#i liked it because it didn't change my face!!!! and it took some of the yellow out of colors so my hair actually looked white in photos

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

PART THREE — [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, blowjob]. somethings changed between you and chris, but you’re a smart girl and you know what it is — telling yourself to ignore how you feel and what’s going on.

ʚ part one ɞ — ʚ part two ɞ

you walk around the house, desperately looking for bella. “oh my god, where have you been?” she looks up at you from her position on a random couch, her words slurring slightly. “i was with chris.” you mumble watching as her expression shifts to a sly grin. 

you roll your eyes at her insinuation. “shut up.” you huff, sitting down next to her.

“have you just been sat here alone?” you ask, subtly changing the subject. she scoffs, taking another swig of her drink which she definitely didn't need. “no- i was making out with some guy, but he left to get himself a drink.” she explains, her words a little jumbled.

you raise your eyebrows. “oooh, who is this guy?” you question, showing more interest in the hopes she doesn’t ask about chris. but she shuts it down, clearly more interested in your life than talking about her own.

“did you finally fuck him?” she asks, blurting out the words. you drop the act, letting out a sigh. “no, i didn't.” you mumble, pausing as you hesitate to continue. “he went down on me.” you add quietly.

she lets out a shriek, before gasping and grabbing your arm. “oh my god, was it good?” she leans in, whispering the last part.

you look over at her before slowly nodding your head, unable to hold back the grin on your face. her hand tightens on your arm. “holy shit! that good?” she questions, knowing that the way you responded meant it must’ve been really fucking good.

“would you calm down?” you usher, looking around to make sure no one was witnessing this interaction. she pulls back, a guilty look on her face as she motions locking her lips. 

“so when are you having sex?” she says quietly, clearly not abiding to shutting up. you roll your eyes at her nagging questions. to be honest, you had no idea, so you hesitate to answer.

“do you think your parents are having any effect on this?” she asks carefully. you frown. “what no?!” you exclaim wanting to deny it to the ends of the earth. but then you think, looking down as you fiddle with the bottom of your skirt. “i know i'm not gonna go to hell for having sex before marriage.” you mumble out.

bella sighs, leaning into your space. “yeah i know you know that- you’re not fuckin stupid.” you let out a little sigh at her reassuring yet slightly inconsiderate words. 

“i'm sayin, maybe you don’t wanna disappoint them.” she elaborates. 

you think for a second, her words taking you back a little. did she just completely hit the nail on the head? no, because you were gonna have sex with chris. right?

“i wouldn't disappoint them.” you mumble out. “cause i wouldn’t tell them.” you explain, trying your hardest to rationalise against bella. 

“so you’re saying you wouldn’t feel even a little guilty?” she pushes, holding her thumb and her index ever so close together.

you turn to her, pushing away her hand. “what do you know, you’re just a drunk girl with too many talking rights.” you mutter playfully.

she scoffs at your words slumping back against the couch as she crosses her arms over her chest. “wow.” she scoffs again, shaking her head. “i can't believe this.” she mumbles dramatically. 

she continues to complain, incoherently mumbling about how she was completely right and you were just stubborn. 

but you weren’t listening.

your attention was fixed on chris who you had spotted across the room. it’s like your mind and body just knew when he appeared, your gaze automatically shifting to him like an alert had gone off in your brain. 

you usually looked a few times, took note of what he was doing and then returned your attention back to whatever you were doing. 

but this time you were unable to look away, your stomach turning at the sight of him talking to another girl. 

it’s not like you’d never seen him do this before, in fact you’d probably be able to completely mimic the way he flirts just by the copious amount of times you've seen him do it.

what made you feel nauseous right now wasn't the thought of him with another girl but rather the fact that your stomach dropped at the sight. 

you’d never cared before, and that was easy. 

but watching him right now, smiling every time that stupid girl put her hands on him, ‘mindlessly’ grabbing his arm- it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

you weren’t naive, it was obviously jealousy, which came from a place that you were willing to ignore. 

“hello- i swear to god you actually just don’t fucking listen to me, like holy hell.” bella complains beside you, which makes you turn back to her.

“sorry, i'm here.” you mumble. she lifts her head back up, looking over to where your gaze was before, taking in the scene of chris flirting with some girl. 

“you told him you didn’t care if he fucked other girls.” she mumbles out unhelpfully.

you playfully smack her arm, although she’s completely right. “yeah because i didn’t.” you huff, still looking his way. 

“past tense… interesting.” she mumbles, pretending to be in deep thought. you turn back to her, your mouth slightly open in shock. “would you stop analysing me, it’s freaking me out.” you tell her, not loving her drunk personality right now. 

she holds her hands up in surrender, letting out a small giggle at your situation. “i hate you right now.” you mumble, letting your head fall to your hands.

“no you don’t.” she mumbles, pulling you into a hug. “you love me.” she mocks, dragging you down so that the both of you are slouched into the sofa, half your body on hers.

at this point you've given up the grumpy facade, giggling with her. but you both quieten down when someone approaches, a drink in their hand.

“uh, bella?”

you turn to see an attractive man with a confused look on his face. “oh my god.” she chuckles beside you as you awkwardly sit up. “this is the guy i was talking about.” she shrieks, one hand gripping his top whilst the other held onto your arm like she was introducing the two of you. 

you smile up at him awkwardly as he gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, although his attention quickly returns to bella as she tugs on his shirt.

you're not sure how it happens, but when you look up from fixing your skirt his drink is on the side and his lips are on hers.

“oh, wow.” you mutter in slight shock, shuffling along the couch as they begin to make out. “jesus.” you sigh under your breath before standing up and leaving.

you never enjoyed walking around a party alone. and sober.

you found it so awkward, especially when you were mindlessly walking with no place to be, just hoping you'd find a situation you could involve yourself in.

what you hated even more was feeling like a complete loser when the guy you'd just gotten with was taking a girl upstairs right before your eyes.

you stood in the other room, looking through the doorway as she led him up the stairs, watching like some creep at their every interaction for all of five seconds.

you told yourself you were fine, that it didn't bother you. you tried your hardest to jump back into your precious carefree mindset, trying to hone in on the old feeling.

but something had changed.

something had switched in you because all you could feel was pure jealousy and most of all dread.

was he gonna fuck her? was he gonna do exactly what he did with you? was he gonna enjoy it more?

the thoughts rattled in your head. you knew you were overthinking, but it was hard to combat the intense feeling in you with rational thoughts.

you decided on a cup of straight vodka and a cig out front, sat alone on the steps to the house.

occasionally people would walk past, either leaving or joining the party. maybe it was the increasing alcohol intake or the lack of acknowledgement from others, but for once you weren’t embarrassed to be seen alone.

“you sat all alone?”

you turn to see chris, hands in his pockets as he looked down at you with a smirk. you give him a weak nod before looking back down at your feet.

“you good?” he asked, concern in his voice as he sat down beside you. “yeah, i'm fine.” you mumble, smiling a little, usually the move that would make chris actually believe you.

“you got an almost empty cup of somethin,” he peers down at it in your hand. “and you're smokin.” he points out, making a point against your pathetic stand.

you shrug like this is your usual state. “what's wrong?” he presses, his voice slightly softer.

you're taken back by his unusual care and attention to your emotions, used to him usually just moving on when you told him you were fine.

but now how could you tell him what was wrong.

you think, swirling around the remaining vodka in the cup. now would've been a great time for him to not care.

“is this neat vodka?” he questions with a frown. you zone back in, looking over at him. “...yeah.” you mumble out. he motions towards it before gently taking it from your grasp.

he takes a swig, wincing at the taste. “you’re fucking insane.” he tells you before handing whatever was left back. 

“you're also upset.” he circles back. “or y’know- not doin too hot.” he says, evidently not very good with comforting words.

“not doing too hot?” you question, subtly trying to avoid answering the question.

he shakes his head, giving you a look. “y;know what i mean.” he huffs, his gaze turning into warmth, like he was trying to coax the information out of you with a look.

you shrug again, rummaging through your mind for an excuse, or another reason why you would feel shit. but as you think, horrendous images of chris and that girl pop up into your brain, stilling your train of thought for a second as well as your heart.

“you don’t have to talk t’me bout’ your issues.” he mumbles, reassuring a little as he pulled out a paper to roll a joint. 

you look over, snapping back into reality and out of your stupid thoughts. “it's not that- i just…” you sigh, unable to explain yourself. 

“m’just not used to you asking me shit like that.” you mumble out meekly.

the corner of his lips turn up, his eyes remaining on the half rolled joint in his hands. you take note of the small, amused reaction. “are you only asking me what's wrong because you're coked?” you blurt out, an almost shot in the dark.

he frowns a little, but the amusement on his face never leaves. “nah.” he shakes his head, denying your accusation. “might be why i'm persistently askin’.” he admits.

“big word for you chris.” you hum, mocking him in retaliation. he rolls his eyes, biting back a smile, but you could see it seeping through. the way he genuinely found you funny, even though he liked to keep you in check by never admitting it. 

“shut the fuck up.” he chuckles, shaking his head as he speaks. 

a peaceful silence settles between you as he delicately licks the paper, smoothing it over into a perfect cone. despite what he was doing, she admired how good he was. 

“i could teach ya y’know.” he says, clearly taking notice of her attention. “i don't wanna learn how to do that.” you tell him.

he shrugs, fiddling with it as he looks over at you. “why not?” he asks, like you were crazy for turning that down. “just don't.” you mumble, looking over at him.

you'd forgotten how close he'd sat, the both of you looking at one another shining a light on the lack of space between your bodies.

close enough to kiss him.

the thought flashes through you before you can even think, and now your lips are on his in a soft delicate kiss. 

you can't tell if he's shocked and frozen or just kissing back so gently it almost felt like nothing. but then his free hand wraps around your waist, caressing the skin through your top.

it's a slow careful kiss, with no intention of anything further.

he pulls away, clearing his throat a little before his hand comes back to the joint. he shifts to find a lighter, almost trying to do something to distract his mind from that kiss. 

you on the other hand stare at his very move, almost infatuated with him. it's like that kiss had put a spell on you, completely consuming your mind.

you craved the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel that soft touch from him again. but you know it won't happen again. like you'd both  been caught in a loophole, into another universe where you weren't you and chris… but you also were.

he brings the zoot to his lips, lighting it before he takes a long toke, exhaling it as his body relaxed.

you want to speak, break the silence before it becomes awkward, but it never does. the two of you sat there not exchanging a single word, which made you think that he felt it too. 

he passes the joint to you, brushing the tobacco crumbs off his lap with his other hand as he holds it out for you.

you raise your eyebrows before taking it from him, taking a small puff as he leans his elbows on his knees. “don't have too much, y’already tipsy.” he suggests.

it's not an order or a demand but rather a playful comment from a place of care. “i'm not tipsy.” you scoff, keeping up the light conversation. 

“ok fine, drunk.” he huffs, correcting himself sarcastically as he rolls his eyes. you smack his arm lightly. “i'm fine, practically sober.” you tell him, lying straight through your teeth. 

he shakes his head a little, clearly debating between staying quiet or continuing the conversation. “you initiated a kiss- you ain't sober.” he says, lightly mocking you for being tipsy.

you roll your eyes at his light insult, looking over at him before talking. “you think i wouldn't kiss you sober?” you question, your voice quiet yet clear.

his eyebrows raise at the change in vibe of the conversation as he motions for you to pass the joint back. “not like that.” he responds before inhaling. 

you squint your eyes, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “like what?” you ask, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear.  

he lets out a small chuckle at your teasing tone, loving the way you were testing him. but he doesn't respond, giving you a small look which said everything and more. 

“you're funny when y’drunk.” he mumbles with a small smile, clearly finding this whole ordeal very funny. “m’not-”

“yeah, yeah- i know.” he interrupts, motioning you to stop, not wanting to hear you defend yourself anymore. 

he focuses in on smoking as you finish the last sip of your vodka, earning a judgemental glare from him. you watch as he hesitates to speak, clearly ready to say something.

“can i take y’home?” he asks, his tone making it obvious that he was trying to keep it casual. “i'm sleeping over at bellas.” you respond in a whisper, feeling bad for indirectly rejecting his offer. 

but he just nods, not showing a single care in the world that you didn't immediately say yes. “you guys gettin’ an uber?” he asks, although it's more of a suggestion. 

you press your lips together, nodding.

“good.” he muttered before taking another toke, watching the smoke as it left his lips. 

you sit in another calm silence, something that had been happening more often. you thought that it was because of all the unspoken words between you that you would be saying in these times. but you didn't talk- at least not in the way you should be. letting every tension-filled moment pass until it faded into the past. 

he takes a final toke, flicking the butt to the floor before he stood. “lemme know if your plans change, yeah?” he mumbles out as he walks back in, leaving you sat alone again.

you go to respond but he's gone, his offer hanging heavy in the air. for once you felt yourself buckling at his words, the sudden urge to put him above all else looming over you, like he was in your head. 

did he know how to get in there? was this all a mind fuck to get you at his demand?

you turn your head to the door, almost as if you were looking at him again. god did you feel stupid for wanting him so badly, a silly little fuck boy who gave you just enough attention to get you hooked.

of course you knew all about his ways before getting yourself here, you just thought you were smart enough to not fall for it. 

but did chris’s mysterious, charming personality really trump your intelligence and self respect? 

“wait, why can't you go home?” he asks as the both of you walk down the road, you explaining that you couldn't just walk into your house this late at night. 

“because i told my parents i was sleeping over at bellas.” you say, watching as he rolls you a cigarette whilst walking. he nods a little, but it's obvious he doesn't completely understand.

“you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he hands you the cig. you put on a thinking face, slotting the cig between your lips as you search your bag for a lighter. “difficult to answer.” you ponder. “considering i'm not drunk.” you say with certainty, giving him a look.

“sorry, how could i forget.” he mumbles, bringing a lighter to the end of the cigarette. you watch as the flame lights the paper, blowing in and out to get it lit. 

you’d caved.

going back into the party to find chris, subtly hinting that you did want him to take you home. bella was more than ok with it, getting excited for you. (which you shut down quickly).

but here you were, on your way to sleep over at a boys house. chris’s house. you'd never been in his room before, and quite frankly you were shocked he even agreed to take you to his house.

but there was something comforting about how he let you in, not shutting you out, and if anything encouraging to spend more time with you. 

after walking in silence for a while, he motions you to pass the cigarette to him. “you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” you mimic his previous question as he rolls his eyes. 

“shut up.” he scoffs, holding it between his fingers as he exhaled. “m’not drunk.” he mumbles under his breath before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“huh, sure.” you scoff back to annoy him. he rolls his eyes again in response as he passes the cig back. “m’actually not drunk- so zip it.” he snarks.

“yes you are.” you tease, pointing your hand at him, smoke trickling out of the cigarette. “you wouldn't be letting me sleep over if you werent.” you continue, raising an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to your own personal space.

“would’ya stop mimickin’ our entire convo from earlier?” he accuses, his brows scrunching together. “wha- what?” you halt, holding your arms out dramatically. 

“keep walkin.” he huffs, motioning you to get a move on. but you took it as avoidance, to move away from his previous statement. 

“what convo?” you mumble as you catch up to him, a look of confusion on your face. he shakes his head, as if that's a response. then it clicks in your brain. “when you said i wouldn't kiss you like that if i was sober?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips as you look across to him.

he lets out a sigh, like he's given up when it comes to light conversation with you. and like he knew what you were about to say next.

“so what did you mean by that again?” you tease, pushing his buttons a little. he shrugs, playing it off as he casually slips his hands into his jean pockets.

“that it was a random kiss is all.” he responds. “but you said ‘like that’- what does ‘like that’ mean?” you press.

he lets out a small chuckle. “was a good kiss.” he shrugs, looking over at you. you send him a sweet smile, letting the soft compliment seep in. “oh shut up- dont look at me like that.” he huffs, turning to look the other way, but not before you spot the soft blush across his face.

no fucking way. 

“like what?” you question after a beat, just pushing him further. “okay, we're movin’ on.” he tells you warningly.

“ok, ok.” you nod, watching as he relaxes a little. you both walk in silence for a bit, abiding by his wish to stop talking.

“so what did you and that girl do?” you mumble quietly, and oh so stupidly. your words leaving your mouth before you could think, probably because of the alcohol in your system. (not that you'd admit it).

he scoffs, an amused look on his face. you couldn't tell if he was shocked that you'd asked, or somewhat admired it. but he gave the same back, answering your question just as bluntly as you'd asked it.

“she sucked m’dick.” he mumbles, looking over to gauge your reaction. 

it was hard to hide your own shock that he’d actually answered, not beating around the bush. but you nod a little, looking ahead. 

he hesitates for a second before speaking again. “why, you jealous or somethin?” he asks with a sly grin.

“do you want me to be?” you respond, just as cocky. 

he's taken back a little but doesnt let it show, shrugging yet again. he goes to say yes, but stops himself realising how that looks. “nah.” he shakes his head, looking down for a second. 

“then i'm not.” you hum, passing what's left of the cig back to him. he takes a toke, clearly thinking for a second as the both of you walk. “you don't have to be.” he mumbles, peering over at you, clearly not believing you. “could always just, y’know.” he looks down at his crotch, the suggestion clear as day.

you smack his arm, scoffing at his audacity. “you serious? is this how you get girls to do shit, use their jealousy against them?” you question, only partially joking, because of course you wanted to. 

“so you are jealous.” he points out with a cocky smirk, flicking the butt to the road. you roll your eyes, looking away momentarily. 

“fuck off.” you mutter, your cocky facade crumbling as you feel your shyness take over again. he nudges you a little, a grin plastered on his face. “don't get shy on me.” he teases. 

you simply blush at his words, only getting more and more timid. but he smiles, finding it sweet as he hangs his arm over your shoulder.

you get to chris's house, following behind him as he unlocks the front door and walks in. it's a nice house, similar to yours. 

you quietly creep up the stairs behind him, taking in his room as he opens the door. it's a typical teenage boys room, but with more posters and decorations than you thought there’d be.

“will your parents care that i'm here?” you mindlessly ask as your eyes roam over the room. he shakes his head as he empties out his pockets onto his desk that's already piled with junk. “nah, they won't come in.” he responds. 

you nod, walking over to his unmade bed to sit, taking a closer look at his bedside table, noticing a picture stuck to his wall. “you have a sister?” you question.

he whips his head round in confusion before noticing what you were looking at. “yeah, but she's in college.” he says, taking his coat off to throw it onto his chair. 

“huh.” you nod, wondering why he'd never spoken about her. but then again, when did you and chris ever sit down and talk about your family trees?

“you can borrow a t-shirt or somethin’.” he says, motioning towards his draws. your gaze follows, taking in the furniture, some of the bottom drawers not fully closed because of how stuffed they are. 

you stand, opening the top drawers to find his socks and boxers. you shut it before opening the next ones down, pulling out a random t-shirt. 

“pornstar?” you question, reading out the graphic on the shirt. he cocks his head round from where he's sat at his desk, raising an eyebrow as well as the corner of his lip. “what? you dont fuck with it?” he taunts.

you shake your head with a smile, shutting the drawer before taking your current top off to slip into his t-shirt. “got any pyjama bottoms?” you ask.

“uh, nah.” he responds, looking your legs up and down, clearly wanting you to not cover up. “don't own any.” he teases wickedly.

you roll your eyes, slipping your denim skirt off to leave you in just his t-shirt and underwear. he smirks before returning his attention back to his desk. 

“what’re you doing?” you question, walking over as you rest your hand on the back of his chair. the view of him rolling a joint answers your question as you nod, raising your eyebrows. 

you weren't one to comment on someone else's habits, but it was honestly impressive how much he smoked. 

you stand behind him, watching as he does his thing. “wanna sit?” your eyes tune in immediately, your hand dropping from the back of the chair. “oh sorry.” you mumble out, backing away to go sit back on the bed.

he turns, face contorted in confusion. “the fuck you doin’?”

“huh, i was jus-” you go to explain but he cuts you off. “meant on m’lap.” he explains, amused at your misunderstanding. 

your face heats up slightly before you stand up. “gladly.” you mumble, sauntering over to sit sideways across his lap, chris's upper body leaning back slightly to give you space. 

then he leans forward into your space, continuing his previous activity. your arm wraps around his shoulders, the other leaning against his desk that was digging into your side ever so slightly.

“you wanna crumble some in?” he offers, holding out the clay-like chunk of hash. you take it from him, observing it curiously. “you giving me a tutorial?” you tease, removing your arm from around his shoulders, leaning further onto the desk.

“somethin’ like that.” he murmurs, his eyes darting down to your ass, nothing but your black lacy underwear covering it. 

“ok, so what do i do?” you frown, completely oblivious to his ogling. “uh, jus’ use your fingers to pick small pieces off.” he instructs, now looking over your shoulder to watch your movements. “yeah, yeah. jus’ like that.” he praises as you crumble small pieces over the line of tobacco in the paper. 

he watches you closely. “make sure it's even across the tobacco.” he tells you.

“like this?” you question, crumbling more at the front and end. “uh-huh.” he nods, before his gaze lingers back down to your ass, his hand following suit as he gently squeezes the flesh.

you smile as you feel his hand on you, his fingers digging into your ass. “is this why you wanted me on your lap?” you ask, your attention focussed on what you were doing. 

he shrugs, a lazy grin on his face. “jus’ an added bonus.” he mumbles, tilting his head back to get a better look. 

“hmm, sure.” you hum back, knowing that it was all calculated. not that you minded the groping. 

“s’that good?” you ask, handing back the chunk of hash. he turns his attention back, his hands returning to the table. 

“mhm.” he hums, picking up the paper to roll it into a neat cone. you keep your arms on your lap, watching as he licks the paper and does whatever. then he taps your thigh, telling you to get off.

you scooch off his lap, chris standing up with a sigh before he lightly slaps your ass, 

“awfully touchy today.” you taunt, following as he sits on his bed, opening the window. “shut up.” he scoffs in response, clearly not wanting to address it. 

you climb onto the bed, sitting by the window opposite him, legs crossed. he lights the joint, making no effort to keep it out of the window. it was obvious that he did this a lot. 

you smoke in silence for a while, chris passing it to you before leaning against the wall. “you still drunk?” he chimes, an undertone of care and worry in his voice.

you shrug, exhaling out of the window unlike chris had been doing. “i was never drunk.” you mumble, looking over at him with a teasing glare. 

“hmm.” he nods. “so you're still keepin’ that up.” he mocks. you shake your head slightly, rolling your eyes.

“i was tipsy at most.” you huff, ashing the zoot on the window ledge. he raises his eyebrows. “so you admit it.” he retorts. you playfully shove him a little, only spurring on his cocky grin.

“you're so annoying.” you sigh, handing him the joint. “you love it.” he murmurs under his breath, taking a toke. 

you pull a face, furrowing your brows as if to deny his accusation. but you both knew it was true. 

“so how was she?” you ask, pettiness drowning out your words. he scoffs, his tongue darting out in his cheek.

“what? don’t wanna talk about it?” you taunt stupidly. maybe you were lying about not being drunk, or you just liked to prod and push him in ways he didn't like. 

“don't do that shit.” he scoffs, not quite as amused as you. but you don’t let out, just shrugging at him. “god, y’really know what to say.” he mutters sarcastically, shaking his head. 

it was stupid of you to bring it up again, especially like this. you’d told chris from the start you didn't care about other girls, yet here you were. acting like a bratty, petty girl, desperate to be his no.1 in a swarm of girls. 

“m’just curious.” you mumble, lying through your teeth.

he scoffs again, getting slightly annoyed at your attitude you were keeping up. “you're curious?” he echos, raising an eyebrow. “curious about another girl suckin’ my dick?” he snaps, his voice slightly harsher than usual.

“yeah.” you sigh, acting like this was a normal conversation, or that it hadn’t come out of the blue. he takes a toke of the joint before passing it back to you, refusing to answer by staying quiet. 

“we're friends, i don't care.” you shrug, inhaling some of the joint. “just curious.” you repeat.

he lets out a huff, reluctantly answering. “was alright, nothin’ special.” he mumbles, looking over to see your reaction.

“did you come?” you blurt out, choosing to prioritise your curiosity over the logical idea to stay quiet, absentmindedly ignoring what chris does with his dick.

he chuckles under his breath, now finding it funny how serious you were. “no.” he responds, looking over at you. 

“so, can’t have been that good.” you tease. he raises his eyebrows, letting out an amused chuckle. he didn't know if he loved or hated this side of you.

“you're on one right now.” he says, shaking his head as he motions for you to pass the zoot. 

“why?” you chuckle, acting innocent in your intentions of the horrid conversation you had started. he takes it from your hand, taking a toke before speaking. “cause you ain’t even sucked a dick before.” he retorts, knocking you down a peg or two.

you pull a face, shrugging. then something takes over your body, the same thing that has made you act like this in the first place. 

you shift in your spot on the bed, leaning forward to begin unbuckling his belt. he kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes. “the fuck you doin’?” he questions, thinking you were teasing him or pulling his leg.

“what do you think?” you whisper back, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. 

he looks down, watching your hands. almost waiting for you to stop and say that you were messing with him.

but then your hand dips below his boxers as you tug out his soft dick like you'd done it a million times. “seriously, what're you doin’?” he scoffs, thinking you wouldn't go through with it considering you’d made it pretty clear that you weren't exactly up for everything.

you sigh, looking up at him with all seriousness. “sucking your dick.” you say as if he was stupid for even asking.

his throat goes dry realising you're serious, his dick twitching as it immediately begins to grow hard as the words leave your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it a few times, before you scooch back to give yourself more space. you bring your mouth to the tip of his half hard dick, experimentally licking the slit.

he takes a toke of the joint, watching you with dark eyes, watching as he takes in the fact you weren’t bluffing.

he doesn't say anything, letting you do what you want at your own pace, turned on by the fact you'd never done this before. 

you take his dick further, going about half way as you slowly slide it in and out of your mouth. he takes in a sharp breath, his dick stiffening fully now that he was in your mouth. 

he tries not to speak, but his desperation gets the better of him. “go further.” he mumbles, his voice hoarse. 

you look up at him through your lashes before abiding, taking his dick further down your throat until you feel the need to gag, pulling off before you do.

you recover quickly though, collecting the saliva in your mouth as you duck your head back down, sucking this time, your cheeks hollowed. you don't go as deep, instead stopping before you can gag, as you bob your head up and down.

“oh shiit-” he groans, the unexpected change in pace driving him crazy. you wrap your hand around the base, pumping it as you suck him hard. “fuck, you sure you never done this before?” he breathes out, taking another look at you. 

you mumble around his dick, sending shivers down his spine.

you'd never done this before, and you were making it up as you went along. maybe part of the motivation was to prove yourself, a petty part of you wanting to make sure this was ten times better than what any other girl could give him. and maybe that extra motivation is exactly what made this a mind blowing blowjob. 

“holy fuck – you’re good at that.” he breathes out, his free hand threading through your hair, whilst he held the other out of the window with the now forgotten joint.

his praise only spurs you on, bringing out something within you that just made you want to please him, and make him feel good. 

he lets out low groans and breaths as you continue, taking on whatever he told you to do. catering to how he wanted it. 

it had been about ten minutes and you were already doing a lot more, your wrist twisting in rhythm as you harshly sucked him, your tongue occasionally darting out delicately over the tip, the way he told you he liked it.

“mgh, so fuckin’ good.” he groaned,the hand that wasnt in your hair gripping onto his duvet beneath him. the joint now out and resting on the window ledge. 

you shift your position, your ass now up, as you got into a sort of doggy position between his legs. 

“shit, that’s fuckin’ hot.” he breathes out, looking over at your ass in those lacy black panties. the ones that had been consuming his mind the entire night.

you mumble around his dick again which just pushes him further to the edge. his eyes shutting tight as he tries to hold off his orgasm in order to enjoy the feeling of your mouth on him longer. 

“you're gonna make me cum.” he moans, his voice breathy and rough. you feel your stomach bubble at his words, your brain going back to the fact that that other girl hadn't, and here you were, about to push him over the edge despite the fact you'd never given a blowjob before.

you suck harder, if that were possible, motivated to make him come. you wanted to make him feel good, better than any other girl ever had or could.

it consumed your mind like a plague. you hated how much you had begun to care, but right now you were ignoring that. focusing on chris's dick instead.

“oh fuck -” he whines, his hips thrusting up ever so slightly, making you gag. you pull off reluctantly to avoid throwing up as he removes his hand from your hair, your eyes now watering. 

“jesus christ.” he breathes. you finally get a look at him, and he looks hot – completely fucked out. “i'm so close.” he mumbles out shamelessly, his usual casual demeanour completely gone.

“sorry.” you mumble, swiping your thumb across your bottom lip to remove the excess saliva. 

“no no, you're good.” he says, his voice horse and desperate. you take his dick in your hand, jerking him off as you catch your breath for a second. “i can cum like this.” he mumbles, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly as he leans back.

you shake your head. “you can cum in my mouth y’know.” you tell him, not thinking twice about the offer.

his eyes widen a little. it's not like he'd never come down a girl's throat before, but he hadn't expected you to be so willing to do so.

“you sure?” he whispers. you don't respond, simply taking him into your mouth again which causes his mouth to fall open, his head tilting back slightly. 

it only takes a few more minutes before he's rutting his hips upwards ever so slightly, his breaths coming out rugged. 

“gonna cum.” he mumbles, letting you know. you continue the same rhythmic movements, wishing you could see him coming apart right now.

then he lets out a strangled moan as you feel the warm salty liquid spurt into your mouth. you wince your eyes a little at the taste, sucking it out of him until there's no more. then you swallow, pulling off him, immediately looking around the room for some water. 

“holy fuck.” he breathes, falling back on the bed as his limp dick rests on his abdomen. 

you hop off the bed, taking a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table. 

“i don't even know whatta say.” he sighs, brushing his hair off his forehead. you swallow the water as you look over at him laid on the bed. “was it good?” you ask.

he scoffs. “shut the fuck up.” he huffs, eventually tucking his dick back into his boxers before sitting up. he picks the joint off the ledge, lighting it as he takes a toke. 

you crawl back onto the bed, crossing your legs under, holding your fingers out for him to pass the zoot.

“youre somethin’ else - fuckin’ hell.” he says, still in an orgasmic bliss. he hands you the joint before gently grabbing the side of your head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

you let out a small chuckle at his touchiness and affection. “i should make you jealous more often.” he murmurs, his cocky attitude returning promptly. 

you roll your eyes before, playfully smacking his arm, giving him a stern look. “why would you do that when you know what i can do?”

he lets out a soft chuckle at your comment, smirking to himself in pride of your skills. “good point.” he agrees, looking you up and down as if he's still trying to process what just happened.

it's like something had switched between the both of you, new territories of vulnerability seeping through. you had done more than you told him you would, and to be truthfully honest, he cared about you more than he'd like to admit. the both of you acting like you were fucking dating.

©sturnsrecord

notes . finally posted the next part, hope everyone from my previous account manages to find this. enjoy xx

tag list . @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss

[certified-sleep-deprived]

hi! I was wondering if you could do an Agatha harkness x reader comfort fic for self harm? it's totally okay if not!! 🫶🫶

Hiya!! I wouldn't mind at all! As someone who used to struggle with SH, it was kind of nice to write a hurt/comfort for it. If you guys need someone to talk to, my dms are open :')

I have been very slow with this because of tech week, performances for a play, and then getting sick, sorry!! I'm getting to all my requests I promise yall. This one was a bit shorter than I intended but I still enjoyed writing it

°Agatha with a s/o who sh's°

Warnings/notes: mentions and descriptions of self harm, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, soft Agatha for the win

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. You, there on the floor of the bathroom, were mid-way cutting your wrist with a knife as you stared at her with wide eyes. Your arm was covered in dripping blood as it started pooling on the floor. Tears spilled out of your eyes as she kneeled down beside you on the rough, tiled floor.

Her hand gently placed itself over yours that held the knife, and she softly pried it from your blood soaked fingers. You let her do so, as you know you couldn't fight her.

The knife was placed in the sink, and she took your injured arm in both her hands, not seeming to care about being covered in your blood.

"Agatha-"

"Why...? Why would you..." She cuts you off.

She is at a loss for words as she chokes on a sob, tears of her own spilling down her face. Guilt hits you like a freight train, and you hang your head in shame, and you try to take your arm away from her but she doesn't relent. She grabs your hips and uses them to pull you into her lap so she can have an easier time cleaning up your wounds.

The next ten or so minutes as she cleaned the cuts was full of winces and gasps of pain as wet paper towels and peroxide dragged and seeped into your cuts; it felt like acid was burning at you when the peroxide was used to clean any dirt. As soon as she was done cleaning your cuts, she made sure to press gentle kisses to every single one of them, like a dog would to its own wounds. She wraps your arm in moisturizing medicine and gauze to prevent it from opening or drying out overnight.

As you attempt to get up, she doesn't let you, but instead she picks you up and brings you to the bed you two share. She places you in a sitting position, and you can't meet her gaze the whole time. Noticing this, her voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Doll, look at me, please?"

She tilts your chin up, and she sees the redness of your face and the glassy look of your eyes that mirrored her own. All that is in your gaze is guilt and pain, and her heart aches at the sight. You try your best to avoid her gaze, but it's impossible with how close she is holding your face to hers. A thumb gently rubs your cheek, and instinctively you lean into her hand with fresh tears flowing out of your eyes. The same thumb wipes some of them away with tenderness.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but know I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

You nod at her words, and you take a deep breath before speaking to ground yourself.

"Its just... shit has been so stressful lately with my job making me stay later and raising my workload, all the deadlines, and then seeing someone from years ago who I had a falling out with today didn't help."

She looked you in the eye the whole time you were speaking, tentatively listening.

"I haven't cut in so long, but I relapsed just like that" you say with a snap of your fingers.

"How could I let myself slip". You weep for your relapse.

Her mouth opens as if she was going to say something, but no words come out. Not like they could as you spoke again before she could get the chance.

"I'd understand if you want to leave or anything. I won't judge or blame you."

~~~~~~

...what?

Her expression changed from that of a gentle one, to very confused as her nose scrunched up. Before you could get on a rambling train, she pulls your face to hers for a gentle kiss. It didn't last long before she pulled away and made you look her in the eye.

"Now why would I do that? You think I would really leave you, especially in a time where you need me?"

She continues holding your face in her hands, rubbing your cheekbones with her thumbs in a gentle caress.

Your gently pushed down on your back, and she lays on her side, facing you. A hand places itself on your bandaged arm and lightly strokes the length of it.

"I'm here for the long haul, no matter what happens. Im going to be here for you in your highs and your lows, darling. I won't leave because of you... harming yourself like this."

Your heart swells at her words, and you can't help the guilt train that hits you in the face, because she's staying with you even with your flaws. Agatha seems to have noticed the shift in your already guilty expression, as she cups the underside of your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"Dont let anything eat away at you. Everyone had their was of... destressing, I guess you can put it. It isn't a way I endorse, but I can help you find a better way. That's why I'm here."

She looks at you with glassy eyes, brushing some hair out of your face tenderly. Your gaze flicks down to her lips and back up. She does the same and smiles, catching your gaze again as her lips find their way to yours. Her usual rough nature is pushed aside in this moment, a soft side reserved only for you as she tries to ease your pain.

"Let me be your shoulder to cry on. Don't do this when you have a bad day, come to me. I feel like such an awful girlfriend for not even noticing how you were feeling. I've been so wrapped up in mentoring Billy lately that I haven't even spared any of my time for you..."

She traces her fingers along the underside of your jaw as she talks. You grab her hand and you trail kisses from her finger tips up her arm before speaking again.

"Don't feel awful. I know how much he needs your help. The boy is just finding out who and what he is, so I understand. I'm just used to hiding my feelings and masking them, so that's likely why you didn't pick up on anything initially."

You look eachother in the eyes before embracing again, occasional sniffles and sobs escape you two before you separate and Agatha gently pushes you to lay down on the bed.

"Let's get some sleep, bunny. It's been an emotional night for us, so let's rest."

All you can manage is a nod as sleep starts to creep up on you like a fox. Agatha slips into the bed beside you and pulls you close so she is spooning you. The last thing you hear before you fall into slumber is a soft 'goodnight' from behind you, and then a tender kiss on your head.

[sparkrls]

High School Sweethearts

MASTERLIST

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

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

Word Count: 13.6k

•••

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

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

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

And now she felt like her lungs were collapsing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Struggles is an understatement."

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

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

Louis sighed, clearly relieved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god, his eyes.

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

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

And of course he was exactly Addie's type.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she really didn't want to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What bus do you take?"

"The thirteen."

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

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

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thing were okay here.

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

"What about you? You new?"

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

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

The light turned green, and Addie started driving again.

"Thanks."

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

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

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

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

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

Harry smiled.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Mom."

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

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

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

Harry's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Addie lost the match.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You offering one?"

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

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

"How'd the match go?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was all she had ever needed all along.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then her phone rang.

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

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

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

"Why aren't you home yet?"

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

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

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

"You had a match today?"

"Yeah, I did."

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

"No, we didn't."

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

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

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

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

"I want you home at nine."

"Mom, it's seven-"

"Nine."

"Fine."

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

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

"It is."

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

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

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

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

She was fed up.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S not important."

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

"It's not like that!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Addie frowned. "Who? The blond guy?"

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

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

"You sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry scowled. "Yeah, right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch.

That one dug deep into her heart.

Because it was true.

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

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

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

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

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

Addie cried herself to sleep that night.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Something."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Louis glanced at Liam. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When?" Zayn asked.

"Who started it?" Liam prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Addie, he called you a bitch."

"He said everyone thought I was a bitch."

"Same difference-"

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

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

"How is it different?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No matter what."

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They'd won.

Addie had won.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Addie's lips parted. "Flowers."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm really sorry."

"Haz-"

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

Addie cut in, "Harry-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

Addie smiled. "Thanks, babe."

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

Liam caught her before she fell. "Idiot."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut it, Tomlinson."

No one won the match.

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's my whole world."

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[farenmaddox]

@wormieapple I don't want to reblog all your tags, but I do want to respond a little bit because you made some great points!

You kind of summarized it as "free will is ugly, has consequences, and is constantly in competition with the free will of others." I think that's true, but only up to the certain point of the original run of the show. I would tentatively say that I think this point has been eroding ever since season 6.

In the beginning, it was just about Sam and Dean having autonomy for their own bodies and souls and being allowed to make their own choices about who they can share those things with and/or give them away to. They spend a lot of seasons 4 and 5 finding out that a lot of their lives were "predestined" and they are left questioning how much of it was really up to them. But the story is about them fighting back against this idea, and Castiel comes in to provide this additional perspective that it's not just because they're the Winchesters and they're special, that this type of freedom should belong to anyone. At the end of season 5, they have thrown off the preselected narrative and saved the world. It did have consequences and it did hurt and not everybody survived, but the message is still that free will is a good thing and the world is better for it.

Everything from that point on has been very "free will's consequences are devastating, actually." They get so many people killed, and they have no victories that are not pyrrhic and directly leading to even worse problems. Every attempt they made to have a personality outside of their assigned role was brutally punished.

In my original post I was talking about Cas embodies this a lot, and how specifically every time he tries to grapple with or defend free will, it goes wrong. He wants so much for angels to have this, to make heaven a better place, but all it ever does is get them killed in droves. It literally never works even a little bit. Introducing free will to angels was unequivocally bad and this is never rectified or redeemed. The ending message is that angels can't handle free will and it's bad for them and for the world. But I'm also thinking about how they will never ever let Sam process his trauma meaningfully. Thinking about that scene in the apocalypse world (season 13, I think???) where they killed him and had Lucifer be the one to bring him back and hold him hostage to get to Jack. Sam is yet again helpless against Lucifer's wishes, as if nothing has changed in the last 10 years, directly contradicting what they wanted to say when they had him say "no" to Lucifer in season 11. When he wanted to use his trauma to display how resilient it had made him at the beginning of season 12, he wasn't allowed to have that either, they just drugged him and took what they wanted anyway. Sam is never allowed to be anything but a victim, EVER. All this before season 15 even happened.

Season 15 was where they should have drawn those threads back together and found a way to say, actually, you CAN escape these narrow definitions and things CAN change and your choices DO matter and the world IS a better place for having you and the way that you care in it. But they either didn't want to leave us with that message, or they fumbled the ball so badly that we're still talking about it on fandom ESPN these four years later. Like, I'm not arguing with what you were saying about season 15 being terrible and spitting in the face of the story they were trying to tell before. But my main point is that I think the warning signs were there much earlier than season 15 and they were undermining themselves well before then.

... is it just me, or was Supernatural's ultimate thesis statement on the character of Cas that angels cannot and never will be any good at independent thinking and all efforts at expressing free will shall have unexpected and terrible consequences? He thought he was digging a tunnel out and he was proud of himself but actually all he dug was his own grave. The message being that you actually cannot escape the role you are assigned no matter what?

This is the message of Cas, as a way of underscoring the arc of the actual main two characters, in which the thesis statement is that you cannot escape the trap of toxic masculinity and patriarchal hegemony, you will never deal with your trauma in a way that matters, and you will die and spend eternity caught in its endless cycle. The maze has no exit.

the son becomes the father and becomes absent. this happens to all four members of TFW 2.0 in one way or another. god is dead, long live god. long live broken promises.

[nineparlor69]

Oh, boy...

I made a Sonic creepypasta. Please, do not unfollow. I finally built the courage to do this, so bear with me for a bit. Okay? Okay.

Behold, Sonic Mortem.

Sonic Mortem, part one.

It was a pretty fucking boring night as usual. I was just browsing through some cheesy horror games on a site I was on, none of them really catching my eye. I don't know if it was how bad it looked, or if it was something else, but a certain .exe game managed to catch my eye. The title: Sonek EXE. I don't know what it was about this specific shit heap of a game, but it seemed more interesting than others. By the looks of the screenshots, it was probably another bloody jumpscare-fest. But what the hell. I was really bored and needed something to do. So, I decided to download it. After it finished installing, I opened the game and gave it a try. It of course had stolen sprites from the original Sonic.exe game, and the gameplay was no different. Well, until I got to the part where you were supposed to play as Knuckles. For some reason, I was still stuck with Tails. Maybe the dev was too lazy to put in the other characters. I brushed it off as simple slacking, and continued playing. As I kept trying to get Tails to run to the right, I realized that this had been going on for a while without even getting anywhere. He was just running, and running, and running. I took my finger off of the key, but Tails wasn't stopping. Maybe the key was stuck. I tried pressing it a few times to get it to work again, but it didn't fix anything. I watched as Tails ran before he finally came to the end of the level. Tails stopped moving entirely. All of a sudden, my disc drive opened. It had a disc in it, which was weird because I didn't put a disc in it. Maybe my little sister Abby was messing around in my room again? I thought that was the case until I got a good look at the disc. Sonic the Hedgehog 2. I didn't own that game. Not physically, at least. What the hell was a disc of it doing in my house? It was all scratched up, though, so it wasn't like I could play it. I decided to look back at my monitor to see if anything had changed, and I really regretted doing so. On my screen was Tails, face pressed up against the screen and breathing like he was running out of air in his lungs. He had this look in his eye… Like he was watching me, like he knew me. If it was a simple trick the developer of the game put in to scare a player like me, I would have just seen it as a petty scare and moved on. But I couldn't explain the disc it somehow put in my drive. I glanced at the disc of Sonic 2 in my hands, looking at the scratches. They looked like claw marks, similar to a wild animal. Like a fox… I looked back at the monitor after hearing a loud thud, and Tails was gone. Instead, I was greeted by the bloody blue bastard just leaning against one of the tree sprites. I decided to try pressing a few keys like the space bar or arrows, but they did nothing. All I heard were the in-game footsteps or jumping noise. Like there was something invisible. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I got the sinking feeling that someone, or something was watching me. I looked around my room, panicking as I felt like I couldn't recognize my surroundings. Vibrant colors and dim furniture blurred into one as I took in my familiar bedroom's layout for the last time. I looked back at the computer once more, seeing words in red on the screen. "I SEE YOU, ALEX. JOIN ME." And it all went to black. Now I wait. I wait for someone else to find me and set me free. Won't you come let me out, dear reader?

Sonic Mortem, Part two.

(Trigger Warning for gore!)

It was a pretty great day. Things were finally looking up for me. I got a sweet new house that had tons of room, and there was even a fully furnished gaming room.

I decided to unwind after all of the unpacking I did a few days prior by playing some video games from that old room, ready to play something really good. But, there wasn't much of anything. It was mostly some old retro games like Sonic or Metroid. Sure, they were good, but not quite what I was looking for.

I hopped on the old computer in the room, taking a look through all the old games on it. There were tons I really loved playing, and even a few others I've never played before.

I noticed a really odd game, a game called "Sonic Mortem". Probably an old STH2 ROM hack. I booted it up, met with a kick-ass title sequence. It didn't say who the devs were, though... The game started, and I realized that this was just another cheesy .exe game. But hey, maybe it wasn't going to be so bad.

Of course, I got through the classic Tails bit, getting that shithead fox killed and moving on to the real good stuff with Knuckles. But... Knuckles wasn't there. It was Tails. Again.

I kept playing, thinking that maybe the game would get better. I wasn't paying attention, and I soon realized that Tails was moving at break-neck speeds. I didn't see much from how fast Tails was going, but he seemed to have ran over and crushed something red. Oh, no. I went towards the right, shocked to see blood, bone, and brain splattered all across the floor. And there, laying in a big puddle of blood, was the headless corpse of Knuckles the Echidna. It looked so real, too...

A pop up appeared on screen, Tail's smirking mug plastered on it. I heard a voice. It wasn't demonic and low, though. It was synthetic and high. And what it said shook me.

"I'll be straightforward with you. I'm no god or spirit. I AM THE GAME. But I'm also the player. Do you know why, Tray? It's because I played YOU. And I'm going to keep toying with you for as long as you live. But of course you'd want to know why. Why I killed Knuckles. Why I'll never leave you be. Because it's FUN. And it was fun with that coward Alex, as well. I'll see you soon..."

the screen turned off, and the disc drive opened. Instead of a disc there, there was a newspaper. I picked it up, and immediately recognized it. It was the article about a boy about my age who went missing a while ago. Was this a threat?

I tried to go to bed, to forget what just happened, but it wouldn't let me sleep. It STILL won't let me sleep. I can hear something under the floorboards, scratching and scratching nonstop.

scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching

To be continued...

[rigaudon]

My favorite grainy instagram filter got axed and trying to find new ones that have the same crunchy look without adding makeup or changing my facial features is a struggle. :'(

[queencvbra]

I am. So so scared about that they're doing with Tory this season lol.

[duskdog]

The big defenses that I see from Jason Todd stans for this are these: 1. He didn't try to kill her by blowing up the school. I agree, actually -- I don't think he tried to kill her, I think he was sure she'd get clear (Mia herself suspects this and says as much)... but he still blew up a school for absolutely no good reason. 2. You guys are exaggerating the details. I don't believe we are, because it's a lot more nuanced than just "hero vs hero" -- if you're familiar with Mia's character, it should be obvious about why this attack was potentially more damaging to her than it might be to some other random hero. Regardless, the facts of what he did, without "exaggeration" or introspection into what any of this could have meant for Mia personally are bad enough to stand on their own merits: He kidnapped someone he has never even met before. It is a fact that he did this.

He took the time to research her origin -- which no reasonable person can deny includes some very sensitive topics such as sexual abuse, child trafficking, underage drug use, and HIV infection -- and then deliberately flaunted this information in her face. It is a fact that he did this. He attempted to convince her that her guardian wasn't like her and would never understand her. It is a fact that he did this. He fought her, including shooting at her, despite the fact that they didn't even know each other and she had never committed any wrong against him. It is a fact that he did this. He blew up her school, which not only disrupted her schooling, but the schooling of many other students, and caused a large amount of property damage. It is a fact that he did this. Mia was later shown to be troubled by this encounter, beyond anything she had previously shown for other "normal" fights. This is a fact that is expressed by Green Arrow, as well as shown on-panel where she lies alone and thoughtful, cuddling a soft toy. My point being, nobody has to "exaggerate" in order for any reasonable person to conclude that Jason was an unprovoked aggressor here, and that what he did was bad. "Oh he did that stuff, but it wasn't as bad as you say it was" isn't the winning argument that people seem to think it is. What, exactly, is the threshold for "bad enough" for a character to be held responsible for what they do? If you want to argue that Jason has changed since then? Sure, that's fair. But that has absolutely zero bearing on the things he did when he was like this. Taking responsibility for this attack would go a long way towards showing character growth, but we're unlikely to ever see that. Let your fave own his flaws and mistakes.

i really can’t get over the fact that at one point jason blew up a school because a teenage girl said no to being his partner

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[starry-bi-sky]

FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[kalims]

he's a ten but he...

premise. sometimes certain bad habits of theirs make their overall rating just a tad bit lower—besides the fact that they keep doing it.

characters. dorm leaders

content. gender neutral reader

malleus (doesn't have a sense of space)

"look beastie, that flower is a native of ours,"

"I agree mal, but I didn't think you taking up the entirety of my seat will make me see it better,"

he blinks, then shrugs.

like i said, has NO sense of space.

if an average person would make an excuse to constantly be in physical contact with who they admire, then malleus is the complete opposite. well, not entirely but he doesn't even bother to construct an explanation as to why he's literally sat over your seat when you coincidentally get put in a table together.

if you start questioning him about it the most you'll get in a very outright 'because he wanted to.' it's not even one of those sarcastic replies he's 100% serious!

cause he believes there's no use in lying about things to be honest.. to further emphasize that, if he ever acts like he does hold fondness for you that surpasses the platonic meter but doesn't mention it he probably hasn't realized yet.

if he did he'd already walk over and bluntly tell you about it.

(I wish I could be that unbothered.)

lilia thinks it's the cutest thing though. you swear you see flashes of light for a split second from the ceiling but when you look up there's only a suspicious swinging chandelier.

^ totally has his own album full of pictures.

if malleus ever discovers it he won't even be disturbed, probably would ask for a copy 💯

since human lives, and their bodies are so fragile he'd taken it upon himself to protect you from harm. even if it means trailing behind you everywhere way too close for comfort, or standing a bees wing away.

while he is respectful most of the time, he's encouraged if you don't comment. if anything, he seems pleased you dont seem to be bothered! (and it'll get harder to tell him to stop when he's so happy the more you let it happen..)

"child of man, have you slept?"

*starts leaning his body forward, to squint at your eyes.* practically right in front of your face.

"WTF."

not even a warning or anything! but atleast he's concerned?

idia (won't even show up for anything and insists a 'virtual' date is better.')

user: where tf r u??

ghoul666: WDYM? at the dorm?

user: IVE BEEN WAITING HERE FOR 20 MINUTES

unintentionally stood you up 💀

you literally have to tell him that you're waiting for him to arrive at the specified area you discussed where your date would take place but would end up vastly irritated when he questions if you guys even did.

ghoul666: we do??

user: I'm taking my minecraft bed away from urs.

ghoul666: NO PLS

ghoul666: HELLO????

next time you log in minecraft it's probably because he begged you to play, you WILL end up seeing some kind of structure that probably took days to make. that's not even the entire thing cause the inside is entirely decorated to your taste.

in short: he constructed some kind of venue for a wedding.. even changed his skin to wear a tuxedo 😭

though he has sparked your pettiness, hence the ignoring him period. even you have got to admit that it's freaking adorable...

big sign, emphasis on please: Im sorry pls put ur minecraft bed back I can't sleep w/o u and I have to wait entire days for it to turn into morning :(

with what he's built you're sure it's 65% true.

if you do end up forgiving him, few weeks later attempting to schedule another date will only end up in naught.

ghoul666: can we not go there

user: 😐

user: you are testing my patience love

ghoul666: 😓 (he is screeching about the term of endearment part btw KABSJAJSAJA ortho would enter his room very concerned.)

ghoul666: how abt

ghoul666: mimic together? call

user: sighs

user: I'm only agreeing cause I want to spend time with you

queue more screeching from his end that you're completely oblivious to.

the only screeching you're gonna hear though is when you guys do get into call as you play, and it's mainly out of terror when his soul gets sent to the void ascending when the entity pops out of a corner and starts chasing him.

"I GOT THIS. ILL CARRY U THIS IS FINE" *screams again* but really wants to impress you so he pushes through.

unsurprisingly does carry you.

asks to match avatars right after (idia love languange)

vil (frets over you way too much.)

"vil, did you see the chocolate in the freezer?"

"oh, that? I noticed that you've already gone through the ideal number of bars this week so I took it upon myself to make sure you don't go sick on me,"

"I love you but please give it back—"

"I love you too, and no."

disclaimer: he does this for your own good 😜 (average mom excuse.)

looks out for you more than he does for his own dorm residents. everyone is wondering where he ran off to after class, especially since he's the one that scheduled the pomefiore meeting every fridays!

and to think he was the one getting irritated over the more newer first years for being late..

*shows up literally half an hour in*

why you ask? you simply shouldn't have texted him about abandoning your daily walk together through the gardens in favor of catching sleep since you called in sick (you're suspicious if crewel really did go in to check for proof, and not concern.)

vil's really feeling the absolute regret of not checking his phone during classes.. well, he only saw the message which was coincidentally sent like somehow ONE minute after the lecture started and he's only seeing it 59 minutes later.

oh you poor thing!! though the lunch break is short, he has about 5 minutes for a trip to the mirror chamber..

you'd think the 'seen' icon below your message was a weird omen for something you're not sure but it must be doom cause vil is right at the front porch of your crappy dorm. at his own expense?! looking more disheveled than you've seen him before.

if a few stray hairs was disheveled at all. more importantly, he still looked drop dead gorgeous!

you probably looked quite terrible with the blanket draped around your shoulders looking like you just crawled out of your grave, because he looked absolutely mortified at your state.

"oh great sevens.." he looked like he was faint, huffing and fanning himself with his hand. "look at you, why didn't you tell me sooner, darling?"

you blink, swallowing to make your throat less dry but your voice still comes out raspy. "I did, like an hour ago—" without your invitation whatsoever, he steps in. promptly shutting the door behind him (which surprisingly still stands sturdy.)

vil takes a hold of your shoulders before reaching his hands upwards to tilt your face around. "you should have sent earlier," he says. you keep in the comment that you were sleeping during it, and you told him about it during second period so.. "your face is so pale."

you sigh.

"yeah, I just saw. I know, I look hideous right now."

vil frowns at you, stopping to angle your face at him. "don't ever say that. I always find you beautiful even if you are.." he glances at you from face to toe, then back up. "sickly."

"... I feel offended."

"hmph, shush now. let me draw you a bath then I know something that will boost your system."

after much coaxing in his end, you reluctantly take a warm bath in the hopefully hygienic bathroom. true to his word, vil did... concoct something. though it looked pretty the random steam that flew from it was really suspicious.

the residents don't dare to question, except rook of course. who already knew what transpired! :)

epel: 😃 (atleast vil wasn't around.)

"roi du poison~ tell me, tell me! is the trickster well? have you cured them with your love?"

"rook, you have 5 seconds to get out of my face."

rook giggles away.

kalim (thinks money will buy anything, including your forgiveness.)

"here!" there's a suspiciously bright smile on his face as he hands you.. some keys?

you deadpan, jingling it in your hands. it weighs heavy than the average, probably because of the fact that it's literally made of gold. "... kalim what is this?" you emit a sigh, from suspicion and concern.

"a gift!"

"wait why does it say lot 111--"

as you can already, that was an actual, literal house. which you imagine would probably be a lots more grand, and new compared to your old baby ramshackle.

but you do love it despite it's love for falling apart at the most inconvenient of times..

fighting with kalim was rare but it was hard to even argue with him because the notion of disagreements are so bizarre to him that he unintentionally doesn't treat you seriously with your concerns, accidentally downplaying them aaaand now you're upset.

after the ranting to jamil about how you must be busy with a lot, since you haven't even talked to him in the past 2 days. all it took was a side glance to his friend in denial and jamil immediately knew.

"what do you mean they're mad!? D:"

"just.. go apologize, I don't want to get caught up in this."

if his definition of an apology is buying you an entire house...

( ^ it is btw.)

kalim really doesn't mean any harm. he just really wants to sate whatever anger you held for him <- maybe he's overthinking it but it's kalim so he's 99% sure it's his fault! even though it hasn't even been confirmed from your end he'd probably accept it whole heartedly.

he wanted you to talk to him again so badly that he wouldn’t mind showering you with houses... since your living situation doesn't live up to your kindness (sorry ramshackle love u xx)

you know what. he wouldn't even notice he's the reason you're upset at first even though he's been asking around on who put you in that mood. despite himself being the perpetrator but he didn't really know that did he?

the only reason he does is because he assumed you were just because you avoided him like some sort of.. cockroach! (he dislikes those.) and he couldn't take it anymore.

was probably 1 sec away from barging into your dorm which wouldn't take a lot of effort since one ram to the door would probably break it.

bless jamil for jailing all the carpets so kalim doesn't find them.

even if said carpets fling him off when he's riding them.

"kalim, why would you buy a literal house... and you also got a rare address paid--"

"for them! ;D"

"... you do know they'd be more offended by the fact that you'd try to replace that.., ahem. dorm, right?"

"oh... should I buy them a vehicle then?"

you only promise to forgive him once he takes back the keys, and the house entirely...

(grim begged you to keep it, 'house for him apparently.')

azul (keeps trying to offer you discounts thinking it's a good excuse to have you over.)

"I assure you. you'll find no deal better than this."

"I'm not even that hungry for sea food, actually I'm craving some--"

"you're in luck then! ahem, it's 26% off due to a special event for today."

pro tip: keep insisting to eat at other places cause he's gonna keep increasing the discount by 2% until you eventually relent. once, you made him go to the point of 75% off, it's almost hilarious if not for the fact it only worked once.

now he won't go last 50!

ahem. if you look closely you can almost spot tiny cracks accumulating with each denial you respond with, and each increase of his discount. he's grown to be wary about the bullshit 'lucky' promos you just happen to stumble on.

last time you did he practically lost a week's worth of the presumed income he's predicted cause you actually went around and told your first year friends about it... who.. in turn told some, other friends of theirs about it and you could guess.

love must hurt.. and unfortunately it's his wallet wailing.

but azul is not so easily swayed by this! for you have swayed him first! *wink wonk*

but azul has another trick up his sleeve... keeping on roping jade and floyd into it; whom are far too enthusiastic cause finally— something fun to do! someone to bother! not only have you got the most stubborn octopus having frequent suspicious 'deals' but here are his equally suspicious lackeys.

who keeps.. talking about fried octopus..

yeah, you're not sure if preaching about azul’s species is the job they were assigned.

they're fairly easy to point in the right direction anyways. the tweels have always associated you with the word 'fun' so just a little, friendly suggestion from and they were off to their merry way. mortifying every single person you come across with their sudden attachment.

one of their tricks? following you around. and just somehow, every single place you enter is just mysteriously full even though you peered inside and there was like 7 tables empty. what are they hosting? ghosts? spirits?

...

they do look like they've seen some though..

jade rn: "a shame indeed, you must be hungry. why don't we escort you back to monstro lounge?" :)

long story short you can't even reply cause the sleek eel is already guiding you around by the use of his hands on your shoulders. just to make sure you don't stray away from the destination, he says.

"didn't you say that yesterday's promo was like, a one day thing?" you quirk a brow, and you almost fool yourself into thinking he flinched.

azul clears his throat. "well—today is.. the month before you've graced octavinelle with your assistance—"

he praises himself for his quick thinking.

COME ON! it doesn't matter if you're sick of eating stir fried shrimp, or the butter one, or every single dish they serve that includes shrimp! (also do not mention that you ate somewhere else before you just decide to visit his dorm because that establishment just mysteriously got filed a non-legal business report.)

then you've got floyd chasing you around with a fork. which is more terrifying because he's holding it in a notion that would seem like he'd just stab down at you when he catches up with your little goose chase.

it's just.. you're not sure if your stomach could take another bite of the poor food he stabbed into, and is now chasing you around with.

you screech. "JADE PLEASE."

the man shrugs. "it's a free taste."

"AZUL."

"... only on a condition of course."

frankly. it took all the balls he had to actually sputter out the most simplest sentence ever, cause during the time he rehearsed that in front of his mirror it just plagued him with embarrassment but he's getting desperate.

'I'd like to take you out to dinner, somewhere else of course.'

actually, maybe obliterating any possible craving for the food of his lounge just might've been part of his plans to ask you out..?

leona (prevents you from actually being productive via dragging you down to 'nap' every. single. time.)

"I will literally fail if you don't let go of me right now."

"hmph. so what? it's not like failing a grade killed anyone."

"leona just because you've lived through a lot of fails doesn't mean I have to, we're not all rich enough to not finish school."

to which he'd retaliate that all you'd need is to marry him and you'd be set for life.

there is no winning an argument with leona when it comes to his naps. if he states that you're to be next to him as he sleeps, its final. no buts, no retaliations, cause apparently they're all invalid according to him even if you drag him to court.

rhetorically of course, that if its a comical court scene his only statements are; 'well you're wrong', 'who cares', and 'i dont care'. one way or another he's still gonna win you over and now you're fit snugly in his arms, lamenting.

and if crowley chastises you for not doing the errands (via leona's common interference.) the only thing you need to honestly do is to complain to leona about it and suddenly crowley has the kindness to forgive you for your 'laziness' then says something about enjoying your time together?

leona's work no doubt.

you suppose he does has its perks. even if most of it isn't exactly ideal.

if you're being smart then you should give him an ultimatum or something, or bribe him. but... that really has no guarantee to work either cause you're ending up defeated, or just defeated and flustered since he's somehow unconsciously flirty.

at the end of the day you can't really hate him cause the following day you find out he sent an already sleep deprived ruggie to do your work. 'so you can shut your fussing up and let me enjoy you.' he says, and you quote.

it goes something like;

"if i finish my work i'll stick by you all day."

a stready flow of confidence keeps your voice firm as you glower down at the blank-faced leona sat on the grass. he merely tilts his head, raising a brow at you and seemingly pondering from the way his eyes fly to the sky.

you'd think that maybe your plan actually worked but he merely grunts and flops backwards, holding the back of his head with his palms as he laid. and! he ignores you.

...this little greedy man... "why should i care whether or not you finish your work?" he huffs, like the evil, arrogant spawn he is but you can't really defend yourself cause said evil spawn bewitched you so much that you actually still like him.

"because you care about me?"

"...fine," he scowls, releasing a breath you'd mistake for irritation. "then, do you really think i need you to finish your work when i can just keep you right here?"

you sulk. "i'll do anything you want?"

he deadpans as if you said something stupid. "i don't need you to anything else but sit still and be pretty."

...

...

see what i mean about him eventually winning you over? yeah.

next morning there's a rebellion in savanaclaw about overworked residents and ruggie is the head of them.

"he said that he doesn't need you today." <- ruggie, steering you away.

"really?" <- you, confused

riddle (overthinks TOO HARD.)

“I'm just a little busy.”

“I understand,” riddle says.

“I'm just a little busy.” he understands.

“a little busy.” its just… a small thought…

“I'm just busy.” his mind is a hazard at this point. 

for someone as supposedly maintained as riddle—you'd think his mind is as composed as it is organized. like the pens you'd perfectly align in correlation to order of colors, or the neat pile of clothing folded neatly, tucked in some corner in your closet that is farther in since it's used less.

that's just how he is, or at least seems to be. a bundle of organized thoughts, every thought connected to another. a mind too clean to be going on haywire (when he isn't in a particular mood, that is.)

you're just busy. he thinks. you said it yourself, with that agonizingly nice smile that must be sprinkled with some kind of spell from the way it just eradicated all the protests in his throat upon sight. he isn't one to question it, he wants to help but not if you don't ask.

he can only stare with resigned acceptance at your insomnia induced eyes.

but when the curtain of darkness befalls night raven college, even in the comfort of heartslabyul is he still thinking about that thought–and he can’t help but wonder; why exactly are you busy? its not that he’s suddenly hyper aware of your lack of presence since you’ve been attached to the hip the previous week and now you’re just.

…busy…

riddle likes to think of himself as a level-headed, private person. like the boy he raised himself to be and therefore proud of. but its way past 10AM. which is usually the time he sleeps, and let me tell you that he’s never once broke the cycle for years. yet here he is, a frown of frustration present on his face as he wills his mind to sleep.

somehow closing his eyes felt forced, he immediately snapped them open once his mind decides to conjure an image of you even in the darkness his lids offers.

“THIS IS ABSURD.”

and the yell promptly woke up the entire dorm from the ferocity of his scream. (and of course gave them the flashback of their year.)

that night was one of the worst he’s ever had because he woke up with red rimmed eyes and a pounding headache that ensured his bad mood the rest of the day.

everyone noted to steer clear.

and he unknowingly steered clear of yours since you were ‘busy.’

“why are you sulking?” a voice queried, spoken as though they were eating something as they asked. a reprimand rises in his throat, but it all just dies down once his sharp eyes settle on you, slipping into the seat in front of him then raising a brow and the traces of irritation practically evaporates from his eyes.

he feels the need to cough–so he does. “i’m– i’m not.” he clears his throat, avoiding your eyes but still sneaking in glances, something he notes is that you’re still looking everytime he does. (and boring an unimpressed face because he knows you don’t believe him at all.)

guilt rises in his mind, because he feels a slither of annoyance and its the presence of pettiness that bothers him. riddle knows you’re not at fault, just his mind at convincing that you just somehow decided in the span of a day that you might not like him anymore–so he can’t help the bite. 

“why are you here?” a glance not intended to look mean.

“i thought you were busy.” he adds.

your brows raise, he spots your teeth holding your lips back from showing your grin and he feels warm. “what?” he hisses defensively, despite you not even having replied to him yet.

he leans backwards, straightening up in his seat when your chin leans forward, resting on your intertwined fingers. you flash him a smile. 

“mr. rosehearts, are you perhaps… sulking because i’m busy?”

“no!”

silence.

“no.” he repeats, weaker.

“well,” you continue, beaming. “i heard from ace that you were awake the entire night, and that you kept him awake too. are you alright?” 

he sputters. “it wasn’t because of you!”

you snort. “i didn’t even say anything about me.”

so you incline to following riddle around, poking fun at him and still trailing after the seemingly enraged red head because despite his angry protests, demanding you to go away because you’re annoying he keeps glancing back to see if you’ll follow,

so cute…….

[lawofangie]

some things i've manifested

these are some basic stories, but i have some "crazy" ones i might share if you guys want lol

note: before manifesting i used to have a pretty "normal" life. i was conventionally attractive, middle classs, etc. i didn't really "need" anything but a social life and better grades. regardless of that, i just manifested whatever i wanted and didn't limit myself. i also added a few little stories behind them.

appearance change:

changed my hair texture to curly

grew from 5'2 to 5'6

clear, even skin and skin tone (tbh i already had a really good skincare routine, my skin was super clear bc of that BUT my face used to be like 10 shades darker than the rest of my body and i had CRAZY backne and strawberry legs)

losing 30 pounds (i used to be 72kg, now i'm 58kg)

changed my shoe size (i used to be size 9 now i'm size 7)

changed my hand size (for reference, my hands used to be a little longer than my phone, i had a "pro max" sized phone.)

social life:

having good friends in my state (im from up north and was completely lonely in the state i live in now)

popularity (i used to be pretty irrelevant but now everybody likes me and wants to be around me)

getting my sp's (i manifested them from scratch and took inspired action to meet them)

having people crush on me more overtly/ getting approached more (this is kind of a weird one, before my appearance change i was pretty attractive like maybe a 7/10, but i got tired of people just ogling me and not approaching me. i only had the unattractive and overconfident guys approaching me, all the attractive ones just stared lol)

just being likable lol (people used to feel threatened by me or feel like i was standoffish for some reason. idrk tbh but it was VERY annoying. i literally used to get accused of "acting like i own the place" for being quiet and just existing 💀. i didn't really care what they thought, but i hated when they complained about it and tried to make it my problem.)

school:

higher gpa (i used to have a 3.0 but i manifested a 3.8, which is a weighted 4.0)

high grades (i used to fail many tests/exams and have a mix of a, b, and c's. now they're all a's)

dream college acceptance

teachers liking me (they actually used to hate my guts it was so annoying 😭)

school crushes liking me back (tbh they probably thought i was already attractive but they never spoke to me or seemed like they wanted to get to know me)

leaving early (my school day ends at like 12 now)

lifestyle:

living closer to the city

having my dream routine (i have my dream skincare products, haircare products, diet, and health routines.)

having a high self concept (tbh i technically always did, i knew what i wanted and deserved. i just felt more like i was being injusticed. so i got rid of the "unwilling victim" mentality. i also used to ruminate on irrelevant things, like mistakes i made, what people thought of me, etc.)

very high confidence (in my looks, abilities, judgement, etc.)

money for my parents and myself

having a busy, productive life (i used to hate school because my grades weren't contributing to anything i wanted to do in life, so i wanted a productive life outside of that.)

always getting my way

getting all sorts of things for free

and more!

i'd say this all took me around 2-3 months, not because manifesting takes time, but because i assumed a lot of things would take time. i also had periods of doubt in myself and tried to handle things in the 3d on my own for some time.. which obviously didn't work. still, all i did was assume and accept these things as true and they happened overnight, in a day, or within that week. the longest anything's taken me is like 7 days, and that was because i kept wavering in my mind. manifestation is truly instant.

but anyways, i hope this is motivational and helpful. i do have some pretty "ridiculous" stories like some revenge stories, "crazy" stories regarding sp's, some not very appropriate stories, really good things happening to me, and others.

thanks for reading! i hope this helps. 🩶

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:25 P.M 」

tw: pregnancy. overall, just some domestic dad-to-be gojo trying to show how much he loves you even with how your body changes and all <3 based on a request!

a part of gojo's love entries

don’t think that satoru hasn’t noticed how you linger in front of the mirror these days, touching your body all over—particularly your baby bump. seeing your face twist into a sad frown dampens his spirits too.

on the other hand, you understand that it’s a natural process, but you have never gained this much weight before, and despite already having your husband reassure you before, you still feel somewhat meh about yourself.

“how’s my favorite girl and little rascal doing today?” he flopped down on the bed beside you as soon as he returned from school, caressing your belly. “ready to come out yet?”

you throw him an unamused look. “no, satoru. and don’t make it sound so effortless. i’m the one pushing him out.”

“ahh, but i can’t wait though~”

his palpable excitement actually made you smile as you placed your hand over his. but then your smile fell a bit and he was quick to notice it.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked then. “talk to me, hmm?”

“no… it’s nothing.” you looked away, a bit ashamed. if satoru says he’s not bothered by your figure, you really shouldn’t be thinking about this any longer. you didn't want to make him worry… but it really wasn't easy to let it go.

“hmm, my baby mama can’t be sad,” your husband pouted, and suddenly he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “she’s the cutest when she smiles.”

you looked up to him, feeling the security in his arms and yet still a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “am i just cute… to you?”

you wanted to be beautiful too. like how he used to sing you praises during your school days.

satoru grinned. and it’s the kind of toothy grin that makes your heart soar.

“no. you’re also pretty.” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “and you’re smart, kind, nags a lot, gets pouty easily… and you're sweet like a dango, makes me want to gobble you up.”

“so now i’m a dango?” you nestled your head against his broad chest, feeling your face start to heat up, and a smile beginning to curve your lips. stupid satoru. he said all of them so easily it was making you giddy and felt silly for doubting him at all.

“just because our baby is going to be a mochi. and look, you’re so close to carrying him to full-term,” he rubbed your swollen tummy again, this time with a more sincere smile. “i love you the most for it.”

your eyes took a shine, processing his words, and you could’ve sworn that right now, nothing could’ve shaken your feelings for your silly husband.

suddenly your baby kicked you hard as if to reprimand you too for your insecurities, and you winced.

“hurts?” satoru questioned, slightly concerned when you nodded. “wait i’ll tell him off.”

he cleared his throat and began making circular motions on your abdomen, as if to summon him.

“yo, brat. you can’t kick your mama like that too often these days. you’re accumulating karma and she counts it. when you come out, she’ll forbid you from eating our favorite mochis and—”

“satoru!!”

and then the two of you just burst into giggles, and once again, you utterly and thoroughly fell in love with him. for always making you feel safe... and loved.

“you know, satoru...” this time it was you who hugged him, breathing in his scent for comfort. now you were totally worry-free, the softest of smile on your face. “i’m really grateful that... we found each other.”

at your heartfelt confession, satoru felt his chest tighten with warmth and his cheeks flush. he is so blushing and he tries covering it with a chuckle. and the words lingering at the tip of his tongue were—

“heh, aren’t you glad you married me?”

yeah... i’m so glad that it’s you too.