Were the laboratory results and the medical gibberish on the papers enough to prove that this was real and Harry wasn’t dreaming?

He needed to see it with his own eyes. “Will you, uh, take a test in front of me?”

She straightened up at that, confused. “W-what?”

“It’s just, to be sure. I don’t–sometimes people do this to people like me, and–”

“Are you insinuating that I’m–” she looked around, brought her eyes back to his and looked at him like he was crazy. “Making this up?”

Maybe he was crazy.

“It’s not you–I would ask that of anyone.” He cringed at his own words, was that supposed to make her feel better?

He wasn’t trying to offend her, wasn’t trying to imply that she was full of shit or completely mental or anything of the sort. Instead, Harry was doing what he’d been trained to do: identify the logical next step and think like a polished, poised, public-figure that had a lot riding on every single breath he took.

She was quiet, presumably mulling over his words or his reaction, filling in the blanks and likely feeling just as nauseous as he was. Harry felt like he was hallucinating, honestly. All of the air had been sucked out of the room and the rest of the world ceased to exist. Just Harry, Y/N, and the tiny embryo in her uterus.

His eyes glanced down to the button on her jeans, a brief thought about diapers and childbirth and that funny lamaze breathing that he’d seen in videos in middle school health class.

He cleared his throat. “Look–someone will make us do that anyway. Jeff or someone would insist that I have more proof. And I can’t just tell them I took your word for it.”

She was angry now, a shake of her head in disbelief.

“I mean–fine, I can show you the two I already took,” she said, hands on her hips. “I’ll take another, and you can see it, if you want.”

He nodded, guilt lacing his words. “Yeah, m’sorry, that’s just probably for the best.”

“I don’t suppose you have any pregnancy tests lying around here, do you?”

He flinched at her tone, shook his head. “No--I can--we can go get one?”

“I have one at home.”

“Should we go there?”

“I guess so,” she softened a little, a sigh from between her lips when Harry reached for his keys on a hook nearby.

“I can drive, you can leave your car here, if you want.” She hesitated for a second, about to decline his offer when he offered her a smirk. “You just drove all the way here, so--I don’t mind.”

So they climbed in the car and Y/N pointed him in the direction of her tree-lined neighborhood, her anxiety was palpable for the entirety of the forty-minute drive. Small talk about work, his album, awkward silences at red lights until he put it in park and followed her up the walkway.

She pushed the door open and called out to her roommate, hi!, as Harry stepped inside timidly. A coat rack to the left, a sliding door to a tiny backyard straight ahead.

Lexi appeared in the doorway of what Harry guessed was her bedroom, houseplants and an orange sofa stood between them. “Hey! How’d it–” her eyes landed on Harry, “oh.”

That’s when it hit him–Lexi knew. Lexi–who Harry had known for at least three or four years now–offered a wave in his direction and switched gears to save him the embarrassment. “Hi, Harry.”

He offered her a tiny smile in exchange, subtle acknowledgement that this chance encounter was anything but. “Hi Lexi.”

“He wants me to pee on a stick again,” Y/N said flatly, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter before heading through the living room. Was she always this grumpy?

Lexi pulled her head back, a smirk on her face when she turned to Harry. “Really?”

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to know what could happen if I believed every woman who’s ever said that to me?”

“There’s been multiple?” Lexi looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well–like, two. But they were both absolutely mental.”

Y/N walked into the bathroom and knelt down, digging through the cabinet below the sink for another test. Harry felt like he was intruding, couldn't help but let his eyes wander around the modest two-bedroom house tucked beneath the hills, Lexi watched him with a smirk on her face.

Y/N put a hand on the doorknob, “well, I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Harry said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants, a pause when he tried to tread lightly. “Can I–uh–come in?”

Lexi’s face twisted. “You wanna watch?”

Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks. No, not like that. Harry was used to thinking like Jeff. WWJD had a whole different meaning.

What would Jeff say, do, think, want, feel, advise? You name it, Harry thought it. Jeff was a good manager and a better friend. Of all the people he’d have to face with this news, he was most nervous about Jeffrey. And there was no way Jeffrey (or his lawyers, for that matter) would settle for I believe her.

“Well, how do I know that you’re not pregnant and she’s using your, you know, sample?”

Lexi looked over at Y/N and raised her eyebrows, Harry realized he was quite possibly witnessing telepathy in action.

“Fine,” Y/N said, defeated. “Come over here.”

He stepped into the bathroom beside her and offered an uncomfortable smile, squeezing by when she shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at his hands. She pulled down her pants, sat, and then waited.

Harry counted the seconds, one, two, three, four. He looked up, back down at the floor, then back up. Where was he supposed to look? “Well–are you gonna go?”

“I need a second,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not used to peeing in front of strangers.”

“M’not a stranger,” he defended quickly, wounded by the label she chose. They’d met numerous times, shared (what Harry thought had been) an extremely enjoyable night together and had a bunch of mutual friends. And now he was reduced to a stranger?

Y/N made a face, dismissed his comment silently when she exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. He watched her for a second, wondered if she was upset with him for more than just wanting some tangible proof.

Was it his fault? Should Harry have known better? Should he have not invited her upstairs or should he have called sooner? He ran through the different scenarios, but the truth was, Harry didn’t know why or how or even when, aside from a general window of penetration that now felt tainted.

She was still sitting there, not peeing, when Harry peered back up at her. “Here,” he reached up to twist the faucet, a stream of water fell into the sink.

That helped. She held the stick in place and capped it when she was done, placing it on the counter. She flushed and stood up as if this was all in a day’s work. Harry stood, too.

“Now we wait?”

She leaned forward to wash her hands. “Doesn’t take long–apparently I’m super pregnant.”

He let out a bit of a laugh at that, a tension breaking chuckle in the tiny bathroom before he picked it up. He pushed out his lips in concentration and stared at the tiny window.

Maybe this one would be negative. Maybe this was a terrible dream and Harry would wake up from a hard nap and realize he’d sweat right through his t-shirt.

No such luck.

“Plus sign,” he flipped it towards her, eyes scanning over her face.

She nodded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Quiet for a second, Harry’s brain went into business mode again. Call Jeff? Call his mom? Cancel the album? Call off the tour?

“I’m sorry,” she said, emotion in her voice again when Harry’s eyes met hers. “We used a condom.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant on her own. “You don’t have to–we didn’t mean to. Aren’t you on birth control?”

She nodded. “I was switching to a new one around then–but my doctor said it should be just as effective.”

Again, Harry nodded like her words made sense but he couldn’t really understand anything she said. His heart was beating and his palms felt clammy. He felt like the bathroom walls were closing in, he blinked a few times when he realized she was still talking.

“I don’t know what to do--”

“Me neither–I mean, I’m supposed to put out this album and then go on tour and I’ve never–”

A knock on the door, Lexi pushed it open, an inquisitive look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“No,” they both spoke at the same time.

“Oh good,” Lexi said sarcastically to Harry, “you’re losing your shit over it too!”

“S’not exactly the best timing, right now, Lexi.” He stepped past Y/N on the white tile, slipping out of the bathroom and making his way to the living room. He paced, just like he had the other day on the phone with her. Back then he was excited, relishing in the anticipation of seeing her again.

Now he felt nauseous and terrified and guilty and, frankly, like he wanted to rewind, press pause, and not have sex with her, even if he’d replayed the night a few times since then out of pure pleasure.

“It’s not good timing for me either, if you were wondering!”

He turned around quickly to see Y/N with her arms crossed over her chest, clearly bothered by his words.

“I know–I didn’t mean it like that, I just–you’ve had a few days to sit with this, right? M’just finding out now, so excuse the panic.”

She took a breath, watched as he paced on the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. He stopped suddenly, looked up to Lexi.

“Does Glenne know?”

She looked over to Y/N, Harry’s eyes followed as he filled in the blank. What’d she do? Call her friends immediately? Did the whole world know except for Harry?

More panic when neither of them answered.

“Great–so Jeff knows! Is that why he hasn’t returned my phone calls?”

“Jeff doesn’t know,” Y/N said quickly. “She promised not to tell him until I talked to you.”

Fuck! Harry’s stomach flipped. Glenne couldn’t keep a secret and Jeff wouldn’t be able to keep calm. “And you believed her?! She can have quite the mouth, for fuck’s sake!”

“She didn’t say anything, relax,” Lexi tried to settle him. “I talked to her a while ago. She’s freaking out, too.”

Harry flopped down on the couch, a big sigh before he looked up at Y/N again. “Are you–do you want to keep it?”

Silence. Lexi waited for her answer, too.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded, the question felt big and serious and fucking wild. A baby? His baby? With her? Right now?

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

He nodded again, eyes still wide. “Okay.”

She came to sit on the couch beside him, their knees touching when she said: “can you just breathe, with me, for a second?”

He took a deep breath, noticed how his heartbeat slowed when he looked her in the eyes.

“Sorry–I just, this is big.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “For me too.”

“Yeah.”

Lexi was still stood in the center of the room, watching the scene unfold. When Harry looked up at her, she tilted her head. “I was gonna order a pizza–are you guys hungry?”

“Starving,” Harry said, he thought they’d never ask.

Lexi sprung into action, a take out menu, she disappeared in the other room and called to place the order. Y/N walked over to the kitchen and got him a glass of water, he noticed a painting on the wall of a lemon tree. They sat there in silence for a few seconds until Harry broke.

“I’m--uh--I’m sorry to be so—”

“Freaked out?” She smiled a little, timid in her teasing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, a tired laugh when he rubbed his eyes. “I just--I don’t know. I’ve worked so hard to avoid something like this and--” he noticed the way her face faltered. “Not you--I mean getting someone pregnant, I don’t--I should shut up.”

She shook her head, a small laugh at herself. “No, I get it. This isn’t how I envisioned my life either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I am,” he nodded, serious.

Lexi re-emerged, a look on her face like she knew she was interrupting. One veggie and one plain, hope that’s alright.

He sat at the table and ate pizza with them, asked about Lexi’s show and asked about Y/N’s job. More small talk as they all pretended that this was normal. Three friends, eating pizza, laughing about the trials and tribulations of their mid-twenties.

Harry wondered if her stomach flipped the same way his did when he saw the plus sign on the plastic stick.

He dipped out before 10pm, said he’d come back in the morning so Y/N could get her car. He drove home in silence, the same few thoughts on repeat: what should we do, how do we handle it, can we make it work, who should we tell, what happens now?

He stood in the shower and watched the water collect by the drain, climbed into bed and wondered if he’d ever feel normal again. Maybe, but probably not.

The drive felt quicker the next morning, the same street and the same house and the same nerves in his stomach when the phone rang. Hey, it’s me, I’m outside.

She locked the door behind her and smiled when she settled into the passenger seat.

“Hi–oh, hi,” the seatbelt lurched forward on it’s own, she jerked her hand away. “Glenne’s doesn’t do this.”

“S’the newer model.”

She made a face at that.

“Are you hungry? I know you need your car, but I figured we could grab something to eat.”

Hesitance, then she looked at him quickly. “Sure, yeah.”

He accelerated, stole a glance in her direction once he was further down her street. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t know how to ask the right questions. “Like–you’re not nauseous yet, are you?”

“Oh–” she stopped to think about it. “No. But food tastes funny–kind of metallic, almost? I don’t know if that’s related. I’m only four weeks at this point, that’s what the email from Dr. Weston said.”

“Dr. Weston?”

“My OBGYN.”

“Right. When did you see her?”

“Wednesday.”

Three whole days ago. Harry already felt like he was missing out. He’d listened to her talk about it the night before, the gown, the posters on the wall, the faint doctor’s office smell.

A left turn out of her neighborhood. “When do you go again?”

“Next week. She said we can talk about options.”

He didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to intrude or impose or make her uncomfortable. After all, she’d reduced him to a stranger. He chanced it anyway. “Oh–should I, maybe, come to that?”

She shifted in her seat, a heavy pause before she answered. “If you want, yeah.”

He nodded, quiet for a little as he drove. She looked out the window and even though she wore sunglasses, Harry could feel her eyes flutter over to him every once in a while. His did the same, but only when he was sure she wasn’t looking.

He eventually turned into a parking lot for a small cafe–one that he frequented and one that felt quiet and cozy. “The scones here are really good.”

She trailed behind him towards the patio and looked at him like he was crazy. “Scones are probably the worst breakfast pastry.”

“What?” His voice raised in pitch at her obviously uncultured opinion. He pulled out his chair and sat, a casual outfit of athletic shorts and a sweatshirt. Sunglasses–for disguise.

“Yeah,” she said, a bored shrug. “Too dry. Muffins are much better.”

He didn’t reply, smiled a bit at the way she challenged him and picked up the menu that the hostess had dropped off. He took a sip of his water before looking up at her. “Look, I want to just tell you I’m sorry for freaking out last night. I know this isn’t easy for you, either.”

She nodded, let out a sigh as if she was confessing. “It’s not ideal for either of us, I guess.”

He fumbled with the straw wrapped between his fingers, nervous to ask but more nervous to hear her answer. “What are your thoughts on–” he paused, decided he needed to just spit it out. “Ending it?”

She let her eyes glance down to the menu again, a casual shrug when she pulled them back up. “I don’t know–it would probably be easier.”

He couldn’t decide if he believed her. He was worried, mostly, that she’d lie and say she didn’t want to keep it just because she was afraid to be honest. Harry tried to level with her.

“You don’t have to. That’s a big decision. I just didn’t know what your thoughts were–in general.”

“I don’t really know what they are,” she said honestly. “What are yours?”

He laughed a little, he’d spent most of the car ride this morning determining how to ask. He hadn’t taken much time to think about what he’d do when she turned the question around. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to think much about it.”

The waitress appeared, a look of shock when Harry smiled up at her, the realization spread over her face before she scribbled down their orders.

Pink on his cheeks when she left, that was probably something Y/N would have to get used to.

“Sorry.”

She offered a smirk, “I’m surprised you can be in the sunlight without people following you around.”

He rolled his eyes, let out a playful sigh. “Some days are better than others. This spot is typically safe, though.”

The same waitress delivered coffees quickly, a smile in his direction and Harry wondered what it would be like to sit here with a baby in a stroller beside him.

“So–who have you told, again?”

“Just Lexi and Glenne. And my mom.”

“No one else?”

“No,” she reached for the sugar. “Have you told anyone?”

“No. I just went to bed last night and tried to sleep.”

He also found himself googling baby names, browsing Amazon for books about pregnancy, and he signed into Jeff’s facebook to do a deep dive of Y/N’s profile, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“They say you’re not supposed to tell people, you know–before it’s too soon.”

“Right, what is it? Three months?”

“Yeah–twelve weeks,” she said. “That’s when something is likely to happen. But, look–” she wrapped her hands around her mug now, bracing for impact. “I get it, if you can’t do this. No matter what I end up doing, I won’t be mad if you’re not able to be around.”

Harry looked up at that, caught off guard by her bluntness and her honesty and, overall, how certain he was that he’d never even consider not sticking around. “I wouldn’t do that–I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but, come on. I mean–you’re busy and this doesn’t really align with your--” she motioned up and down his torso, “lifestyle.”

He quirked an eyebrow, almost challenging her with a smirk. “And what do you know about my lifestyle?”

She picked up a spoon and stirred the coffee. “Well–I don’t know. I just, I don’t want you to feel like this means you’re, you know, trapped.”

He nodded, thinking. He licked his lips and pushed his mouth to one side. “I appreciate that.”

Their plates were delivered, an omelet, a scone, a green smoothie, and then Harry looked up at her again. “So, when did you take the first test?”

“Tuesday. At work,” a roll of her eyes in jest. “I probably looked super pathetic crying in the bathroom.”

That made Harry’s heart sink. He pictured her, alone, hiding in a stall or clamping a hand over her mouth in shock. No one there, a quiet and sterile setting, the same disbelief that had washed over him.

At least he had her. At least she was there to talk him off the ledge and to remind him to breathe when he planted himself on her sofa last night.

“M’sorry that you--y’know--found out like that.”

She looked up at him, smiled at his apology. “I have a feeling it would have been rough no matter where I was.”

“Right,” he admitted.

She did the same thing as the night before, breezing gently into safe topics: Glenne, Jeff, Lexi’s show, a party they’d all been at before the one at Harry’s. She told him about a project she was heading at work and a book she read over the winter.

He almost wanted to hug her when she stood in his driveway later that morning, car keys in hand. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You should have tried the scone,” he teased.

“M’all set,” she laughed a little, heading for her car. He followed her over, watched as she climbed in and offered an awkward smile, about to shut the door.

“When was that appointment again? With Dr. Westfield?”

“Weston,” she corrected. “Thursday, 4pm, I think.”

He nodded, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Okay–I’ll come.”

table of contents | talk to me | the playlist

AN: hi hello!!!!! The second installment of H’s POV! Sorry for any crappy formatting as I’m posing this from mobile! 💜 lmk what you think!

[cherryyharryy]

angst to fluff where y/n finds out she was originally just supposed to be a rebound type thing after he broke up with someone like idk something like he broke up with someone on the european leg of tour and she was supposed just be with him until he went on another leg but then he started to love her and brings her on the rest of tour with him and she finds out abt the rebound thing after the last show of tour where everyones drunk and celebrating and one person lets it slip

I tweaked it just a bit...hope that's ok:)

WC: 3.5K

****

“You look beautiful.”

I skim my nose across Harry’s cheek, his chin resting on my shoulder, and hum against stubble that wasn’t there this morning. “You’ve said that five times tonight.”

“And?” He slips around to face me.

His suit is a deep maroon, probably black if you’re far away, probably purple if you’ve had too much champagne. His chest expands when I slide my hand down.

“Love this dress.” He takes my hand off and pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my head.

“You two forget where you’re at?” Another foreign voice surrounds us, well, foreign to me.

“Fucker,” Harry says to the man. They pat each other’s backs as the guy walks away. “Tyler Johnson.”

“Oh.”

“He worked with me on the last album.”

“Okay.”

It’s like the fifteenth person that I’ve been introduced to tonight, all of whom pass by with quick hellos, inside jokes with Harry, and little interest in me. The fast paced world of the rich and famous doesn’t slow down, even for charity.

“Harry, so glad you could make it.” Another voice, another man. This one lingers, long enough to receive my name, and offer a cliche compliment about my patience to put up with this beautiful bastard on my arm.

I thank him with the smile I’ve learned to speak through. These celebrities never stop smiling. Never stop posing. Never stop.

Then he’s gone too, and Harry’s whispering yet another name in my ear, of which I’ll forget seconds later because these people ultimately mean nothing to me. They all seem to pass through each other’s lives whenever convenience allows, playing house and acting like grown ups who get the privilege of not truly growing up.

I feel like the Gucci dress Harry had tailored to my body doesn’t fit. My posture sucks. I’m too scared to eat any of the finger foods being carried on silver platters through the hall. I haven’t learned how to smile through food I don’t like or not make a mess or take small enough bites. I swear, not one glass of champagne has any lipstick on it. They’re like magic.

I look at Harry. He’s stepped away to converse with a face that I do know. He and Jeff speak animatedly, Harry’s arms gesturing to whatever story he’s telling. I step over to one of the dressed tables and place what little weight I can onto the chair, needing to cling to something. When I look back up I smile, the two of them now laughing, and probably a little too loud for this charity auction.

“Y/n...right?”

I whip around, a man I’ve seen in pictures on Harry’s phone holds out his hand.

I straighten my back and accept his greeting. “Yes.”

“Finally we meet!” He catches my confusion and chuckles. “I produced Harry’s last album.”

Something clicks in my head, and he’s suddenly more familiar. “Oh! I knew that.”

Tom Hull...Kid Harpoon I process just as he introduces his name.

“I—”

An arm slipping around my waist stunts my question, Harry tipping back a red drink with his free hand while the other squeezes my hip. “Just tell this one to leave you alone,” he jabs.

Tom rolls his eyes, patting the breast of his green suit to look for something, only to show off his middle finger.

“Can’t believe the two of you haven’t met,” Harry says.

“I know, I guess we just missed each other.” Tom nods to me. “Heard you went to quite a few shows.”

“As many as I could.”

An uneasy sting travels down my spine. I did go to many shows, practically following Harry around his entire tour...all on his dime. Lord knows the man can afford it, but I still felt weird about him dishing out thousands of dollars to add me to each plane ride.

“Well I’m happy to see you two kids together,” Tom jokes, patting Harry on his back. “I’ve told him he needs to date women who will fuck him up. That’s where the songs are.”

He saunters off like he did not just say that. No. Absolutely not.

My face burns and it hurts to turn my head, but I still manage to narrow my eyes at Harry.

“Do you want another drink?”

I wait. I give him more than enough seconds to explain what the hell that was. But he’s clueless—ignorant.

“No. I do not.”

***

I do not bother taking my heels off in the car. My plan is to storm into our hotel room the second we park. Possibly locking Harry out...haven’t decided on that part yet.

The vague chit chat he makes with the driver stirs my nerves. It shouldn’t make me angry, and it’s not so much the act as it is his demeanor. He’s too cheery right now and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay,” he grabs my attention from Los Angeles flying past my window, the partition rolling up to leave us completely alone in the back seat. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my tongue, literally. “Nothing.”

“You seemed...irritated.”

“Did I?”

“Y/n.”

I turn to face him, inhaling sharply to calm my coming words. “Why are you with me?”

His face pales, and not a muscle moves. He just stares at me until he finally blinks and starts jerking his jaw around. “What are you talkin’ about?”

I roll my eyes. “The fact that you don’t know, bothers me even more.” I sigh, fighting back tears because I am determined not to cry in front of him. “Tom said that you should date people that fuck you up.”

“O—oh. That’s all?”

I squint, curling my lip. “What do you mean, that’s all? Is that not enough for you? Because that was a lot for me to hear tonight.”

“Baby, he was just messing around.”

I don’t budge.

“Really, it’s nothin’ to think about.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. “Promise. It’s just like when people told you that you could do better than me, or insult me to compliment you.” He shrugs. “It’s just party talk.”

I process his words, supposing he’s not wrong. He did receive quite a few insults in lieu of my praise tonight. Maybe I was just on edge because of the setting; being surrounded by the rich and famous while I struggle to pay my rent each month isn’t exactly grounds for positive thinking.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He leans over to kiss me, stroking my face as his lips skim over mine. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

***

It’s funny how your brain works. How emotions swoop in and corral your thoughts, like a salesman who pretends to care about you so they can get what they want. My mind was desperate for relief, from hearing Tom’s nervy comment, and I naively allowed Harry to take what he needed in that moment.

Something’s not quite right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.

I’ve been mulling over Harry’s words in my head all weekend, playing them on repeat, hoping they’ll start to make sense, but if anything their value keeps dropping. What worries me the most, is that I don’t know whether he’s trying to protect me or himself. I don’t know if one is any better than the other.

It’s golden hour when we pull up to the beach. I can hear the music before I even open the car door; a volleyball shoots up over the rows of bushes hiding the party, disappearing and popping back up a moment later.

I don’t really want to be here, but I also don’t want to be the girlfriend who won’t support their boyfriend.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and I nod.

The closer we walk, the clearer the music becomes. Harry’s voice takes over the private beach, and I wonder if they’re playing his entire album or just Golden on repeat.

A good bit of the people drinking and chatting I recognize form the event the other night, but there are still plenty of new faces. I take some fruity drink that was offered to me and down half of it before my feet hit sand.

And so the routine continues. I’m introduced to someone, they compliment me, laugh with Harry, congratulate him on pretty much everything he’s ever done, and then repeat with a new face. I do manage to find Sarah at one point after I’ve detached myself from Harry, and the two of us head for the water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sarah asks once our toes are wet.

I hold my breath and count to five, finishing whatever the hell I’m drinking before I can answer her. “I’m great.”

“Harry said you weren’t doing too well after the auction?”

“Yes, Harry does a lot of talking with people when I’m not around.”

“Alright, spill it,” Sarah says.

I trace the rim of my glass, flicking my eyes over my shoulder to make sure we’re far away from the party. “It’s stupid, really, I’m just a little...I don’t know...Tom said something the other night that rubbed me the wrong way. And Harry doesn’t seem to care.”

“What did he say?”

“Just something about how Harry needs to have relationships with people who will fuck him up.”

“Ooh,” she nods, seemingly well versed in the statement. “Yeah that’s an Iggy Pop quote. Tom mentioned it in Rolling Stone when he was interviewed.” She sips her drink, eyes growing small over the rim. “It was just a cheap line of advice he gave Harry after he was torn up after his last breakup.”

“Wait, so he actually did say that before? Like before the other night?”

Sarah drifts her eyes up in thought, nodding. “Um hm. After him and Camille broke things off.” She shrugs, and gestures to the party exploding on the beach behind us. “Fine Line.”

I have no idea what I’m feeling. No clue what is coursing through my veins, but it’s not blood anymore. The corners of my jaw tingle until my face starts going numb, my breathing shallow and chest tight.

“You okay?”

“I uh, I gotta go.”

Sarah calls after me but I let my name die in the breeze as I march back to the crowd. It’s nearly dark now, and finding Harry among all his people will take forever. I try to look for him, but I’m so distraught I can’t concentrate long enough to make out faces. I give up and head back to his car, only to find it’s locked. The asphalt is warm on my legs as I lower down to the ground, careless to the dirt I’m getting on my clothes and the scratches on my skin.

I’m not in this position for long. Not long enough, at least. Harry rounds the corner of the bushes, speeding up when he sees me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moves to sit down beside me, but I jump up before he can.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Whoa! What!? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“I told you! What Tom said the other night!” I’m yelling, too loud for public, I know. But a small part of me wants someone to hear. I want to disrupt the bubble Harry lives in.

“And I told you that it was just nonsense.”

“And that’s why you’re a liar! Sarah just told me, that he said that to you after you and Camille broke up.”

“Okay...and?”

I inhale as deep as I can. It makes me dizzy, adds to my headache. “And, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? With the knowledge that the only reason you’re even with me, is because I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’ll get songs out of it?

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you’re taking this waaay too literally. Trust me.”

“You’re not in a position right now where I even want to trust you.”

“This has gotten completely out of control. I cannot believe you’re this upset over something so stupid.”

“Right there, Harry!” I point at him. “You keep dismissing how I feel! You don’t even care that this upsets me! That I feel like I need to reevaluate our entire relationship!”

“What is there to evaluate!? I haven’t even done anything! You’re blowing up about something that someone else said!”

“But you listened to him!”

“What,” he shrugs, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harry. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” He pauses, swallowing. “Us?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, us. I can’t be with you if—if you’re just waiting around for me to ruin you emotionally.”

“You’re seriously gonna let someone else’s words do this to us? You’d break up with me because of something another person said?”

“Harry, if I break up with you it’s gonna be because of what you’ve done. I don’t care that he said it, I care that you agree to it. And quite frankly, it’s pretty insulting to Camille. You spent a part of your life with that girl, and you just capitalize off of it. I’m not gonna let you do that to me.”

“I’m not capitalizing off of anyone! What the hell am I supposed to write my songs about? I’m just supposed to not date then?”

“It’s the fact that you sought out a relationship in order to fuel your writing.”

“No, y/n, that’s not what I did.” He narrows his eyes at me, and even in the dark I can see his anger. “I sought you out because I was devastated after me and her broke up. You were only supposed to be a rebound.”

I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. The music overhead blurs into noise scraping my eardrum, my vision grows weak and foggy. He wanted to hurt me, and he did.

“I expect a thank you when you release your next album.” I spin on my heel and head towards the main road, yanking my phone from my pocket to call an uber. For the second time tonight, my name trails behind me in the wind. I can hear Harry’s steps pick up, and as fast as I walk, he still catches me.

“Y/n, please, let’s go back to the hotel. You can hate me and not talk to me, but please don’t leave.”

I ignore him, trying to set up my ride. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances at my phone, and I can tell he considers keeping the answer to himself, so he can keep me to himself. He drops his voice, much weaker than before. “Carbon Beach. Canyon road.”

Ten minutes.

“Y/n—”

“I am not interested in discussing this with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I—I was mad and was just trying to win the argument. Whichever way I could.”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Y/n, please, honey. I don’t want to lose you.” He drags his hands down his face, keeping his palms dug into his eyes. When he lets them drop, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t, but yes you were a rebound for me, but that went away. Literally weeks after we started dating. I care about you so much. I wouldn’t drag you to every show and event I have if I didn’t. I’m so proud to call you mine. The last thing you are to me is—is just grounds for my writing.”

I stare out across the road. A jeep speeds by and the gush of wind it brings sends chills down my arms.

“Harry, I just...it’s a lot. You’re a lot. Your life is a lot.” I sigh and slowly turn to face him. “It feels like the significance of us being in each other’s lives are so different.”

He kicks a rock across the road, dust flying up around us. “Fuck. Y/n I’m begging—”

“They’re here.” I nod to the headlights approaching us.

“Baby, please.”

“I think I need to be alone right now.” I get in the backseat. “Enjoy your party.”

***

I text him when I’m back at the hotel, having nowhere else to go. I didn’t think my plan of leaving through, because he’ll come back here before the night’s over. But I’m hoping he’ll stay away for a bit, long enough for me to process everything at least.

Deep down I know there’s not as much to the comment as I thought. And Harry’s not that type of guy. But the lack of concern over my feelings...the fact that I was just used as a warm body while he got over Camille...that’s what hurts the most.

There’s a fine line between being sorry because you’ve been called out, and truly being sorry. How sorry can he be when he got what he wanted? Even if I’m not what he envisioned past a few quick fucks, he still comes out on top happy.

I feel like the lifestyle these people live is embedded with secret codes, all of which I’m not wired to pick up on. The money, the mistakes, the adoration... Everything is a lot, and playing catch up is nearly impossible.

I don’t get the alone time I’d wished for. There are curses and clicks of the doorknob right before Harry comes in. He stands at the entrance, staring at me on the lounge chair like he’s unsure if I’m real.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back here.”

“Where else can I go?” I nod to his phone in his hand. “I texted you.”

“I was driving.”

I sigh, flinching when he turns the lights on. “I know you wanna talk, but I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, dropping his keys on a table to come sit beside me. “I’ll talk though.” He inhales, holding his breath for a second before forcing the air out. “I know that me saying I’m sorry means shit to you right now. And to be honest, it probably is coming from me...in a way. You’re right about everything. And whatever you’re feeling, once you figure that out, you’re valid about that too.”

“How would you feel if you were only meant to be temporary in my life? You never mentioned why you were interested in me in the beginning. And no, I never would have gone out with you had I known. I would never want to be someone’s rebound. There’s just something sneaky about that.”

His head drops into his hands, and his shoulders shake right before I hear him cry. “I know, I—I get so caught up in myself sometimes. I’m such a fucking prick.” When he looks up, his eyes are burnt red, glassy and defeated. “I don’t deserve you, and I really don’t deserve anyone.”

“Harry,” I chastise, not expecting the downward spiral he’s ventured onto.

“I swear I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I don’t want to be the one to treat you this way. Ever.”

I inhale as deep as I can, holding my breath until it hurts. “I know.” I take his hand in mine. “And I know your heart, and I know you care about me. I—” I sigh, “I’m not comfortable with...just forgetting all of this though. I can forgive you, but I think we need to take a couple steps back. I’ve gotten so swept up in your life and your world, I’m losing my own.”

He nods slowly, accepting my words with a pained face.

“I care about you too.”

He looks up for the first time, catching the last few tears with the back of his hand. “I know you do.”

I offer a small smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes fall closed, and blindly he turns to press his lips to mine. Our kiss is salty and urgent.

“What did you say to everyone when you left?”

He frowns in thought, like the memory is too far away. “Nothing. Jumped in my car and prayed this is where you’d be.”

I take his hand and pull us both to our feet. “We should go to bed. It’s been a long night. Too long.”

We’re quiet and slow as we shed our clothes and brush our teeth, slipping into bed around two a.m.. Harry doesn’t waste a second in pulling me into his warm chest, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug that has me burying my face into his neck.

We lay there, silent, but when I know I don’t have much longer before sleep overcomes me, I kiss his shoulder, whispering how much I love him before I close my eyes.

[unsolvedrubixscube]

Don’t Let Me Get Me

AO3

At long last Sasha Waybright, ex-child star, has complete control of her brand and free to do what she really wants, becoming a rock star.

To bad the media, her mother, and every record company in existence thinks she's insane and investing in her economic suicide.

She'll just have to pull off her first album herself or die trying.

---

 Sasha throws open the doors of the green room, hurries past a group of interns munching on stale donuts and old coffee, and rushes to the door that had the glowing On Air sign above it.

 “There you are!” cries a woman in shoulder pads and too much makeup, the brains and brawn behind the incredibly popular, if not bland, morning talk show, Morning with Melody.    

“We go live in two!” the show director hisses clutching her clipboard with two-inch acrylic nails.

 “So, talk about your sponsors some more,” Sasha says tugging down her scarf so a lady could apply makeup to her face. “There was ice, no one here knows how to drive.”

 The show director mutters something about how Mrs. Waybright was always punctual but barks orders into her headset giving Sasha time to pull off her scarf, gloves, and puffer coat. Out on the stage, Melody prattles on about their sponsor, a water filter that extends your lifespan.

 After the appropriate amount of product placement and intro music Melody gestures to stage right and says, “Please welcome our special guest, Sasha Waybright, better known for her role as Skye on Staying Popular!”      

 This is followed by a round of applause from the live audience as Sasha strides on stage.

 Sasha shakes hands with Melody, a generic white lady in her early 30s who already had a bit of unnatural stiffness in the corner of her eyes due to Botox, a huge genuine smile on her own face.

 “Oh, your hat,” Melody says gesturing to her own head.

 “Whoops, right, thanks,” Sasha says leaning into the fake causal small talk viewers seemed to love, “the weather made me late. You know how it is.”

 “I know, all snow and ice ugh.”

 “Terrifying,” Sasha says.

 “Dreadful,” Melody agrees.

 Sasha pulls her beanie off revealing a very much not girl-next-door pixie cut dyed a bright hot pink and half a dozen new ear piercings. Melody simply stares at her for half a second. Someone in the audience coughs.

 Cutting and dying your hair doesn’t quite have the same shock value it did twenty years ago but being Gisney’s live action golden child of ten years with no public meltdowns, no drugs scandals, and no international fiascos every little bit of rebellion stood out in stark contrast.

 “I see you’ve cut your hair,” Melody ventures.

 “Oh, yes!” Sasha says as if she had just remembered what her own head looked like, “It was just so much work styling it every day. Such a pain. I love my new style! Don’t you?”

 “It’s very bold,” Melody says noncommittally before taking back control of the interview. “Now you said you had a big announcement regarding the direction you plan on taking your career! We’ve hardly seen you after the final season of    Staying Popular. Your fans are dying to know when Skye will be back on screen.”

 The audience cheers, some of them wave signs that read Bring Back Skye.  

 “Aww,” Sasha cooes at the audience, “Thank you guys so much for your support. Staying Popular would have never made it past day one if it wasn't for all of you.”

 Another round of cheers mixed in with screams. Damn, Sasha was going to miss the raw support if nothing else from show biz. Melody waits for the crowd to quiet down before continuing.

 “Rumors have been circulating about your mother lining you up to move onto Hollywood. If only we all could be that lucky. While others say you’ve been pushing for your music career. That’s got to be stressful, has that played into your hiatus at all?”

 “Well Melody, I’ve got to be honest. You see the reason I’ve been out of the limelight is because I’ve been working out the legal details with my ex-manager.”

 “You mean your mother, Kristina Waybright?” Melody asks, leaning forward, smelling blood in the water.

 “Yes,” Sasha puts a hand on her chest, “I greatly appreciate everything she’s done for me over these past ten years, but I need to spread my wings and fly, sing my own song, you know?” While she talked Sasha casually unzips her jacket. “I’m sorry to say that the chapter of my life that involved Skye and     Staying Popular is over.”

 There was a round of sympathetic and disappointed sounds from the audience but after two years with no signs of the show returning, they should have gotten the memo. Sasha pulls flaps of her jacket apart exposing her T-shirt underneath.

 “In fact, I’m now officially an independent artist. My time working with Gisney is over. So, I can finally say this.”

 Sasha stops holding back her smile and stands showing off her shirt. It’s a custom T made specifically for this interview. The whole thing is colored like a gay pride flag with two same-sex pairing stick figures on the bottom making out, and in case that wasn’t obvious enough above them white letters read      The World Has Bigger Problems Than Girls That Kiss Girls and Boys That Kiss Boys. You know, just to piss off the good Christian demographic.

 “The industry can eat my entire ass.”  

 Sasha double flips off the cameras right as the show director scream Go to commercial! and sprints off the set.

 Sasha cackles, straight up cackles, in the car as they drive away from the studio.

 “And then, and then, you could  feel when Melody saw the shirt!” she dissolves into a fit of giggles, “God, I can’t wait to see their faces on social! Whooo!” Sasha pumps her fist, “Oh my god that was  amazing! Where is the champagne? I need to celebrate.”

 She rummages around in the jeep’s icebox looking for something alcoholic.

 “Not here,” Grime, her driver, a five-foot-six ex-navy seal built like a brick house, rumbles from the front seat.

 “What! Rude, Grimesy, just rude,” Sasha says leaning back in her seat. “I’m twenty-one you know, I can have alcohol now, legally. And it’s not like I haven’t before.”

 “You are barely twenty-one and it’s not even ten,” Grime replies, “No drinking before five.”

 Sasha slumps down further. “Buzzkill.”

 “It’s literally why you pay me.”

 Sasha grunts and then sits up looking out the windows.

 “Wait, where are we going?”

 Grime pulls into the drive-through line of one of those cheap fast-food chains she’d never been allowed to go to.

 “Want some ice cream?” Grime barely gets the words out.

 “Yes!”

 Sasha gets a shake with as many pieces of candy in it she can order.

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 3

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

You finished sending your texts to Osamu and sat back in your bed, tossing your phone aside and then pulling the covers over your head. As you tugged and curled into your blankets, your phone fell to the wooden floor of your bedroom with a heavy thunk. Cursing, you drew back the covers and reached over the edge of the bed, trying to find balance. All of the blood rushed to your face as you huffed, still attempting to rescue your phone without actually laying foot on the ground.

Once you finally recovered it, you sat back onto your bed with a heave, any sleepiness you had now gone. You stared at the ceiling, wondering what you should do that day. A hand fisted itself into the thick blankets as you tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in your plush bed. You hadn't been able to sleep well the past couple of days, for whatever reason. Your neck hurt, your back was sore, hell, your entire body ached for some reason, restless and yet so tense at the same time.

You sat up suddenly. What was it Kuroo had said to you? You weren't sure.

"Ugh..." You buried your face into your hands, memories of last night's conversation rushing back to you; remembering how you'd started talking about Kita when you were nodding off. It had been over two years since everything between you went down. Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You could feel the burn of embarrassment and shame behind your eyes, your throat beginning to close up. Sniffling, you opened your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Who wouldn't be busy? Your hand stilled, and your face brightened, if only for a moment. Kenma. He had a calm and comforting presence, which never failed to mellow you out. Plus, he didn’t really talk about emotions or feelings so he wouldn’t ask you about anything related to Kita, nor would you be tempted to talk about him.

You texted your bodyguard and driver, Ichiro, who agreed to pick you up from your apartment and then drive you to Kenma’s. Thanking him for coming on such a short notice and then reminding him to not text and drive, you got dressed for the day, choosing to wear your comfiest hoodie.

A few minutes later, your phone lit up again with Ichiro’s standard “here” text, and you were out the door, not forgetting to bring a hat and sunglasses with you, though. After locking the door and slipping your accessories on, you rushed into the elevator and then made your way down to the car.

The car ride itself was silent, as Ichiro seemed to have picked up on the mood you were in and decided not to comment. Although he was usually stoic, he always maintained a conversation if you initiated it, his responses albeit short. By now you knew that the brevity in which he spoke was not because of anything against you, however, but because he was naturally a quiet person. You wouldn’t have had anyone else for the job, though.

The car softly jolted you as it pulled to a stop, and you unbuckled quickly after realizing you were already at Kenma’s apartment. “Thanks!” you called out, opening the door yourself and then shutting it. You smiled and waved before Ichiro merged back into traffic, watching the car eventually disappear in the long stream of vehicles.

Feeling somewhat better, you entered the complex after buzzing in. and then made your way to Kenma’s apartment, knocking on the door and patiently waiting. There was a long pause and some shuffling behind the door before it opened a crack. Two large yellow eyes peered out into the hall, and then landed on you. The door shut and then opened without the door chain to stop it this time, and you stepped in.

“I brought my Switch,” you proudly announced, looking to the side of the corridor where Kenma was standing, a little hunched over and slouching. You held up your video game console, which was covered in skins and cute accessories you'd purchased. Some of them you'd gotten for free from Kenma though, who got sent free stuff all the time.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, a soft smile on his face. He pulled half of his hair back with a hair tie and followed you back to where he streamed his games, settling into the chair that all of his fans could recognize by now. “We can play Minecraft, if you want. I haven't gone on our world for a while, so we could both go on.” Kenma swiveled to look at you inquisitively, waiting for an answer.

You lazily waved a hand at him. “No! Today you’re supposed to stream, right? I just crashed your place so I don’t really have a say. You should record and then if you have time after we can play,” you insisted, sitting on the bean bag behind his gamer chair. “I’ll watch or maybe work on my own world.”

Kenma thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded, setting up his microphone and monitors. “Last chance,” he mumbled, then put his headset over his ears, blocking out everything else. You watched in the background with mild interest as he went through his usual monotonous introduction, one that his fans seemed to adore despite its lack of flair. Perhaps it was exactly that what made him so endearing to the internet. Smiling, you glanced back down to your Switch, and opened up Minecraft.

Setting your phone down for a second after replying to Atsumu, you called out lazily: "Oiiii, Kenma.” After a beat of silence and no response, you called again, "Kenmaaaa."

He had been just finished streaming, and pulled off his headphones. "Hm?"

You sat up excitedly, startling Kenma. "When I move, you should visit! Once I get settled in, at least."

He blinked, looking up at the ceiling as if calculating the pros and cons. "Too many bugs," he finally responded with a small grimace. "And it's gross and hot outside."

At that, you broke out into a laugh, the heartiest and most meaningful you’d had in a while. His particular comment wasn't even that funny, it was just- it was just so him. Was your sense of humor breaking? “Maybe I'll be able to change your mind," you mused. "We can even stream a video collab with the both of us- we should try Animal Crossing!" You clapped excitedly, beaming. "Kenma, let's do Animal Crossing once it comes out!”

He squinted his eyes, scooting away from you and your blinding enthusiasm. "Fine," he muttered, hunched over his phone now. He scrolled for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you see that we're trending? On Twitter and YouTube." Kenma handed you his phone, stifling a small laugh into the collar of his sweatshirt as he sat back.

"I did," you snickered, laying his phone on the table and lying back on his bean bag chair. "My favorite response is the one about the Kodzuken simps," you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at Kenma and then cackling when he turned completely the other way from you. "Kenma, they're devastated!" You gasped dramatically and then draped an arm over your forehead, fainting.

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. "Shut up, Y/N."

After your giggles died out, you saw him offering a controller to you. "Game night!" you cheered, accepting it and sitting up straighter. "We should get takeout!"

Kenma lifted a brow, as if to say why are you even telling me this? "Already on its way.”

The two of you chatted as you played Minecraft, Kenma being a little more open when his mind was preoccupied with gaming. He was, of course, much better than you, eyes glued to the TV screen which had been hooked up to the game console. "Has Kuroo told you who's going to the Olympics?"

You shook your head, then remembered that Kenma wasn't looking your way. "No," you replied slowly, focused on getting out of the water so you could escape the mobs that were chasing you. "But a few of the boys from Inarizaki are. As for Kuroo, I think he was going to say something, but I fell asleep last night. He said something about you and an advertisement, though?"

Kenma smiled, finally breaking his gaze with the screen and looking at you. "Hinata Shōyō from MSBY is collabing with me, to promote the 2020 Olympic games."

Your eyes lit up in recognition. "That's right! Atsumu is teammates with him. I haven't talked to him one-on-one, though. He seems sweet!"

Kenma turned his attention back to the TV, where he was almost done building a house. "He played volleyball in high school too. They beat Inarizaki his first year at Nationals."

You stopped to think, your hands stilling on the controller. Your breathing slowed. In your third year, Inarizaki hadn't progressed further into Nationals, like everyone predicted. Despite being assistant manager, you hadn't thought it would be a big deal to miss their first match in the competition; assistant managers weren’t even allowed on the actual court anyways. You had all thought you were going to get further. You had thought you would get to see your boys play one last time. You had thought you would get to see Kita lead his team to Nationals, as team captain.

You had missed out on that opportunity for signing a record deal.

Beside you, Kenma noticed how quiet you'd gotten but didn't comment, instead going to the door when the buzzer notified him of their takeout delivery. You picked at a loose string on your hoodie, remembering why you didn't often go to Kenma when in distress. While you knew he cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew that heart-to-heart conversations weren't his strong suit. When he returned a few moments later with your favorite foods, you pushed down the eruption of guilt and self-loathing with a bright smile. "Sorry, what were we saying? Something about Kuroo..." You strained to keep your eyes crinkled and happy.

Kenma's brow furrowed. "Kuroo-"

You interrupted him, and he let you. "Oh yeah! Kuroo and I are gonna hang out on Thursday! Wanna come? I'm leaving Saturday morning, so unless I see you before then, this will be the last time you see me before I leave for Hyōgo."

You watched his face run through a couple of emotions before settling on contemplation. Kenma blew a wisp of stray hair from his eyes and then begrudgingly: "Sure..."

This time, you gave him a true smile and clapped excitedly. "Yay! Should we try to get some of the others to join us? Lev? I want to be able to say goodbye to all of you in person, if possible." Then, swiping the plastic bag from Kenma, you opened the bag hurriedly and began pulling out things. "Here are the plates... and the chopsticks..." You set everything out and then let him load his plate with food first. Soon after, the two of you were back to playing Minecraft, squabbling over who got to use what equipment. After Kenma finally relented and let you have first pick, the both of you set out to fight the swarms of mobs gathered near your shared house.

"Hey, Y/N."

You had looked away for only a couple seconds, but you were blown up by a Creeper. "BITCH," you screeched, "I just fucking died?!"

Kenma snickered, running past your character and stealing everything you'd left behind. You gasped even louder. "BITCH-"

a/n: i said there weren’t going to be as many words as the last part but 🤡 also currently the fic is moving slowly and going day by day but it’ll pick up the pace soonish

taglist (pm me to ask to be added!): @papiibuprofen​ (i didn’t know if i should just respond to your ask publicly sksksk but i added you) 

some ~fun facts~

- y/n’s bodyguard/driver is named after ichiro, one of my fav baseball players

- his name in y/n’s contacts is “bonecrusher ����” lmao 

- he is stoic but actually a softie; he’s about 30 and has a wife and one kid, both of whom he loves very much 

- i had kenma and y/n playing animal crossing instead of minecraft at first, then realized that it wouldn’t have been released yet, since this takes place in 2020... DAMN YOU TIMELINE

- do i have a map of hyōgo so i can write this fic? yes 💀

[inomios]

Beauty behind the madness || levi ackerman x reader || PART I

Summary: “You knew that under all of his layers of grief and rage there was something worth loving; he knew that under your easy smiles and sweet words there was something dark lurking. He wanted all of you and you wanted all of him.”

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Words: 7,4K

TG: Brief allusion to soldiers’ suicides; little description of a panic attack on the seventh part (I can’t feel my face); brief talk about death and addiction; and even though I wrote it all using gender neutral terms, at some point I used the term girlfriend because partner sounded too cold for the situation.

-        If you are triggered by some content that I haven’t mentioned, please tell me so I can add it to the list and prevent it from happening again.

Author’s note: Mushing my favorite album with my comfort character is being so much fun. I’m enjoying so much this process you wouldn’t believe it. The second part will be up next Tuesday, and it’ll be the ending. Please, share, comment and like if you enjoyed, it would mean the world to see your reactions and impressions. As always, English is not my mother language, so sorry for the mistakes.

                                                          . . .

1. REAL LIFE

He had carved on his soul, heart and mind the words that Kenny had once told him, back when he was a scared and weak kid under his wing in the Underground, back when Kenny had caught him crying in the dead of night over his mother.

‘Boy, you won’t survive a day with that attitude. Your mother was a whore and now she’s a dead whore, get over it. You don’t have time to mop over her, crying is for people who have nothing more important to worry about.’

Kenny, for better or for worse, had taught him many lessons that became the key to his survival, advices he would never forget, and this was one of them: ‘Grieving is a waste of time.’

Every second he cried over his mother was time he could have spent granting his sorrowful existence. He couldn’t let his grief control him, because missing his mother wouldn’t make him last another day, she couldn’t protect him now that she was gone. So, for better or for worse, he let his sadness and rage aside and started focusing on what was important: survival.

Grieve is a tricky feeling, it makes you think you can control it, while it just keeps bottling up until it explodes, and you better be ready for when that happens, because you may not be able to fix the mess it’s going to leave behind.

Levi thought he had masqueraded his feelings pretty well, he tried to shrug everything off, as if nothing mattered to him, but it did, and Kenny knew it and he loved to tease him about it, he loved to press his buttons, Levi had learned that pretty soon in the relationship, but he was trying to handle his feelings, he wanted to prove Kenny he was worthy of his time, that he was strong, that  he wasn’t weak, not anymore. So, whenever Kenny tried to get a reaction out of him, he kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t water down the fire in his grey eyes and Kenny could see it, he always could.

‘You are as worthless as your mother, maybe I should leave you in a brothel too, then you would be useful for something.’

A loud howling laughter.

Levi’s brow twitched.

‘Did your mom have time to teach you how to read or was she too busy fucking half the Underground?’

He thought he had said something hilarious. He bent over his back.

Levi had a little knife clutched in his hand.  He was starting to see red.

‘You’re as worthless as your mother.’

He was pushing him to his limits.

Levi had already passed them.

He liked to think that there was a dark abyss inside of him, a bottomless place where he could hide all his emotions and thoughts, they were useless, so he ignored them, he kept them away, far from the surface. Levi thought that he could detach from his pain, but it was a part of him, and if you stare into the abyss for too long, the abyss stares back at you. The Levi who grieved was still there, looking at him, the Levi who felt too much but said nothing wanted to get out, so he did, he escaped from the abyss and took control.

He run towards Kenny, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, knife in his hand, aiming for his heart, but Kenny was faster, quicker on his feet, he moved just in time. However, Levi still managed to scratch his shoulder, he teared his shirt and he could see the blood slipping, tainting the white fabric.

Kenny got mad. Levi had never seen him that furious. He grabbed his scrawny body and gave him the beating of his life. When he ended, Levi couldn’t even move, he was lying on the floor on a puddle of his own blood.

‘Listen kid, I don’t give a fuck about your shitty problems. You think you’re special? Guess what, you are a piece of shit, just like everyone else. Everyone here has issues, solve them or do whatever you want to do with them, but don’t you ever dare to pull a stunt like that again, because I’ll will leave you here to die, boy.’

That was the second lesson Kenny had told him: ‘Control is vital.’

He thought that by ignoring his feelings he was controlling them, but he was wrong, he realized that when those bottled emotions caused him to be bed ridden a few days.

Instead, he decided to let his feelings out in really calculated moments, he started to canalize all his rage into more productive stuff, like cleaning. He liked to think that by cleaning he had control over something, there was something cathartic to him in scrubbing floors, doing the laundry, and mopping floors. It was the Underground, it was filthy no matter how much effort he put into it, but it gave him something he could focus on, something he could use to let his frustrations out.

So, he cleaned, for his mother who deserved a better live.

For the innocent child that he once was, who had been stripped from everything he loved.

For Kenny, who he despised and was cruel and ruthless.

For all the things he had to do to survive.

He cleaned and cleaned, and he never had an outburst again. He was in control.

Looking back, he is sure that part of Kenny’s fury that day was that a kid made him bleed. You see, Kenny liked to think of himself as some kind of god, a ruler, someone who could control everybody, someone who was holding your fate between his calloused hands. And when he hurt Kenny, both of them realized two things, especially Levi, who discovered this: ‘Gods bleed to.’

Levi learnt his third lesson that day. No one could control him, the same way he couldn’t control anyone. You are the one who makes the decisions, just be sure to choose one you won’t regret. Kenny had no power over him, he wasn’t a god and if he was, Levi wouldn’t bow down to him.

Kenny learnt that Levi, that child, had a fire within he couldn’t tame, Levi wasn’t going to be a submissive, brainless follower. He had potential, he had willpower, he didn’t really need him, but the boy didn’t know it yet. So, when the moment came, he left. He had grown to care about his nephew, at least a little, but Levi was a survivor and Kenny knew he would fight with teeth and claws until the very end. Therefore, Kenny left him with the only person who could protect him: Levi himself.

When Kenny left him at his own, alone again in the Underground, he learnt his fourth lesson: ‘Love is a risk he wasn’t going to take again.’

  2. LOSERS

Stupid is next to ‘I love you.’ He was pretty fucking sure of that.

He made a bow to himself: he wasn’t going to love anyone ever again, people are bound to leave, and whenever they left, they took away a part of him, and he was already too broken for that. However, life happens, and it turns everything upside down, it doesn’t ask for consent, so his plan of never loving again was ruined sooner than he would’ve liked.

Furlan came first. He wasn’t looking for a companion, at all. A companion meant more people to care about, a distraction, and he didn’t need any of that. However, Furlan managed to convince him that he could be useful to him. Whenever he looks back, he thinks that both of them knew that Levi didn’t need anyone, he could survive on his own, he was tougher than anyone else in the Underground, but he was alone, so alone, and a part of him yearned so much for someone that he let Furlan come with him.  

Their relationship was weird at first, not sure where the boundaries of the other laid, what they could do or don’t. Furlan didn’t want to overstep and piss off Levi and Levi didn’t want to overshare with him, he didn’t want to show him his weaknesses, but at the same time he wanted to spend time with him.

He remembers that there were moments when Levi desired to say something, talk about pointless stuff, but he never did, after Kenny he was deprived of human contact that he even thought that he had lost his voice. However, as time passed them by, they fell into some type of routine, boundaries became clearer. Furlan started to get Levi, how he would never start a conversation no matter how bad he wanted; how his mind was always plotting something; how he always had an ace upon his sleeve… Furlan grew fond on him, he knew that there was a lot Levi wasn’t telling him, but from time to time he got to see a glimpse of all the man he was under his façade and layers of secrets, and he wanted to learn about him, he wanted to be his friend, he wanted to have someone to help and he wanted someone to take care of him, he wanted to stay.

On the other hand, Levi liked how Furlan seemed to know when he could talk and joke around and when he had to stay silent, it was like he understood him, Furlan was prudent and chill, thinking before acting, and he knew when to fight and when to give up. Levi started to care about him, a lot, against his better judgement, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret his choice.

Then, Isabel appeared on scene. Levi was happy enough with Furlan, he didn’t need someone else to worry about, that was more trouble, more chances to get hurt. However, he soon found he had a soft spot for the girl. She was so energetic, so bubbly, eyes always gleaming with hope, she was a ray of light in the darkest place. She was messy, reckless and wild, she balanced them out. When she asked to join them, Levi wanted to let out one of his characteristic ‘Tch’ and turn his back on her, there was no room for compassion in the Underground, but he couldn’t, he was weaker than he thought. He couldn’t leave her at her own knowing she could get herself killed, he didn’t want to be like Kenny, he wasn’t going to be like him.

The three of them became a gang, well, not just a gang, a family too. They looked after each other, they looked after Levi, just like his mother did. They were the best criminals in the Underground, and sometimes Levi felt like a god with the world at his feet. He shouldn’t have forgotten his third lesson: ‘Gods bleed too.’ He thought they were invincible, they weren’t, they were no gods, life wouldn’t bend at their will.

When Isabel and Furlan died, he didn’t even have proper bodies to bury, he just did two little makeshift graves and carved their name on the gray stone. He was the only person who would remember them, so he visited them at least once a week (he still does), mainly during his sleepless nights, when no one would ever question or notice his absence. Talking with them was the only reason why he hadn’t given up long time ago, he was their leader, he told them to always keep going, to never back down.

So, he kept going, for his mother, for Isabel and for Furlan. For the only people who ever loved him.

Maybe he didn’t really keep going, maybe he just let life pass by, what mattered was that he was alive and fighting for a purpose, he owed them that, their deaths wouldn’t be in vain.

Why did he always have to lose everything?

Why there was nothing good in store for him?

He was bound to lose to lose everything.

Stupid is next to I love you.

He was so fucking foolish.

3. TELL YOUR FRIENDS

The mission had been a carnage, a lot of fallen soldiers. He could still hear their screams and see the fear in their eyes, more images to haunt him while he was sleeping, as if they weren’t already enough. He couldn’t save anyone, he never could, he was human after all, even if some people thought about him like a god.

He had had a problem with his ODM gear during the mission, the gas cylinders were failing and wasting too much gas, so he ran out of it pretty quickly, which costed him a seven meters fall, breaking his right leg, his left arm, a few ribs and a concussion in the process. He could have died and a part of him wished he had, then, the pain would have ended. Luckily, Hange arrived just in time to help him, he still thinks that maybe they knew what was going on in his head, that he had thought about giving up right there, and that’s why as soon as they arrived back home, they sent him to the infirmary, not wanting to leave him alone. Hange still says it was because he couldn’t take proper care of his injuries by himself. They both knew he had had it way worse than that.

The infirmary was clean, and that meant a lot according to his standards, but your desk wasn’t, not at all and it was driving him crazy, if he could, he would get up and clean it himself. However, you seemed unphased by it, every day you would drop more documents on your table (but no document ever left, they just kept piling up); he had seen you drop coffee on some paper and not giving a fuck a single fuck about it; you had seven books on your table, none of them related with medicine, you just had them there because you wanted; and if you asked him what irked him the most, he would say the brush, you had a brush in your desk and it was full of hair. He couldn’t get his eyes of your desk, and if you ever noticed, you never did anything about it; or maybe you did notice and since you are a little shit, you just wanted to see how far you could go before he went feral. We will never know.

If you had been any other person, like one of the members of his squad, he would have said something way earlier, but you weren’t his subordinate, you were a medic and as far as he knew, he didn’t have the right to scold you at your own workplace.

You were competent, you just talked when necessary and you would always ask him if he wanted something, no matter how many times he had said ‘no’ and whenever Hange came to visit, you would always talk with them and ask them about their experiments and research. Hence, Hange thought you were the sweetest person ever, they had even told him that he better not be giving you any trouble.

You both had an easy routine. You would come in first hour in the morning, trying to be silent with no success at all, you were so noisy, luckily for him, he never sleeps more than four hours. You would sit on your desk and write a letter, every day, who the fuck had so many people to talk to or how many things worth telling did happen in your life? Then, you would go out to get him breakfast and you brought more documents with yourself, his breakfast always came with a cup of tea, a shitty cup of tea, but at least it wasn’t coffee or juice, he didn’t know if you were the one behind the tea, but if you were, he was glad you didn’t work on the kitchen. After breakfast, Hange would pay him a visit and talk with him, his squad would often visit him after training and Erwin once or twice a week, whenever his work let him a little free. At midday you would water the plants on the window, you had once called them ‘Asphodels’ and after watering them you disappeared, at the beginning he thought you just went to eat, later on, he would find why you did that. The rest of the day was the same, you wrote and read documents and he would either look annoyed at your desk or he would vert his gaze at the window to distract himself.

This routine changed the second week, because you asked him two questions that made him be more comfortable around you.

‘Why do you look at my desk as if it were making you sick?’

‘Tch, because is making me sick, it’s dirty as fuck.’

Okay, not the best words, but you asked, and he answered. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel better after telling you. You blushed a little and scratched your neck bashfully.

‘Sorry, I can be a little messy sometimes.’

‘I can see.’

That day you spent the evening emptying your desk, any other person would have asked you not to bother, but Levi couldn’t care, after all, his last thread of sanity depended on that desk. When you finished cleaning, you asked the second question.

‘You hate my tea, but you drink it anyways, why?’

He felt his ears getting a little red, and he just shrugged and looked away.

‘You are taking care of me, didn’t wanna be a bitch about it.’

You smiled, a smile brighter than the morning star, and for a fraction of second he forgot how the breath, but he obviously didn’t say a thing about it.

‘I promise you that tomorrow you’ll have the best tea ever.’

‘Tch, if you say so.’

He appreciated your gesture, kindness wasn’t something he was used to, it felt weird and strange to have someone to do good things just for the sake of doing them, it made him wary, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought that maybe you wanted to get something from him and that’s why you acted so nicely around him.

The next day, after writing your daily letter, at your then clean desk, you brought him breakfast with a steaming cup of tea. He drank the beverage under your expecting gaze and to his surprise it was nice, not the best tea ever made, but definitely not the worst.

‘It tastes better.’

‘Thanks, this time I followed the recipe.’ You admitted proudly.

‘How the fuck were you even making tea before?’

‘Instinct?’

He looked at you astonished, how come you were a doctor, but you couldn’t follow a three-step recipe? At that moment he thought his health was in the hands of dumbest medic in the area, however, he didn’t really care, well, at least not as much as he would have expected. You had something, an aura around your persona, that was soothing and endearing, rather than infuriating.

At the crack of dusk on that same day, he was the one who asked a question.

‘Who are you always writing?’

For a moment he swears he saw your happy demeanor quivering, as if he had opened a cage that should have remained closed, but you quickly fixed, the funny glint coming back at your eyes as fast as it had left. It was in that moment when he knew that you weren’t as shallow as he may have deemed you to be.

‘I’m just telling my friends about this annoying patient I have. Do you know he made me clean my office desk?’

Your voice was laced with amusement, you were trying to divert his attention to another topic, and he knew, but he was no one to press you about it.

‘Well, as soon as I’m free, I’m telling my friends about how my medic is a fucking shitshow.’ Too blunt, but you brushed it off.

‘They sound like a nightmare.’

‘They are.’

You smiled, yet again as blinding as the sun.

He didn’t smile, he didn’t even grimace, his face was as stoic as always, but for a split of second, a smile nearly slipped in.

To his surprise, he actually talked about you to his friends. When he had the medical lease, the first thing he did was visit Isabel and Furlan’s impromptu graves and talk about you. It wasn’t a lot, he just mentioned you a few times. It didn’t mean a thing, and at the same time, it meant everything.

 4. OFTEN

It didn’t mean a thing.

Not a single thing.

It was unimportant.

He was like that with everyone.

Except he wasn’t and he knew it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He would always find himself at your door, not because he was sick or harmed, he just felt the need to see you. He didn’t even talk with you that much, he wasn’t good at opening up or even small talk. He was foul-mouthed, snarky and his words could cut deeper than a knife. You were soft, kind, funny and there weren’t uncomfortable silences with you, your presence was comforting. Levi didn’t get why he felt that way about you, he barely knew you, but you had something that drew him in, maybe it was the normalcy you brought him. You were a doctor, you healed people, you tended their injuries; you hadn’t seen the titans, you hadn’t seen comrades die at their merciless hands, you didn’t know what was outside the walls and he liked that. You were an escape. It was as if his life was only centered around Titans and his existence had no other point but to kill or think about to kill Titans: Hange were always babbling about Titans; his paperwork was always a painful reminder of fallen mates; Erwin was always tracing missions and plans; and the whole point of his squad was training to defeat those beasts. He never had a break, but visiting you felt like it.

He knocked at your door and it opened, you were at your desk, which was an unorganized mess then again, humming some song he didn’t know while you were reading some medical reports. And the asphodels in the window looked beautiful as always.

‘Hi, Levi.’ You looked up and gave him a smile.

Your smiles.

Oh man, he took them in like a dehydrated man would savor the first droplets of rain.

He just nodded as a salute and walked towards the window to see the asphodels.

‘Why asphodels?’ he asked, you loved those flowers, and they weren’t necessary the most beautiful.

To him you were more like yellow lilies, he had read somewhere that yellow lilies meant joy and happiness. They always brought a simile to one’s face because they are the true depiction of the sun, just like you were.

‘I don’t know, they are special’ you said with a small voice, the same haunted look in your eyes, the same that appeared when he asked about your letters.

‘I guess they are.’

A comfortable silence fell in the room. He was getting used to these havens of peace.

That night at dinner, he was sitting next to Erwin, Hange in front of him, looking at him quizzically.

‘What’s going between you and y/n? You’re always at their place.’ They ask.

‘Tch, nothing, I just visit them often.’

Lies

‘So, there is no ulterior motive, like, I don’t know, our Short king having a crush?’ Levi sometimes forgot how punchable Hange’s face was.

‘No.’

More lies.

Something was going on, they both knew, but he was too scared to think about what it was.

 5. THE HILLS

Another fight. More deaths. What was the point of it? He felt like he was fighting for a pointless cause, the more deaths, the less they knew. He would have to send more letters to the families, telling them that their sons and daughters fought bravely until their last breath and sacrificed their lives for the sake of humanity. However, broken families would come to him and ask him if it was worth it, if the death of their children, cousins, brothers and parents brought them answers, if their deaths meant that humanity was closer to taste the freedom they longed for. He had always said that no death was in vain, but he was starting to question that.

He had barely seen you after the mission, he retreated to his quarters, drowning himself in reports and regrets, if he had been better, he could have saved more lives, but he wasn’t enough, he was no hero, he was a human. He had been fighting his whole life and he just wanted it to stop, he wanted peace and tranquility, not more deaths at his shoulders, no more ghosts to haunt him at the end of the day.

He never slept, at least not for more than a few hours. However, after a mission he didn’t sleep at all, the images of his comrades’ deaths still fresh on his mind, their screams still piercing his ears, his sanity vanished a little bit more every time he tried to close his eyes, so he just laid awake looking at the roof, thinking about all the things he could have done to save them, repeating their names as if he was asking for their forgiveness.

Sometimes it all got too much, and he needed to walk to clear his mind, there were nights when he walked for hours with no direction at all, but that night he did have a direction: your office. He didn’t really know why he was doing it, but he was too tired to turn back and ask himself why you. He thought that you would probably be asleep, but to his surprise there was a dim light coming from your office, so he knocked, just like all of those times before, and your soft voice told him to come in.

He had never seen you so disheveled and tired, dark bags under your eyes, traces of tears on your face and bloodshot eyes. He also noticed four new asphodels on your desk. He looked at them and then he looked at you. He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t, so you spoke.

‘My regrets follow you to the grave.’ He barely heard you.

‘What?’

‘That’s what asphodels mean, you asked me about them once, you remember?’

He nodded, that’s all he could do.

‘I couldn’t save them, I tried, but I wasn’t good enough.’ You broke down to tears.

He wasn’t good at processing his own emotions, let alone other people’s. What was he supposed to do? He knew that people hugged to show support, but as he would say, he was ‘emotionally constipated’, so he just stayed there, looking at you.

Do something.

Do something.

Do something.

But he remained stiff, it was like watching the scene happen in third person.

‘I’m sorry, I know this is making you uncomfortable, it’s just that it’s been a long day.’

‘It’s been a long day for me to.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘You told me that asphodels mean ‘my regrets follow you to the grave’, that’s why you have them? Because you feel guilty?’

‘I plant one for every soldier that dies on my watch.’ That was the first time you opened up with him.

‘I keep the badges of their uniforms.’ That was the first time he opened up with you.

Right then everything shifted.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He knew those feelings, the remorse and the guilt, he was so painfully familiar with them that they had become a part of his being.

‘It wasn’t your fault either, Levi.’

It wasn’t your fault either.

It wasn’t your fault either.

It wasn’t your fault either.

Your words echoed in his mind like a drum and for a moment he believed them.

You came closer and you wrapped your arms around him, he tried to respond, embracing you in strangely, you laughed at his antics and in that moment, he wanted to disappear. You smiled and you readjusted his arms around your waist. He brought you closer, slowly, not wanting to scare you away and break the moment. You laid your head in his chest, right above his heart, and he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart beating wildly. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin and your smell intoxicating him. For a moment he felt like home, even though he didn’t understand what ‘being home’ meant, but it had to be very similar to that: comforting, reassuring, peaceful, safe.

That night, he spent what felt like hours holding you, until you had to part separate ways, the only witnesses were the asphodels and the hills at the distance.

  6. ACQUAINTED

What are we?

Levi couldn’t stop asking himself that question.

Friends didn’t have what you two had. Maybe he wasn’t the most amicable person, but he had had some friends in his life: he once had Isabel and Furlan when he was younger, and now he had Hange and Erwin, and maybe he could even consider his squad friends. And none of what he felt for them was like what he felt for you.

He tried to make sense of his thoughts by writing them, but words weren’t his forte and he just ended more and more confused.

You were nice.

You were beautiful.

You made him laugh, well, not laugh, but close enough.

You were kind.

He appreciated you, he cared for you and he wanted to protect you, but he also felt the same towards Erwin, Hange and his squad. Then, if it was the same, why it was completely different.

He kept visiting you, everything looked like it was the same, but everything had changed. It felt like the calm before the storm, as if something was about to happen, the tides were shifting, he could feel it. There were words unsaid lingering in the atmosphere and sooner or later, someone would have to utter them. But who? And if you spoke them, what would he say?

He also spent a lot of his time thinking about that too, if you happened to confess your feelings for him, if you had them, would he be able to respond them? Normal people would try, give it a shot and see what would happen, what the relationship had in store, let things flow; but he wasn’t normal, he was far from normal, he knew he wasn’t the easiest to love. He was rude, mean, a control freak, he wasn’t the one for big displays of affection, he was the last person someone would want as a partner. People yearned for epic love stories, something that could take your breath away and he wouldn’t be able to do that, he wouldn’t be able to give you the bare minimum.

Also, after all the people he had lost, he didn’t want your name to be added to that list. He preferred the uncertainty of your relationship than the possibility of losing you. If he left more people in, more people he could lose. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were already in, but there were still boundaries between both of you.

He had also fantasized about laying himself bare in front of someone, share all of his trauma and memories, share the burden with someone, but who would love all of him? If he couldn’t even stand himself most of the days, how could he expect that someone would   do it?

‘If you were a flower, I think you would be a gladiolus.’ You would always blurt nonsense out of the blue, but for some reason, he found it endearing instead of annoying.

‘Tch, what’s even that supposed to mean?’

‘I don’t know, it’s just, gladius symbolize strength, generosity, faithfulness and I guess those are things I associate with you.’ Your cheeks were tainted with the softest tones of red and you weren’t looking at him, your gaze was fixed on your paperwork.

Those words had a way deeper meaning, he knew it and you knew it, it was as if you were testing the water by putting the tips of your feet in it. As per usual he didn’t know what to say, what was he supposed to say to that? Thanks? I think I may be falling for you?

‘Sorry, I made things weird, I should just-’ you couldn’t finish because he had started talking.

‘I think you would be a yarrow flower.’ Amazing, now he was the one talking nonsense.

Not so long ago he pictured you as yellow lilies, joy and happiness, but after getting to know you better, he realized that that description was too shallow for what you meant to him. He didn’t know a lot about flowers, he wasn’t really into botany, but he had heard about yarrow before, he had heard merchants inside Sina call them ‘plant doctor’, since they would be often placed near other plants to keep the pests away, he had also heard that it was considered invasive too, because how easily it spread. Therefore, the association came quickly to him, you were healing, a solace from the cruelty of his world; and you were invasive, because he couldn’t be away from you, you consumed him.

‘That means a lot.’ Your blush was now more pronounced now and he wondered what you had made out of his words.

He felt a wave of panic travel through his body, maybe that statement was too deep, maybe he screwed it all, so he decided to excuse himself and ran away from the situation he had created. He had told you he was going to his room, he lied, he was going to the library, he needed to see what his words had meant. He wasted all his evening looking for books about the meaning of flowers, he sure looked like a madman, he hadn’t even gone to the Mess Hall to have dinner, he needed to found answers, and he found them at two a.m.

“The secret language of flowers” said the title, he opened the book and he started looking for the yarrow’s meaning.

Healing and Good Health

Courage and War

Everlasting Love

When he read the last symbolism of the flower, his heart stopped for a whole minute, did he just declare his feelings, that he wasn’t ever sure of, to you? He wanted to disappear in the spot, just vanish into the air.

He went to his room, holding the book close to his chest. He spent the rest of the night reading the book, he wouldn’t mess up again, if he ever wanted to talk about flowers with you, he would be informed. When the sun rose, his head was buzzing with flower meanings, and he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about you while reading some of them.

At breakfast he did go to the Mess Hall and took his usual place.

‘Where were you yesterday at dinner?’ asked Erwin.

‘With his girlfriend.’ Replied Hange with a big smile.

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ He said with a grunt.

‘What are they then?’ Hange was using the tone, the one which meant “I know you’re hiding something, and I won’t stop pestering you until I discover it.”

‘We are just acquainted.’

‘Liar.’

 7. CAN’T FEEL MY FACE

He remembered how there were days when Kenny would drink himself to oblivion, Levi didn’t understand why he did it. He didn’t see the point of passing out in the floor, and when he asked, Kenny answered that ‘his vices kept him sane’. It still made no sense to him, how a man could be so cunning and sharp, while he wasted his nights and days with alcohol, women and many other things that Levi wasn’t interested on trying. He had seen Kenny drunk and it was far from having control. The first lesson Kenny had told him was that control is vital, then, how come he was powerless in his own life, letting alcohol take control of him.

‘You’re old enough to try it, boy. Take some if you want.’

The first time Kenny offered him alcohol, he had declined, he had said no, and Kenny had shrugged it off, as if saying: ‘more for me.’ He wouldn’t get it, it didn’t make sense, Kenny, who prided himself on his cold-blood and his steel nerves, would renounce to that control so easily, he didn’t want to be like that, never in a million years, he would never give up his self-control.

Until he did.

He had lost control. And he now understood Kenny.

He knew he should distance himself from you, he didn’t want more Furlan’s and Isabel’s, he was getting dangerously close to you and he didn’t want that. He should run away, disappear. You were kind and sweet, you would find someone else to feel the void he would inevitably leave. He had always been the one being left behind, and he survived, you would too. Also, it’s not as if he contributed a lot to your life. He was sure you both would be better with the other far away, I mean, the facts were there. Actually, they had been spiraling in his head for a while.

Then, if he knew all of that, why was he helping you cut clean bandages, especially so close to you that he could smell your shampoo? Oh yeah, because you asked him to, as easy as that, all his conviction melted away from every fiber of his body.

Why did he do that? Why was he so helpless around you? Oh yeah, because you made him feel so damn good. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t seem to notice, you acted as if it was nothing, you had power over him, you had Humanity’s Strongest at his knees.

‘My family died a long time ago, I couldn’t save them, I moved in with my aunt and I decided that I’d study medicine for them.’ You said out of the blue.

You cut one bandage.

‘The letters I write are for them. It’s stupid, but it makes me feel closer to them.’

You cut another bandage.

He didn’t say a thing.

He hated himself, any other person would have hugged you or said something, he just stayed there, frozen and acting as cold as always. Why did you confide in him something so personal? He wasn’t the one to go when you are sad, he didn’t even know how to process his own trauma and baggage most of the time. What was he supposed to do?

On the other hand, you trusted Levi more than anyone in your life. He brought you peace and solace, something you thought you would never have.

You lost your family when you were really young, always feeling guilty for being the one who survived, and you promised to yourself you would vow your life to help the others, never putting your needs first. When you joined the military, you watched many soldiers die on your hands, you could still hear their last words, how scare they were, how they didn’t want to die like that, alone and far away from their family; you could also recall their mutilated bodies; and you could also remember how many of them would survive the Titans but lose the fights against their own mind and end up being another fallen soldier that died for nothing. You loved your job, but it also killed a part of you every day, there were no victories on a war, and you knew it. That’s why you picked up gardening, you planted a flower for every soldier who died, something to remember them.

When you met Levi, you admired him, you had heard the stories about him, his courage, mood changes, sharp tongue, skills, intelligence… You would be lying if you said he didn’t make you curious, you were used to soldiers haunted by the horrors they had faced, but something about him was different, maybe because you saw yourself in those grey eyes. You two were similar, you both had so much pent up that you could not talk about, you had an image to keep, and it was exhausting. He had a name to uphold, people looked up to him, if he failed, if he crumbled, everyone else would; you were a doctor, and no matter how hard things were, you had to be strong for your patients, never showing how much their pain took a toll on you. You could let your mask down, because even though he didn’t talk too much or overall understand why you were sharing that, it felt good, liberating.

Sometimes, he would also talk about him, not a lot, but enough to make you feel understood, and those moments, when he showed the man underneath the façade, glimpses of his true persona, those few minutes, sometimes even seconds, were responsible for your growing feelings for the captain.

‘It’s not stupid, I talk to my dead friends’ graves.’ He said nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t baring a piece of him in front of you.

Those kind of flashes of the man he was underneath took your breath away every single time.

You came close to him, slowly, testing the waters, not wanting to scare him away. Maybe it was too forward, too reckless, too much at a time, but he didn’t move. You brought your hand to his cheek. He didn’t jump away. You looked into his eyes, pools of mercury. He held your gaze, expecting your next move. You could feel the tension. He could too.

‘They would be really proud of you.’ You said, voice thin and trembling.

He was silent. Your words caught him of guard.

He was feeling too much. His heartbeat was erratic, beating wildly, he could hear it. He felt the blood boiling under his skin, he was so hot, he was sweating. He couldn’t move, but he felt his body trembling. He could feel the room closing on him, trapping him. He wasn’t in control.

It was a too familiar feeling, one he had experienced a thousand times before.

‘Levi, are you okay? I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.’ You said worriedly.

He didn’t know what to do, he just wanted the pain in his chest to end.

You were too close. You were trapping him too. So, he pushed you away from you and run from the infirmary. You couldn’t see him like that, no one could.

Why did he share that with you? Why did you get too close? Were you going to kiss him?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why was he like that?

Why did he ruin things?

Why did he lose control of himself? He couldn’t even feel his face when you touched it.

He felt pathetic. He felt like the little kid he once was.

Control is vital.

Control is vital.

Control is vital.

If he was with you, he wasn’t in control. And if he lost his control, then he would have nothing.

He had to get away from you, because you were stripping him from the only thing he had: his control.

[thegreatestofheck]

Heck’s Masterlist

OBX Masterlist

Since some of my fics are getting long, here’s a masterlist of everything I’ve made so far in relation to Outer Banks! It will continually be updated as more fics, blurbs, and requests are added!

Also, my requests are open! I don’t generally do smut, but I’m open to mostly anything else!

JJ Maybank 

Requests:  

Jump -  You are John B’s sister and you’ve been following him around your whole life. After deciding to make your own path, you find yourself caught up with a boy who is no good and JJ is the only one who can get you out of it.

Wedding Dress -  JJ makes a promise to himself that he’s now not sure he can keep.

Run - You’re John B’s sister and after sending him off on the Phantom, it’s up to you to cover for him. But Ward Cameron is still your legal guardian and he comes to collect his property.

Ransom -  John B’s sister is taken by the square groupers. In exchange for her life, they ask for the compass and a heavy ransom price. It’s a race of time as the Pogues, with the help of Sheriff Peterkin, journey into the marsh to save her life before the clock runs out.

Not So Unrequited -  in the middle of an argument with your best friend, he says something to you that you had never wanted to hear.

i love you -  your relationship with JJ had always been rocky, built on a mutual desire for affection. that doesn’t mean he would never break your heart.

fill the void - she always felt alone, so when he needed her most, she couldn’t resist.

promises, promises - You and JJ have an unspoken thing, passed only though stolen glances and half serious flirting. But the day after he takes the fall for Pope, you find yourself standing at a crossroads; do you step in to protect him from his dad, or do you stay out of it?

Series: 

Ocean and Alcohol - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, Epilogue, Rafe’s POV)  You’re a kook, but your life is less than ideal. After a fight with some of the other kooks, you let slip a little about your home life to one JJ Maybank, who is more than intrigued. (reader insert with a name, tw: abuse, canon content)

Tempest and Gin - (1, 2)   The gold is gone, but Elma’s problems are just beginning. With her dad in police custody and her mom once again AWOL and refusing to pay for legal council, Elma and Ms. Lana struggle to get through the trial with a court appointed lawyer. At the end of her rope, Elma finds herself juggling friends, family, rivals, and enemies as she struggles to keep her wits about her and do the one thing she’s always done; protect Kid.

Girl With No Heartbeat - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)  After a near death experience, JJ is saved by a girl in the water. When he and the Pogues find her washed ashore the next day, they are more than surprised to discover that she isn’t your everyday girl. (mermaid/siren au, canon divergence) 

Imagines:

Sweet as Honey, Hard as Steel -  JJ’s girlfriend is the complete opposite of everything one would expect. A straight A student with big life goals, Elena has never been the drinking, smoking, fighting type. And JJ wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coward -  Your mom just passed and your absentee father has come to collect you. But that means leaving the life you knew and loved, including your best friend (and a little more), JJ Maybank. But he isn’t ready to hear what you have to say on your last night together. 

Rafe Cameron

Series: 

Fire and Storm - Rafe Cameron had always wanted her. He wanted to be hers and he wanted her to be his. But she wasn’t and he was slowly beginning to realize that he never would be. (this is Rafe’s POV for a bit of another series, Ocean and Alcohol)

Requests: 

Better -  Secretly dating Rafe as JJ Maybank’s sister isn’t the easiest thing, especially when your brother finally learns the truth. 

Imagines: 

Meant to Be Yours -  Rafe Cameron, your boyfriend, was more broken than you realized. He wants more from you than you can give. (based on the song “Meant to Be Yours” from Heathers the Musical)

John B

Imagines: 

Girl Crush -  You spent years yearning after John B, your best friend. You just didn’t realize it until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on the island...and it wasn’t you. After that, only Sarah Cameron was on your mind. (based on the song “Girl Crush”)

Tethered - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) Surfing the surge was a Pogue rite of passage. You had been waiting for the next big storm to show your older brother that you were ready to be one of them. But the storm was stronger than you or your brother could have imagined.

Just Come Home - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) You come home one day to find your brother bearing harsh news. 

Series:

By Dawn - (1, 2, 3) John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message...the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her.

Sarah Cameron 

Imagines: 

Girl Crush -  You spent years yearning after John B, your best friend. You just didn’t realize it until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on the island...and it wasn’t you. After that, only Sarah Cameron was on your mind. (based on the song “Girl Crush”)

Kie Carrera 

Imagines: 

For Forever -  When you’re parents find out that you’ve been secretly dating your best friend, Kie, they go off on you. Afterward, she comforts you, reminding you that blood doesn’t mean family. (tw: homophobia, found family to the max) 

she -  As a Pogue, having a crush on Kie Carrera was almost a prerequisite. You knew that all the boys were crushing on her, at least a little bit, but accepting your own feelings for her is a different matter. (reader has a crush on Kie but isn’t really ready to admit her feelings) 

Requests: 

Nothing More -  You’re secretly dating one of the Pogues and your brother is starting to become suspicious. The only problem; he’s fixated on the wrong friend.

Pope Heyward 

Imagines: 

Nothing to Prove -  Pope helps you with some relationship problems. Later, while hanging out with your boyfriend, you realize that running from your fears got you nowhere and the only place you wanted to be was with Pope. (very soft)

Delivery Boy - With an absent mother and a distant father, you’ve always felt alone living in your empty house. But a certain delivery boy might be the one thing that makes running an estate worth it.

Seires: 

Bare Bones -  (Preview, Theory 1, Theory 2, Theory 3) Pippa Cantu has always been a little…strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

Kelce 

Series: 

Simple Melancholy -  (2) Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce’s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to.

General (Everybody)

Imagines:

Do Not Stand - One of the Pogues passes away and leaves a message for her friends. Each of them take it in a different way. 

Series: 

Little Village - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, Finale)  As the oldest of the Pogues and John B’s big sister, June always acted as their mother. She helped with assignments and studying, helped pay bills when it was needed, made dinner, reminded them about hygiene. But then she got pregnant and her boyfriend left and suddenly she found herself unable to do all those things she was once able to. When they say it takes a village, she wasn’t entirely sure they meant a bunch of teenagers. (post-canon, I haven’t decided who the love interest will be or if there will be one at all, so that’s why its here)

Requests: 

Homeward Bound -  After spending years abroad at a boarding school, Kie’s sister returns to the Outer Banks. The Pogues quickly realize that, despite her cold exterior, there is a free spirit inside her just longing to break free. 

A Bunch of Love Stories Masterlist - A series of fics based on Taylor Swift’s album “Fearless”. 

Outerbanks Playlist - This is just a list of songs that remind of the Pogues and other characters in the show. A few of the songs are connected to some of my fics as well! 

ATLA Masterlist

Zuko

The Sun, The Moon, and the Stars - She is a non-bender from the Southern Water Tribe who somehow found herself smack in the middle of Fire Nation central, where a young prince is fighting an internal battle she hopes to help him win.

Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley 

warm - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge. 

Severus Snape

The Other Her -  Severus Snape had two friends while he was at school. One, every body knew as Lily Evans. The other was you, an unknown student who wanted nothing more than to be noticed by your friend. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the Gryffindor heartthrob every time he mentioned her name.

Only One -  You return to Hogwarts years later to watch your son’s Quidditch match, only to find yourself a little bit in over your head.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek Morgan

breathe again -  he saved her life and now she has to deal with the aftermath. he’s there to help her every step of the way.

Aaron Hotchner

dark of the night -  an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her. 

The Musketeers (BBC) Masterlist

Porthos

enough for you -  the wife of a musketeer reflects on her relationship with her husband while Porthos watches from the sidelines.  

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

baby, kiss it better - m. tkachuk

I saw a 13-minute video last night just called “the Tkachuk brothers annoying people” and immediately got an idea. Two and a half hours later, this was the result. Title is from cardigan off of Taylor Swift’s masterful new album folklore. Listen if you haven’t, and let me know what you think of this (and the album!)

——

You glanced up at the arena clock. 4:12 left in the first intermission. Taryn rubbed your shoulder lightly, catching your attention. “You good? You’re looking a little on edge.”

You blinked a few times, shooting her a tight smile. “Yeah. It’s good, I’m good. Just a little tired, nervous since the team’s down.” The score was 0-2, Vancouver having gotten in two early goals that the Flames hadn’t been able to catch up to. 

“There’s still 40 minutes of play,” she said, shrugging, “so don’t get too worked up. Weirder things have happened.”

This smile was a genuine one. “Fair.”

Chantal shuffled back into her seat, precariously balancing two trays of food in her left hand while trying to hold her phone in her right. “Hot dog for Taryn, and nachos for you, love,” she said, passing the chips over. 

“Thanks, mom,” you said. You and Matthew had been married for just under two years, but it still never ceased to amaze you how welcoming his family had been, straight from the start. It had never been a question of if you’d “fit in” or not with them; you were treated like a second daughter from the moment Matty brought you home to St. Louis. His mom was beyond grateful her son had finally found someone to tamp down his attitude, Brady loved having another person on his side when he’d chirp his brother, and Taryn was excited to finally have another girl around the house. You loved your own parents, but being grafted so easily onto the Tkachuk family tree was something unexpected but so, so welcome nonetheless. 

It had become something of an annual tradition to have them fly in for a week or so at least once during the season, usually at some point between Matthew’s birthday in December and your own in March. Keith was tied up with something back in Missouri, so he had sent his regrets and his wife and daughter on a plane to Calgary in his stead. They stayed in one of the spare rooms in the house you and Matthew had bought just before the wedding, a gorgeous slate gray four-bedroom on the edge of the city. It had an enormous yard that was practically begging for a dog, so you had dragged Matty to the animal shelter right after returning from your honeymoon in the Seychelles. Cocoa was the other love of your life, an exceedingly friendly lab mix whose chocolate brown eyes had captured you the moment you saw her. 

But Chantal really had turned into your second mom, even outside of your relationship with Matthew. You hung out with her and Taryn on your own accord during the off-season, and on more than one occasion Matty had walked into your bedroom only to see you on FaceTime with his mom. 

“It’s nothing,” she said, waving you off. “I know how you feel about cheese.” It’s true, you had an ongoing love affair with cheese. 

You bent down, taking a sip of water before replying to a text, slipping your phone back into your jeans pocket. You had never been the type of person to check your phone during games, even when Matty wasn’t on a shift. You were his wife, sure, but you were a hockey fan before you ever met and would rather step on a Lego barefoot than miss a single second of the action. The referee dropped the puck at center ice and the second period began. 

Midway through the period, they had cut the Canucks lead by half, Lindholm sneaking a wrap-around goal in the fourth minute, but were still trailing by one. The frustration was beginning to show. Chirps were being thrown more freely, hits got a little dirtier, and more than a few sticks had been banged against the wall in frustration on the home bench. Which is why it wasn’t particularly surprising when Matty dropped the gloves after a decidedly nasty cross-check on one of their rookies. 

Matty got into fights. It’s what he did, he was an enforcer; you knew that when you met him, starry-eyed and 21 and about to finish college. Even with the league’s increasingly restrictive rules on fighting, he always found a way around them. And if he couldn’t find a way around them, he just broke them. There was a reason he led the team by a mile in penalty minutes. You had long since accepted that some nights your husband would come home bruised and battered, a little worse for wear. It was the part he played on the team, and since he had been named captain after Giordano’s retirement, he felt a newfound responsibility to look after his team even more than before. Especially the new players, and especially the rookies. He remembered the feeling of being lost in a new city, in a country that wasn’t his own, with next to nobody that he actually knew. Nobody fucked with his boys, not on his watch. 

Like the rest of the thousands of fans, you watched the fight. You were invested. You played with the hem of your jersey, the same one Matty had given you for your first anniversary when you were dating. You were as proud as anyone wearing it to games back then, and the sentiment hadn’t changed after more than three years. All that was different was that you were wearing a jersey that had your last name on it too. 

Fights rarely made you nervous anymore. Hockey was a rough game, and fighting was a part of it. Everyone knew Matty could hold his own, and despite his devil-may-care attitude, he was usually good about not picking fights he didn’t think he could win. But all of the bets were off as soon as the gloves were thrown and the fists went flying. 

For the first few seconds, it seemed like Matty had the upper hand; he had grabbed a hold of the other player’s collar and had managed to land a few well-placed punches, but his lead was short-lived. He lost his footing for just a moment, but the Canucks player saw an opening and moved in, landing hooks and uppercuts and jabs that Matthew barely missed. The linesmen tried to move in, break up the pair, but they shook them off. Matty tried to land a punch with his left hand, but he missed his face and hit the helmet. The close-up on the screen broadcast his wince for the whole crowd to see. You felt a pang in your heart. As much as you understood that this was his job, this is what he was meant to be doing, it never got any easier. He tried to take a jab with his bad hand, an ill-advised decision that led to him cursing not-so-under-his-breath. The Canucks player missed one, harmlessly hitting the air above his head as Matty ducked. Then he just barely grazed his neck. 

And then he didn’t miss one, his fist leveling with Matty’s cheek. He lost balance, his skates coming out from under him as he fell to the ice, first his shoulder, then his head. You thanked God that he hadn’t been so stupid as to take off his helmet, but you didn’t like how he landed on his hand and how slowly he was getting up. The athletic trainer jogged out on the ice, kneeling next to your husband as your hand shot out to the chair on your left, fingers interlacing with Taryn’s as you held your breath, waiting for him to get up. And he got up a minute or two later, but there was blood and gauze and he had to be supported on both sides, gingerly skating off the ice and going straight to the dressing room. 

You tried to steady your breathing, reminding yourself that injuries happened all the time in sports, that half the time they weren’t nearly as bad as they looked, and that Matthew was one of the toughest people you knew and he would fight tooth and nail to get back out onto the ice barring anything extreme. 

Play continued for a few minutes. You broke your “no-phone” vow and pulled it out, flipping it over and over in your hands as you glanced down at the home screen, waiting for a text to come through. He knew to call you if it was something serious, or to get someone else to contact you, but leaving you hanging wasn’t something he was known for. At the next break in the action, an icing call against Vancouver, the PA system crackled to life. “Number 19, forward Matthew Tkachuk, will not be returning to the game following an assessment by the team’s medical and athletic training staff.” A nervous ripple of whispers chorused through the crowd. You gripped Taryn’s hand so hard you thought you’d break it. Your knuckles were so tight you feared they’d split. He’d never been pulled from a game after a fight; five minute majors here and there, once or twice a season he’d get a game misconduct and be thrown out for ten, but never in your entire relationship had it been his injuries that kept him from playing. 

You turned to Taryn and Chantal, your eyes wide-open in fear and your heart racing. Fuck it, you weren’t going to wait for someone to give you permission to see your own husband when he was probably in the worst shape you’d ever seen him. Chantal’s expression mirrored your own; she knew this feeling, she’d dealt with it for the twenty years her sons had played hockey. She looked over at you, mouthing three words. Go to him. You frantically nodded, squeezing Taryn’s hand before shooting up from your seat, grabbing your bag and shoving the strap over your head. One way or another, you didn’t think you’d be back. 

The heels of your boots clicked underfoot as you made your way out onto the concourse, following the familiar signs of the Saddledome to the private elevators on the far side of the arena. The attendant on call was an usher you knew, thank God, who opened the elevator doors immediately as you walked up. You tapped your foot nervously as the elevator descended down, down, down until it hit the lowest level, the underground corridors that were usually crowded with players, families, and media after games. It was eerily silent as you jogged through, the only sounds being your boots against the floor and the distant roar of fans as play continued. One left and two rights later, you were standing outside of the door to the dressing room, pausing for exactly two seconds to steel yourself to see whatever condition Matthew was in. Once you hand calmed your still-shaking hands as much as your body would allow you, you pushed the door open. 

You were greeted by the team doctor and the head athletic trainer, crowded around your husband, who was propped up on what looked like a massage table. His jersey and pads had been stripped off, all that remained was his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He caught your eye. “It’s worse than it looks, I promise, babe.” You gingerly took a few steps forward. Matty’s good arm, the one that wasn’t  being worked on, wrapped around your waist. He kissed you on the shoulder. 

“What’s the damage?” You asked timidly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and looking at the doctor. He finished splinting Matty’s third finger. 

“Couple minor cuts, mild concussion, sprained wrist, one broken finger,” he listed off. You sucked in a breath. He must have sensed the worry radiating off your body, because he smiled kindly at you. “I won’t lie, it’s not good, but I’ve seen worse. He should be back in a few weeks at the longest.” He turned to Matthew. “We’re done here, but you’ve got to promise me to take it easy.” He looked pointedly at you. “Listen to your wife when she tells you to slow down.” Matthew nodded, a hint of his old smile returning. “It really shouldn’t hurt much, but if it’s bothering you you can take some Tylenol. Let me know if it gets significantly worse.” The doctor zipped his bag shut, leaving with the trainer out the door and your husband with a finger splint and wrist brace. 

You carefully hopped up onto the table, carding your hands through his curls, your foreheads just barely touching. He was sweaty, but you couldn’t have cared less. “You really scared me out there, you know,” your voice said, cracking. 

Matty felt a pang race through his body, one that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical injuries. This was his wife, and he had scared her, even though it wasn’t entirely in his own hands and even though that was something he swore on their wedding day he’d never do to her. His heart broke like he broke his promise. “I’m sorry. He was about to beat up on the rookie, and I felt like I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand by and watch it when I could do something. But I worried you, and I shouldn’t have.”

You pulled away slightly, gently grabbing his good hand and running yout thumb over his knuckles. “I know, and how much you care about the boys, how deeply you care for the people in your life, is one of my favorite things about you. It’s one of the first things that made me fall in love with you.” The corner of his lip twitched up in a half-smile. “But I’ve never been scared for you in a fight before, Matty. And this scared the shit out of me, babe.”

His fingers skated up your arm to brush away the lone tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “I promised when we got married that I’d always take care of you, put your needs before my own. I didn’t do that today.”

“I get that it’s what you do, I get that you’re an enforcer,” you said, shaking your head. “And I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give that up for me. I married you for you, all parts of you. And like it or not, that includes the parts of you that beat people up on occasion.” You gave a watery laugh. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting altogether. The boys need someone to back them up, and I’m proud that you’re that person. I’m just asking you to maybe think a little more before you go to drop the gloves, you know?” His blue eyes pierced into your own, his expression softening. “This was fine when you were 21, and I knew what I was getting into back then. I know what I’m getting into now. But,” you took a shaky breath, “there’s someone else you’ve got to worry about.” 

His brows furrowed, not quite able to piece it together. You took a hard swallow. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him. “I want to bring our baby to games. There’s nothing more that I want than for them to get to see you doing what you love. But I don’t want our son or daughter to have to see their father laid out on the ice because he couldn’t keep his temper in check for once in his life.” The tears were coming more freely now, and you reached up one hand in a futile effort to try and wipe them away, while the hand that was holding yours tightened almost imperceptibly. 

Matthew’s eyes searched your face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he should have known better. This wasn’t something you’d joke about. His breath hitched in his throat. “You’re pregnant?” His heart lifted. While the two of you hadn’t been actively trying, you had gone off birth control a few months ago, having agreed that you were both open to the idea of a baby now, choosing to let whatever happened, happen. 

You nodded, a real smile emerging on your face for the first time all night. Almost on its own accord, his hand moved to your stomach, hovering over it as if he was expecting you to already be showing. You looked down at his awestruck face, silent permission for his hand to creep under your jersey, pressing flush against your stomach. “How long have you known?”

You tilted your head. “I found out two days ago, just before I left to go pick up Taryn and Mom from the airport.”

“Do they know?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I wanted you to be the first. I was going to tell you this weekend, but…” 

“Plans change.” You nodded. 

“How far along are you?”

You met his eyes. “Eight weeks.” Matty silently cursed himself. He wished you had been able to do it how you wanted. He leaned into you, ghosting a kiss over your lips that enchanted you and comforted you and took your breath away all at the same time. He pulled away. “I promise I’ll take a step back from the fighting. You’re right that it’s my job, but this, you, will always be more important.” He took a deep breath. “Being your husband is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. But this,” he breathed, running his thumb over your skin under his jersey, just above where your son or daughter the size of a raspberry was, “being a dad?” His voice cracked. “I’m never going to do anything better. I don’t care if we win the Cup, or I get into the Hall of Fame, or sign the biggest contract the league’s ever seen. You and this baby are the most important people in my life. And I swear I’ll never do anything again that could make you question that.”

He kissed you again, but this one was different. This one grounded you, somehow communicating all of the guilt, and confusion, and happiness he was experiencing without saying a single word. “And I’m so, so happy about this, babe. Do you know how happy I am?”

It was a little bit of a rhetorical question, but you smiled anyway. “Really happy?”

A full-blown grin burst out onto his face. “I’m fucking ecstatic, babe. We’re having a baby. You’re gonna be a mom. I’m gonna be a dad.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but just like the kiss, these were different. Happy tears. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐒.

Tw// eating disorder.

I was thinking of how I skip meals and stuff while studying, but still people could comment on how a certain way my body has gotten. So,,,yeah. Just wanted to write a blurb on that.

Eating meals thrice a day's fun thing, kiddos.

Harry's busy with album, well you with uni to the point you've no spare time to take care of yourself. You just wakes up giving a haste kiss to him, rush to university because you were studying all last night in the guest room not to disturb him knowing how half of limps he comes back from the studio. When you're back at home he's at the studio again and you straight away flops into your sheets without eating anything, then you again get up from your nap have a bit of snack and the routine goes on for irritatingly exhausting loop.

Else when Harry's not too busy in work he checks upon you while your nose's in books, he brings you snacks. green apples. your favourite chocolates. cack-buns. whatever he could steal from refrigerator. He clings to you until you don't end up taking a break pouting adorably, "what'd ye' do without me hu? starve yourself." So you always end up giving in.

When he becomes your tutor for the mean time and it all has one ending; that's him quenching out many orgasms from you while you thrash in his lap, him fuckin' you raw because he has missed your warmth too passion, him teasing you not letting you focus on what you're studying. That's the worst one from all of the above because when he does that he doesn't stop and it drives you insane.

When sometimes you're too stubborn he grabs you by ankles making you squeal in amusement and throws you on his shoulder to drag you to the nearest diner and swear you look like panda wearing his tattered t-shirt and pyjamas.

He doesn't let you sit in another room and study alone, whining that he couldn't sleep without you in his arms and he used to sleep on you listening to the buzz of whatever you were reading, cheek smashed against your tummy arms coiled around your waist.

That indeed caused you weakened eyesight from focusing under the night lamp. But, you loved it how he always tried to make you stick to him now he couldn't you miss him and his care.

Dinners long forgotten. In breakfast you eat cereal in the same bowl Harry did moments ago before leaving you have time for nothing, and in lunch you fill your system with cold coffees.

Now. You were free after your exams hanging out with your classfellows for few hours before going home and seep into your sheets for two damn days.

"Looks like you gained weight, during this semester." One of your classmates told you with a weird pull of her brows and you chuckled nervously not knowing what to say, the plastic cup of cold mocha in your hand getting sweaty.

"Pfft. She looks fine. This one was hectic for all of us. Y/n you look great." There's a huge lie under it because you look sodden and emotionally traumatised, you know it people don't need to butter things up for you.

You excused yourself from the hangout. You looked at delcious mocha with watering mouth and yearning gaze but you gave it to the homeless little girl in your way considered how many carbs it contains.

You rambled to yourself. Muttering under your breath what you'd have said to her. 'Maybe beacuse I'm happy and when you're happy your heart makes more blood. Maybe I'm hanging out with my friends more often eating to my fullest and maybe I enjoy having late night snacks with my boyfriend.'

But you were doing none of that so you couldn't have said that to her.

When you stepped inside your home it was smelling appetizing, again watering your mouth and making your stomach growl loudly.

When you padded inside Harry was making pasta for you in the kitchen singing a melody to himself most probably of his album. He's glowing from hanging out with his friends, writing songs, and singing them whole day at studio but you're not you feel miserable.

At some point you had thought of dropping out and end this shit for real but looking forward to Harry. How he faces every hardship and never gives up, you did not too. You're always gonna idolise him.

Harry notices your presence and he wide spreads his arms for you to just cuddle into him. Wooden spatula in his hand and he grins brightly at you, "c'mere puppy. made pasta fo' m'girl." You didn't felt like eating it. Not because you're not hungry. You're fucking starving but your stomach has gotten accustomed to be empty all the time that it's feeling like a mission to fill it.

"M'not hungry. Had lunch already." You muttered lying to him walking past him to your shared room and his brows rocketed to his forehead surprised that you didn't fled in his arms as you usually do, not even a peck on his cheek, not an appreciation that you'd eat it after your nap.

You're a bit cranky, stressed and all over the place. You don't want to take it all out in him because you know you'd say mean things just as "I missed you so much, but all you cared was to enjoy yourself with your friends and make songs with them." . "Duh. Only if I could be a singer who doesn't needs to do anything." Or "you didn't once checked upon me." Because you know that would be your nonsensical words but it would really hurt him.

Not changing into comfortable clothes you dived into your sheets sleeping on your stomach. Harry felt alone and sad even though you guys aren't being that close for months despite of some quick sex in shower and when you or him badly needs a release.

He didn't even touched his home made pasta putting it in container and storing it into fridge. His ears perked up at your moans, only realizing that those were moans of pain. You were groaning in your sleep from the headache and cold sweat breaking all over you, you're feeling nauseous even in your sleep too.

Harry was by your side resting his hand atop your shoulder and he found you bathed into sweat, pulling his bottom lip he frowned running his thumb in circles at the nape of your neck.

It's so unlike of you. To not change and brush your hair before going to bed. He turned you around, "shh. sh. baby 's me Harry." He whispered when you whimpered snuggling your face to his folded thigh and tucking your hands in between your own thighs like a sandwich.

He stroked your blazed flushed cheeks with the back of his index finger. Taking in the slightest of features that looks worn out, he really missed you and he kinda feels bad that he got so engulfed into everything that he forgot to check if you're okay.

He pecked your lips removing duvet from over you changing your clothes only leaving you in your panties and your favourite rolling stone shirt of his's. He massaged your soles and ankles a timid smile creeping at his lips at the memory how he used to give you head and back massages. He missed being by your side too.

It was past midnight and you were still into deep sleep. Concerned Harry gently tapped your shoulders kissing your forehead, "bubba. wake up darlin' you haven't eaten anything." Only if Harry knew how it has become a routine.

You woke up with little yawns and cute rubs of eyes making your Harry giggle and shower you in his loud wet kisses. The storm had yet to come. When your eyes fell over your clothes anxiety ignited in all of your body and you pushed him not even glimpesing at the awfully hurt eyes he got after that.

You quickly covered yourself with duvet with wide eyes stuttering, "why did you changed my clothes." You don't want him to look at you when you're so out of shape and not feeling physically appreciative in yourself even though you're exactly how you were before.

This's what happens when someone puts the seed of insecurities inside you.

Harry did what he has been doing the whole day, frowned in confusion he doesn't want to think you're done with him and doesn't loves him anymore but it's flickering through his mind.

"M'sorry, jus' thought that I always used to change you. You wouldn't mind." At this you strewned your lip inside not to cry at your situation how do you tell him what you're feeling?

He fumbled with his rings. Shaking your head you stood up but a train of dizziness making you knock your knees with the beds foot and Harry was on his feet wrapping you in his arms.

"You need to eat. m'not takin' any excuses. When was the last time you ate?" He was furious at you. He doesn't care if you push him this time too. He loves you too much to let you ruin your health like this. When even you forgot that what was the last time you ate a proper meal He shook his head in exasperation.

The door to ensuite bathroom was open wide as he sat a tray of pasta and two plates infront of you, his head craned in your direction as you examined yourself in the bright lit mirror.

Pinching your slightest pouch then turning a little to have a proper look of yourself. Harry didn't said anything he just observed you joining the dots clearing his throat, "come to me, pet." He made space for you and you tried to give him a smile that came out wavering.

Eating in silence. After, so much time it feels like eating a proper meal's a blessing but you couldn't eat much giving it to Harry and he took it from you kissing your head.

"Sorry." You mumbled and he stood taking the trays with himself raising his finger in air gesturing you to wait.

He waddled back not thinking twice and taking you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair as you did into his sweater cuddling closer to him.

"I know you're not feelin' good. Bad days happens with all of us." His lips lingered over your hair and he's missing the usual smell of your shampoo. He smoothed down your arms and it's the proper cuddle you're sharing after so long.

"Whateva' goin' with you tell me whenev' you're ready." His finger tucks under your chin thumb circling over your softest skin.

You just wanted to let it all out but decided against it thinking you're gonna get back to normal and everything would be okay.

Sensing your hesitation just from the beats of your heart he reminded you looking you straight in your eyes, "remember. I'm gonna love you forever and always. Whateva' it takes for m'body to."

You nodded giving a chaste kiss to his lips and both of your eyes fluttered at that warmth, his fingers dipping into your hips.

Next day you were way better. Hanging out with Harry's bestest friend at café near your home, Harry has his arm slinged around your shoulder keeping you close to him as he talked joyously.

"What would you like to eat bunny? Brownie?" He asked you knowing how much you love brownies. If anyone wants to have their way to your heart it's always brownies and chocolates.

When you first started dating Harry, he knew how much you loved chocolates so he would bring a box of different chocolates with one tulip everytime he used to visit you. He used to fed those delights to you (with a kiss in return of each) so much that you had a sugar crash once which isn't your proudest moment.

You shook your head at which his friend quips, "ooooh dieting miss?" Then that same damn insecurity came back rushing to you and when you looked down then to her asking her innocently Harry's heart broke into millions pieces, realization dawning on him with a jab.

"Do you think I need to diet?" She shakes her head vigorously trying to make you understand that her intention wasn't to make you feel bad, "hey no. you're perfectly healthy I was just teasing you." You nod at her with a little "oh." and after that Harry felt you zoning out away from him emotionally.

At home on your bed while Harry rummaged through drawers for your favourite sushi socks you pondered over everything quietly, it's frustrating him. Your silence's killing him. He wants his bubbly bunny back who used to hop in excitement, who used to crack boomer jokes with him, who used to eat brownies and chocolates like it's her last sweetness.

"Bunny..." He gave a squeeze to your ankle after slipping your feet into warm socks, "talk t' me yeah? 'S killin' me." You sapped your teeth into your lower lip.

"It's been hard Harry. Very very hard." He cradles your jaw and you continued, "my head used to ache so bad while studying, eyes used to sting and I stopped eating anything...." Tears bearing at your eyeline and Harry scoots closer to you. He feels awful.

".....n' and you weren't there. I missed you so much you know...wanted to sleep in your arms after a long day...." You were full on sobbing now and Harry's own lip wobbled he can't see you crying especially when he's the reason.

"M' s' sorry baby. Such a dickhead I'm." He wipes your tears with his hands lost inside you hair and thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

"Then again people had to throw it on my face that I've gained extra fats—" Harry grunted at this nose flaring, "who the fuck told ya—oh my god." His eyes enlarging and he felt so fucking remorseful that this's what you were insecure of from days.

"Listen to me y/n. You're exactly like how you were baby. Except more beautiful. Don't let any man, any woman to tell you that you're not. Don't let 'em hurt ye' bunny." He pulled you in his lap kissing your cheeks as you cried into his shoulder and he let you because you need it.

"Never hide your body from me bubba. You know that I worship it with my whole heart." He murmured and now you're full on crying with breath hitching, hiccuping like an innocent baby.

"M' an' awful person." He protested knuckles feathering your jaw, "no you're not."

"Yes I'm. You love me so much and–and I wanted to say mean hurtful things to you." You huffed at him when he smiled musingly, "because I was the one never giving my all lovin" to you how you deserve in the very first place. No' made sure you were eatin' properly or not, you know how worried I got findin' you practically drenched with sweat in bed that day? It was because of your low blood pressure."

He squeezes you in his arms, sponging light kisses at the side of your neck while you closed your eyes and he slipped his hand under your shirt tickling you hooking his thumb in your belly button.

"I'll love your soul in every body." His affectionate words soon turned into cheeky ones, "anddd yeh' know how much I like pregnant women."

You giggled at him smacking his shoulder but he captured it interlacing your fingers kissing the gap of your each knuckle.

That night. You guys made dinner together eating it with a big smile and gratefully for Harry you licked your plate clean.

"Sweets?" You asked him with a lowered gaze and a tilt of your head. He tapped his lips teasingly straddling you over his thigh and a moan fused into warm air when your lips slotted into perfect missing puzzles.

He admired. Sipped. Adored every inch of you tasting your mouth while his fingers kissed the dip of your waist and thighs.

"Hmm. Close your eyes open your mouth." He pecked your lips placing his thumb over your tongue and you obeyed closing your eyes shut.

Soon his thumb was replaced with dark sweetness and you instantly got on what he has done, immediately opening your eyes chewing the chocolate. Tangerine bursting on your tongue as the chocolate cracked open.

"Such a cute little mouth chews just like a bunny." He moans against your lips swiping at the hint of chocolate on your lower lip and you mumbled an appreciative 'thank you.' to him which was soon captured by his own mouth in the form of passionate kiss.

.

P.s: I freakin' love chocolates and this whole situation I wrote it on me because I know I've alot of people struggling through the same difficulty the thing's we've to be our own Harry.

[princessjaqulinechess1031]

Interesting

Description: Damian and Marinette have a rainy day date.

Characters: Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The rain poured down on Gotham, the streets lit up with the headlights of cars and the reflection of light posts off the thin flood of water on the street. Damian and Marinette sat inside the café, steam rolling up from their coffees and twisting the smell of mocha and cinnamon from Marinette’s coffee up into their noses. Marinette took a sip of her coffee, looking out of the window with a sigh and leaned her head against her hand.

“I love the smell of the rain,” Marinette said softly. Damian raised a brow.

“You can smell the rain?” Damian asked. Marinette nodded, her pigtails bouncing.

“Oui. Can you not?” Marinette said. Damian shook his head.

“Smells like a normal Gotham day to me,” Damian said. “What does it smell like to you?”

Marinette sighed and leaned back in her chair with a smile.

“Like…..fresh paper and the wafting of flowers,” Marinette said. Damian grinned at her.

“Sounds like a lovely smell,” Damian said. Marinette nodded. It was, it was one of her favorite smells. It reminded her of busy days back in the bakery of her youth, when the rain was pouring, and Papa and Maman would bake fresh bread with her. Even now, she could almost feel the heat of the oven and the laughter of her parents. Oh, how she missed them.

She used to not be able to think of them without at least one tear. But now…now she could think of them with a smile, without the marring that Hawkmoth had left on her family. A hole would always be left in her heart in the shape of her parents, but the hole was scabbed over. Still there, still in pain, but no longer bleeding blood so thick it threatened to drown her.

She heard a rustling in her bag, and she looked down to see Tikki’s antenna poking out. Marinette smiled and broke off a piece of the muffin she had bought and brought it down for her kwami to eat.

Damian laughed under his breath at the motion. “Tikki hungry?”

Marinette nodded and then shut her bag again once she was certain her little friend was fed.

“Thankfully, Tikki is much nicer about it than Plagg,” Marinette chuckled. Damian rolled his eyes.

“I’m the son of a billionaire, and I still don’t know how Adrien manages to afford to feed Plagg,” Damian joked. Marinette giggled and Damian reached across to peck a bit of her muffin off. Marinette playfully slapped his hand away but let him get away with a piece anyway.

“My muffin,” Marinette said in a mock-stern voice. Damian popped the piece of muffin into his mouth with a smug grin, and Marinette had to fight not to roll her eyes.

“You could have got your own,” Marinette said, “if you’re so hungry.”

“It’s more fun if I steal it from you,” Damian said. Marinette sipped her coffee, relishing the warm taste in the cool Gotham air. Though it was warmer in the coffee shop than out in the open, the rain put an inescapable chill that was impossible to ignore.

“My maman, she used to make the best muffins,” Marinette said. The scab clenched but did not reopen. “She used to make orange blossom muffins, and they were the best in all of Paris.” She smiled wistfully, eyes glistening as her mind wondered to a different time and place. “She taught me how to do it, but the first few times I just burnt them all!”

Damian chuckled. “I’m sure Alfred would let you make them some time, if you asked.”

“Do they sell orange blossom in America?” Marinette asked. Damian shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Damian said. “I don’t often do the shopping. I’m sure Alfred has his ways though.”

Marinette had to agree with him on that one. The Wayne family butler and closest confidante she was sure could take over the world, procuring orange blossom was probably a drop in the hat for him.

“Monsieur Pennyworth probably could,” Marinette said. Damian laughed once, lightly, and then crossed his arm on the table.

“Maybe you could teach me? My mother was never one for baking, so I never learned,” Damian said, eyes downcast. From all that Marinette had heard of one Thalia al Ghul, it sounded completely character for her to never teach Damian something as simple as baking. Or spend the time to teach him, regardless. Damian was never one to ask for help, so Marinette was obliged to agree to teach him.

She reached across and laid her hand on top of his.

“Of course, ma moitié,” Marinette said. “Maybe I can teach you the family secret for croissants!”

Damian laughed under his breath. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Marinette looked outside and noticed that the rain had let up to only a small drizzle. She picked up the pink umbrella by her seat as she stood, sticking out a hand to Damian as a symbol to follow her.

“Come on, let’s head back while the rain has calmed down,” Marinette said. Damian took her hand and followed her out. Marinette held the umbrella in one hand and her coffee in the other. Damian had discarded his when they left, saying it wasn’t that good anyway, but Marinette figured it was an excuse to take the umbrella from her so he could hold her hand.

Which he did after about a minute. Because Damian had already asked one vulnerable thing of her (to teach him how to bake), and so asking another was out of the question. Damian was a softie deep down under his grumpy veneer, but very rarely could he express that tenderness verbally. And Marinette was fine with it, if it meant she got to hold his hand.

The tip of Marinette’s boots wetted just a little, and she knew she would have to let them dry for a day or two before she could wear them again.

They walked in silence with their hands connected as the strolled through the drizzly day of Gotham back to the Manor. Marinette shut her eyes and leaned her head against Damian’s shoulder as they walked, finding warmth in him in the slight chill of the air.

“You really should walk with your eyes open, nawaret aynaya,” Damian said. Marinette hummed and opened her eyes lightly.

“It’s more fun this way,” Marinette said. “Adds danger to my day.”

Damian squeezed her hand tightly and kissed the top of her forehead.

“And being a superhero isn’t danger enough?” Damian asked softly. Marinette shook her head and propped her head up on Damian’s shoulder. The two came to a stop at the corner of a street, neither looking in front of them.

“What can I say?” Marinette said. “I’m a glutton for adventure.”

“Interesting,” Damian said. Damian leaned down and kissed her lips softly, and Marinette smiled into the kiss. Her coffee was forgotten, accidently dropped to the ground as she curled her arms around his neck. The coffee spilled on her boots, but she could not find it within herself to care.

Damian pulled away from her, looking down at her through half-lidded eyes.

“interesting,” breathed Marinette, before she reached back and brought him in for another kiss.

Notes:

it's FEARLESS day! this fic was partially inspired by the song "Fearless" by Taylor Swift, which she re-released today on the Fearless (Taylor's Version) album. I'm a Swiftie, what can I say?

Chapter Bible Verse:

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." -- 1 Corinthians 13:13.

Questions, comments, or concerns? Let me know! Have a blessed day!

[sxdmoonchxld]

Tell Me U Luv Me| MYG

Summary :  You should have stopped this a long time ago. Hell it wasn't even supposed to begin. But now it's too late no matter how hard you try you always go back to him. And now he wants you to tell him the feelings you've been hiding...the feelings you weren't supposed to have.

Genre: smut, smidge of angst, fluff if you cross your eyes and read it upside down

Theme: Infidelity

4k words

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Fuckbuddies, Bad Dirty Talk

a/n: i use to be lizardsocial, so if this seems familiar that's why.

———————————————————————

You stood outside the cracked door to his room shaking as frenetic nerves fired through the synapses of your brain. The cold draft flowing from the inky darkness escaping the room assaulted the warmth of your skin with coolness. Galvanizing waves of charged currents rushed through your bones, blunt teeth worried the inside of your lip as sizzling bubbles of anxiety, and zealous anticipation boiled in the pit of your gut.

"Are you going to just stand out there the whole night? " His voice, sonorous and smooth akin to dripping molasses reverberated softly through the quiet hallway. 

His words mixed to the distorted pulsing of the blood in your veins. Flowed so heavenly to the crashing drumline beat of your heart resonating violently in your ears. You glanced down focused on the jittery motions of your hands. Remorse and guilt waged in the jumbled mayhem of your thoughts. For a spilt second. Oh such a painful second the image of your original lover manifested itself through your cloud of ignominy. This was wrong, the truth apparent. It didn't take a genius to deduce how inequitable and sickening it is. He didn't deserve this cold dose of adultery and deceit you served him with a cum smeared smile.

But you are weak.

There were several countless failed tries, where you sought to stay away. To purify yourself of his narcotic magnetism, to expunge all late-night escapades unraveling when the moon kisses the sky. Altering to omitted memories to never resurface in the sunlit horizon. Many times there a been that expected moment of reasoning. Albeit choosing to strike post-coital when you’ve been belatedly freed from the smog of arousal. Momentarily sated with the pulsating of your cum filled cunt. It’s usually then, only then you find yourself with the urge - the need to flee. 

To be spooned in the warming embrace of your loving, naive boyfriend. To shield you from the freezing chills of your sins, and help sooth the pain as you reflect on your harrowing actions. Pathetically the shame, pain and regret are wistfully short-lived emotions, forgotten like an old childhood toy. Not soon after, in their place the yearning begins. Boiling at odd hours in the night, symptoms of withdrawal surfacing, devising you desperate.

Oh so fervent

Aching - desirous for your next moment with him.

He is slick and cunning like a snake. Coiled in captivating colors, poisonous, yet so enticing. He was no good for you, it was no secret. But when it all bubbled down to a concentrated thought. You were like a drug fiend, addicted to the empirical taste of his angel dust. Caught deep in the sweet down spiraling remedy that was Min Yoongi. He was the proverbial forbidden fruit and the serpent mix into one deadly package. 

Not much coaxing was needed to take a bite. His tempting words and intoxicating presence was just enough to seal your fate. So with unsteady sock laden feet, your body propelled toward the dimmed room. The creator of your greed and secret ruler of your body waiting just beyond the door.

“I didn't think you were coming."

How funny. In a pathetic way that is. He didn't think you were going to come? Where could he possibly get that idea from? Admittedly it's been a while since the last encounter with busy and conflicting scheduling keeping you apart. Though not once have you missed that hypnotizing tune that always led you to him. Not once have you denied him a chance to ravage a body that was never his from the beginning.

“Did you finally get him to fall asleep?”Yoongi mused, the bed creaking lightly as he rose from lying down. You watched as he began walking towards you with a steady gait. The lamp on his nightstand casting a shadow to hide the right side of his face. Shivering you nodded, a small shaky smile of fondness playing on your lips as you reminisced your boyfriend's excitement over their new album.

"Good. You know how restless Namjoon gets when we have new material on the way." Spoken like a man who knew his best friend, his fucking brother. Yoongi was right though, it took time and patience to soothe a riled Namjoon. 

Listening to hours of animated rambling, chatted amid eye-watering yawns and repetitive strokes through chemically damaged, yet soft and lush strands of hair. Though once his burning enthusiasm trickled down to a burnt-out wick, he was dead to the world.

"Yeah. I know." You responded with stifling discomfiture, a wave of salty transgression washing on the sandy banks in your chest. It was an unspoken rule. Namjoon was not to be mentioned in the immoral extent of you and Yoongi. Not to be slandered and tainted with the actions that would inevitably condemn you to hell. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about him while in this place, in this position; in this context. It served no relief. Only proving to be a conduit of neglected emotions that would be mulled over in the future. 

You flinched at chilled forearms enclosing around your waist. The thin silk material of your nightgown, ineffectively blocking the cold press of his fingertips against the lower portion of skin on your back. Yoongi habitually kept it cold in his room. He joked claiming he liked the way your nipples hardened to stiff little nubs when they met the air. Yet he knew the biting element of his room did naught to rouse your body. It was him, simply him.

"I've missed you," he spoke soft and sweetly with cool lips resting patiently below your ear. His heated breath a spreading raised goosebumps to the surface of the skin on your neck. Pulling back to glance at him, you internally gasped. The verve burning in his eyes as he stared at you unwaveringly, was startlingly surprising. The passion swirling in his chocolate orbs were strange but not unfamiliar. Still, they held his desire and lust, but there was something else mixed in that was unknown, and didn't belong there. It made your heart speed up and palpitate uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

Scowling, your eyes dropped at his words and your own foolish flare of emotions. Of course he missed you, but not in the same way you missed him.

"You just missed my pussy Yoongi," you said unfiltered because it was true and despite knowing that truth, you hated the way your heart pained with a tinge of sadness.

‘No! Feelings weren't to be caught’, you scolded yourself mentally. It was unfortunate enough that you were already addicted to the sex with him. A weakness that you were failingly to recover from, a flaw Yoongi exploited with sick joy. The extent of this relationship carried no purpose beyond a way to release the sexual tension. 

Temporarily rectified by secretive fucking behind his best friend and your boyfriend, Namjoon's back. Any feelings could and would utterly ruin you, except in the recess of your mind, you knew it was too late. The opening for evacuating slipped through your fingers the moment you opened your legs for him.

"It's okay because I've missed your cock." You tried cooing seductively, the partial lie trailing with the hand maneuvering between your frames as you lightly palm him through his sweatpants. An exciting jolt and rush of arousal raced down your spine at the discovery of his cock already at half-mast. Yoongi hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the palm of your hand rubbing slow circles on his clothed member.

"Hmm, are you sure that's all you miss?" he asked his hands languidly stroking your waist.

"I can assure you, your tight little pussy isn't all that I missed from you." His eyes burned into you like he was capable of seeing the hidden parts of your soul. Jarred, your palming slowed down to a stop. Your hands falling limply to your sides and brow bone turning down into a perplexed frown.

"Y-Yoongi, what are you talking about?" You tried pulling away from his hold, exceedingly confused to the implication behind his words. That out of place, foreign emotion whirling deeper, burning brighter in his eyes. 

This wasn't like Yoongi, in fact, it was unnervingly out of character. He wasn't one for teasing or insignificant banter. Honestly, you were surprised you were still on your feet and clothed. If this were like any another of your previous encounters, you would already be on your back. Legs lewdly spread, your gushing pussy filled to the brim, trapped in the clutches of primal fulfillment.

"W-what are you talking a-about." He mocked, tongue sucking his teeth.

"Don't try and deny it. I see right through you. In you."

Enthralled, Yoongi pushing you towards his bed didn't register in your muddled brain until the plush softness of his bedspread cradled your spine. You flinches as hands slammed down beside you caging your head in among extended elbows and bent knees straddled over trembling thighs. 

Yoongi drew his head down to your neck and like a bitch in heat, your neck craned effortlessly. Lips parting for the escape of an airy whine at his warm lips on your skin. The next Picasso in the making he nipped at the column of your neck, sucking your skin with differing pressure, painting the bare canvas with blotches of cherry and mulberry.

Another big no-no.

"Y-you can't see a-anything, because t-there is nothing t-to s-see." you lied again, stuttering terribly in between breathless pants. Yoongi chuckled, you could feel his leer against your skin.

"I can feel it-," he said with a tender lick to the blemishes littering your neck. His head moved down your chest, irritatingly feather-light pecks left by a brush of his lips. His mouth coming to rest over the swell of your breast where your heart pounded furiously below his lips. "-the way your heart beats for me."

A large hand abandoned its post beside your head, cupping a breast wrapped in delicate silk. Gently he massaged the soft tissue, alternating amidst firm and gently caresses. The meat of your breast spilling between clenching fingers. You arched your chest further into his hands, fluctuations of venereal relief rippled from his touch, your throat fluttering out moans. Warm wetness engulfed your other unused breast. Helpless you keened lustily and flagrantly, as flat teeth nipped at the hardened nub poking through the material of your gown. 

Another lusty moan rumbled from your throat as a thick tongue began laving around the bud to soothe the sting of his bite. Your nipple stiffened further the cold air hitting the wet splotch, as Yoongi detached from the fabric encased teat. With seductive chocolate feline-like eyes scorching with ardor. His gaze lingered to your exposed thighs and the bunched up bundle of cloth resting on the apex of your legs.

Your heart throbbed in a frenzy when you noticed the focus of his gaze. Was he actually thinking about eating you out? As long as this affair has been occurring, never did he perform the act, or hint at wanting to. Judging by the cockiness of his rap lyrics, its apparent he is confident in his skills. 

There was usually little to no foreplay, with your pussy easily dripping like the cock slut it has proven to be. Not much needed to be done to have you soaking for Yoongi. A couple of rough fingering thrusts with stomach coiling pressure against your g-spot and you were ready to meet him raw and ready.

A lecherous leer quirked the corner of his lips, he trained his eyes on you as he shifted down your body, his stomach now flat against the bed. You yelped when frigid fingertips seized the flesh of your thighs yanking you closer to his face. The rest of your nightgown rising up to rest in a crumpled heap underneath your breast. He snickered condescendingly at the exposure of the slick wetness coating the center of your panties. 

Unfazed, thick fingers pressed into your dampness, collecting more of your arousal in the seat of your panties. You always got so wet for him, copious fluid dribbling to catch between your ass cheeks, your cunt pulsating wildly in anticipation, eager for his next move. With no hesitation, Yoongi pushed his nose into your pussy, the tip nudged against your covered clit, shamelessly breathing in your fragrance deeply.

"I can even smell it." Another deep inhale through his nose and a hot exhale through his mouth.

“So sweet.”

He pushed your panties to the side, a trail of sticky slick following its wet departure.

"I bet I could even taste it. How much you missed me."

You whimpered, your hips shoving up in silent desperation. You wanted, no needed Yoongi to give you more. You weren't accustomed to being teased, never having to beg. Yoongi always delivered with hip bruising, backbreaking, unrestrained strokes, his cock splitting your walls in rapid succession. That was what you were accustomed too. It was what you thought he wanted, the foundation of this liaison, fast and rough fucks. This time something was off. Things were changing, his intentions shifting, and you were scared, deathly frightened. 

That even an ounce of his true affection, would overpower you. The taking over of your being complete, the tipping point of your inevitable overdose. An abrupt bloom of pleasure unfurled in your lower gut as Yoongi spread your pussy lips lewdly. The thumb of his hand hooked deep within your ribbed walls, your cunt clenched tightly around the thick digit. The stark temperature difference of his thumb and the torrid heat of his ascending tongue drew a high- pitched yelp from your throat. Searing energy blossomed through your core as the tip of his tongue flicked off your fattened clit at his first swipe. Brazen and amplified he sucked on his pink muscled appendage mouth parting loudly with a pop.

"You taste delicious, sweet like I said," he complimented before burying his face in your pussy. His thick tongue squirmed within your core joining his thumb, as it shoved as deep as it could reach before it started flicking out in an amalgam of movements liquifying your insides. You cried out helplessly throwing your head back against the mattress, your hips angled high pressed against his face to him feed more of your cunt.

"Tell me I’m better," He spoke around mouthfuls of your center. You whined, his words cutting through the buzzing vibrations in your ears. He was better than Namjoon, on a different spectrum. It was evident in how your body sang for him, how your hips ground helplessly on the twisting muscle inured so fathomlessly in your cunt. But you couldn't say it, you wouldn't dare say it out loud even though the words burned the base of your throat. That was too close in crossing forbidden territory.

"Tell me how much you missed me." His tongue drew your clit in his mouth, plush lips sucking the corded nub.

"No!" You denied him for the first time.

You just couldn't say those words no matter how much your vocals cords seized to shout the words Yoongi’s request. A muffled chuckle spilled out of him at your surprising defiance. He was calm in his movements, his thumb dragging along your walls to shift to press up against your g-spot, applying pressure with each outward stroke. His gaze was heated, staring at you over the mound of your cunt, balmy puffs of air fanning over your jumping clit as he spoke.

"Tell me how much you missed this. Us. How right this feels."

"Tell me how much better I am than him-" he demanded again. "-can he make your body sing like I can?"

"Y-Yoongi," you gasped harshly sweat permeated on your skin. Descending over the valley of your breasts in opaque pearls. You couldn't say it. Ceasing his stroking thumb, the whine bubbling in your throat was choked down by the replacement of two of his fingers. Scissoring them apart, his fingers curved on your g-spot assaulting the area with pressurized tenacity. With lips back on your clit sucking all the collected fluids down his greedy throat. Your teeth clenched together, hands fisting into the bedspread, your thighs shuddering terribly around his body.

"How much you wished, that was me fucking your pussy 5 days ago instead of him."

You gasped at his words surprise and fear mixed with lust, distorting your features into an almost comical expression. Yoongi laughed cynically.

"Didn't think I'd find out, would you kitten?"

Fucking Namjoon was more so out of guilt than some kind of vendetta against Yoongi. Namjoon was your boyfriend for fuck's sake, you couldn't go on denying him for much longer without him becoming suspicious; if he wasn't already.

"N-o, no!" Still you denied him, unwillingly to come to terms with the truth, both the latter and internally.

Toes folded in on themselves as Yoongi sped him his fingers to deep thrusting aimed directly for the spongy bundled of nerves. Your orgasm started intensified at an alarming pace, you could feel it in the way your stomach cramped. How your hips sloppily thrust toward Yoongi's face, your back arched off the bed. Soft, euphoric cries ruptured from your larynx, binding themselves onto the edge of every fleeting gaspy breath disbanding in the air. You slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your scream, the sudden snapping ties of your pleasure, hitting you with the force of a freight train. Your upper body flailed around on the bed, unrestrained portions of your legs kicking out at the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes pricked with tears and lungs suffocated as they were robbed of air.

Floating in post-orgasmic limbo, you vaguely registered his fingers withdrawal from your clenching cunt or the shuffling of his sweats pants down his hips or he hiking of your legs to perch against his waist. It wasn't until the fevered eagerness of his leaking cock head pressing against your quivering core, did you return from the clouds. 

Yoongi stroked the skin of your thighs with sticky tenderness, his face coming closer to yours to capture your chapped lips in a sweet kiss. You gasped in frail distress and shock, your heart constricted tightly within your chest. Stars bursted behind your eyes at the strange feeling of his lips moving against your own. Another act taboo in the relationship that was this. Yoongi seized the perfect opportunity to ease his tongue into your mouth, dancing with your own. He was tart with your flavor, mixed with his addicting treacle.

Gradually his cock split your glossy folds, breaching your cunt's hole with the tip of his cock. You cried out in his mouth, detaching your lips from his. A string of conjoined spittle landing on your cheek as you turned your head to the side. Yoongi's lips followed you, connecting your mouth once again as he began surging his cock, deep, deep, and deeper. The slow pace allowing you to feel the burning stretch, every eager throb of his cock, every engorged vein pulsing under his skin. 

Yoongi didn't give you much time to adjust as he started his leisure strokes. He barely withdrew before he was spearing you back on his cock, much deeper than before. Tearing your mouth from him again, you gasp with the stinging need of air, a forearm coming over to cover your face. The bright light of the lamp on his nightstand shining across your face suddenly a nuisance, as you greedily swallowed in the fresh air between mewling cries of pleasure.

"Does your slutty pussy squeeze him as tight as your squeezing me?" Yoongi grunted reducing his already sluggish pace, his hips rotating with each stroke.

Your head felt like it was ready to implode. You were overheating, short-circuiting, the blood in your veins boiling and curdling. Namjoon infiltrated your thoughts, his kind hardworking nature, how much he loved and adored you, but was it enough? Did you even love him anymore? Or were you stolen away by the man he considers his brother? It was all becoming too much, Yoongi's slow strokes and demanding queries were causing you to overthink. You needed him to speed up, to fuck your brains out so you wouldn't have to be pestered with your evolving thoughts.

"Yoongi, I-I need you to speed up. I want you to fuck me faster, fuck me harder please!" You begged as if your life depended on the tempo of his thrusts, and in a way it did, at least your sanity did.

"Shhh" he cooed. One of his hands abandoning its place on your lifted legs, to come and pry your arms away from your face. Your breath hitched as your blurry gaze focused in on the unbridled emotion raging in his dark eyes.

"Tell me I'm the one you want." He eased out of your body, grunting lowly as your cunt clutched desperately at his retreating cock.

"Tell me I'm the only one who owns you, who owns your heart." Again he sunk back within your depths.

"Tell me you love me and not him, and I'll fuck you until your coming on my cock."

Yoongi promised in one swift stroke buried deep within your cunt, speeding up his thrust to his usually relentless rhythm. You screamed in familiar delight, arms wrapping around his neck in a loop. Your breast crushed into his chest, fingernails embedded in his shoulder leaving raised red crescents. You could already feel your second orgasm approaching, your cunt enclosing Yoongi's cock in a vice-like grip, you never lasted long when he rammed into you like this. It was what you needed, the perfect escape to the feelings boiling in your chest. Another mind-numbing orgasm and he would follow suit, then you could leave and close this chapter of your life, the end of a book with a bittersweet ending.

"Oh, no you don't." Yoongi tsked. He knew the telltale signs of your orgasm, he ruled your body with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Reducing his strokes to that of a snail's pace, he laughed at your wail of frustration, a bead of sweat dropping off his body at the shake of his shoulders. How obtuse of you to think he was going to let you come without you telling him what he's been dying to hear from your lips the whole night, for months.

"Say it. Open that pretty mouth sweetheart and tell me what I want to hear." Yoongi cooed, his cock now surging into your depths with shallow, unfulfilling strokes.

"Yoo-ngi." You hiccuped clamping your eyes tight. The coiling tightness of your orgasm was still there, maybe if you concentrated hard enough-

"Say it! Tell me you love, how I love you!" Your eyes flew open, dilating to focus on a blurred image of Yoongi. Him? Love you? How? Why?

"Yes, I love you." He said smoothly, no hesitation, not an inkling of regret, just confidence and love glimmering in his eyes.

"Now. Tell me you love me too and don't lie." Yoongi reiterated with a rough thrust.

"I-I don-" your mouth opened and closed, a fish out of the water you were caught. You fell back on to the bed, a hand placed on your chest over the blood-filled organ crashing against your chest. Your heart captured by another, no longer could you deny it, deny him, deny yourself. So with a heavy heart...you told him. "I love you."

You didn't want to. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. A one-time thing, he...you let escalate too far. Now it was too late. The truth was out now, and all hell was about to break loose.

"Tell me again."

You strangled on a wad of spit at the sudden rough thrust, your teeth clanking together at the single motion. "I love you."

Yoongi groaned loudly, the loudest you think you've ever heard from him at your affectionate confession. His hands readjusted themselves off your thighs to better support himself as he began lifting his your legs to rest on your chest, your knees pushed into your breast. Immediately his hips set off at a fast pace, the slaps of his balls hitting your ass nearly rivaled the shout of pleasure or the wet slapping of where you were connected. 

Your hips met his with bruising contact, but you didn't care, the angle of his cock drilled at your g-spot relentlessly. Black and white dots floating in your vision, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Jumbled repeats of his name wretched themselves from your lips, you were sure the other boys in the shared apartment could hear your cries of satisfaction. Namjoon as well.

You didn't care, your love for Yoongi, the feeling of his cock in your guts, was the only thing on your mind. A couple of more thrust and your orgasm was ripped from you, your legs thrashing about in Yoongi's hold. The sweet pull of your cunt on his cock bringing forth his own release, and with one last surge of his hips, the bulbous head kissing your cervix, he spurted warm ropes of his cum straight into your womb. Breathlessly he dropped your legs from his hands, a mixed wad of your and his cum spilling out from around him. Gently he withdrew and fell onto the bed beside you, lowly he sighed in satisfaction.

"Tell me again."

You told him.

"I love you."