#i read somewhere that the best way to face your fears is to prepare for it

[danothan]

if all driving was just driving on the highway, then i would be a driver. but alas. there are intersections to be dealt with.

[writeroutoftime]

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind. 

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind. 

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble. 

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately." 

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master. 

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn. 

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?" 

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure. 

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin. 

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend. 

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump. 

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.  

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before." 

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare. 

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group. 

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love." 

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel." 

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in. 

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"  

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days. 

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room. 

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss." 

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death. 

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games. 

"What?" 

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence. 

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you." 

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation. 

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us." 

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him? 

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love." 

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment. 

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting." 

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?" 

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out." 

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back. 

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected. 

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside." 

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded. 

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life. 

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes. 

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came. 

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss." 

Again, no response. 

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses. 

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up. 

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room. 

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand. 

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel. 

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled. 

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you." 

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe. 

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research." 

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words. 

"Y-you heard all that?" 

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes. 

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate." 

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. 

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family. 

"It worked!" 

"You're awake." 

"The two of you are mates?!" 

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after. 

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

[ryujinbrat]

#12 quiet love

the stream (written chapter)

STREAM IS ONLINE•

"hey guys, it's yunjin. welcome or welcome back to my stream! today, i'm joined by hanni, y/n, and our two very special guests, winter and ningning!" yunjin said, facing the stream.

"hi guys!" winter said excitedly.

"what's up" hanni muttered.

"hiii twitch" ninging said as she waved like a kid seeing their best friend.

y/n only waved to the camera shyly, still feeling a bit down about the hate.

"so guys, today we'll be playing minecraft and answering some questions from everyone in the chat. be sure to leave us some good questions in the chat!" yunjin said, loading up the game.

"oh, i have one already," hanni perked up. "@somisgf asked, 'what's it like to be a streamer versus being a youtuber?'"

"ohh that's a good one," winter said, punching a tree in the pixelated game.

"also your username is so real," ningning fake swooned in her seat causing hanni to roll her eyes.

"no way you have a crush on somi."

"doesn't everyone?" the chinese girl chuckled as the rest of the girls shook their heads no. "well aren't you guys friends with her? you can put in a good word for me."

y/n nodded her head in thought, "will do. you guys would make a cute couple."

"hello?? nobody's answered the question," yunjin said adjusting her headset and letting out a playfully annoyed sigh.

"right right umm being a youtuber takes a lot longer when you have to film and edit to produce multiple videos a week, while streamers can easily just start up a stream and play a game," winter began.

"do you seriously think that being a youtuber is harder than streaming?" yunjin asked with disgust on her face.

"well duh," ningning and winter said in unison.

"i propose a challenge," y/n spoke up.

"go on."

"how about we all switch jobs for a week? all of the streamers will make youtube videos and all of the youtubers will stream. and at the end whichever group gains the most followers wins," she finished.

"and what do we win?" hanni questioned whats excited to be number one.

"bragging rights and the loser does whatever the winner says."

"deal," the five girls agreed together as they did a virtual handshake.

"okay next question," said ningning, "this one is from @rinasworld and they asked 'when did you guys become friends?'"

"the 3 of us have been friends for a while," yujin says gesturing to hanni and ningning, " but this is the first time y/n is meeting winter and ningning and it's winter's first time meeting us!" she finished briefly, her main focus being building a house for her and hanni.

"but we'll all definitely hang out in person soon and do more streams!" said y/n, eager to hang out with ningning and winter for no particular reason.

"someone said 'are you guys not friends with rina anymore?'" winter read aloud, "that's such a stupid question why wouldn't we be friends anymore."

"jimin and y/n have no bad blood and even so we're allowed to be friends with whoever we want." ningning said, getting a bit upset with fan's assumptions.

"in fact, y/n actually has a bit of a crush on karina don't you y/n" hanni said, hitting y/n's character in the bloxy game.

"stop that, and no i don't," y/n scowled in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"yeah you do, remember when you called her pretty?"

"and all of those tweets on your priv," yunjin added, anxious to get in on exposing y/n.

"ohh what tweets i wanna see," ningning nearly jumped out of her seat with excitement.

y/n gave ningning a death glare.

"or not," ningning smirked in faux fear.

"okay yes, i did call her pretty but it wouldn't go anywhere. especially not after that twitter stuff that hanni caused" y/n said rubbing her neck shyly.

"stuff that i caused??? that's just false," hanni rolled her eyes once again, "i was simply being real."

"so you admit that you would want a relationship with rina to go somewhere?" winter questioned fully prepared to play match maker.

"well duh have you seen her? she's insanely pretty but-"

"but nothing," ningning cut y/n off, "we'll make it happen for you."

"mission girlfriends2 is a go," winter nodded.

"girlfriends2???," yunjin squinted her eyes giving a puzzled look.

"we don't talk about girlfriends1," ningning sighed obviously remembering something.

"no guys it's fine and plus i wouldn't want to bother her anymore than i already have," y/n muttered sheepishly.

"you wouldn't be trust us."

"yeah you guys should see jimin's priv tweets," winter chuckled.

"HER WHA-"

STREAM IS OFFLINE◦

masterlist next

taglist ⌗

@ehcyps @justme-idle @sewiouslyz @awkwardtoafault @jisooftme @boohirai @jeindall777 @yoontoonwhs @masuowo @bzeus28 @juhyunsthirdwife @kimsgayness @mightymyo @neuftaeng @rgxjsss @naviesweloveyou @baebeefyburrito @nasyu-kookies

[moxfirefly]

Pretty please do Donnie x Frem!Reader 🥺🙏 Jealous/possessive Donnie, maybe he snaps at some guy for coming onto the reader and then feels a little insecure about the relationship and needs reader to remind him that he's all they want. Maybe Donnies a little rough/possessive during the sex(feel free to disregard this if you want) and preferably private sexy times if you could. 💜💚

[HOLD] for one muse to slide their arm around the other in a possessive way.

[REMIND] for our muses to have passionate sex meant to remind one party who they belong to.

To eachother:

"Tell me you're mine." and " no one else is ever gonna have a chance with me. You're it. You're all I want."

To a third party:

" don't you dare touch them."

You know I love my mans, so let’s do this.

“That I miss you when it’s quiet”

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He often wondered if these little appreciation events were worth it. For the most part they were usually held at a secret location and aside from themselves, Chief Vincent and close friends; it was filled with known faces.

A majority of the police force was also invited. Donnie knew them all, not from speaking with them. He had files on every single person who knew of their existence. He had to be a step ahead naturally, contingency plans weren’t an easy thing to prepare but he had them.

He hadn’t quite developed one for jealousy though.

This was jealousy of course. He could feel how it vibrated everywhere within himself, from the clench to his jaw to the tension at his fingers. The rookie he’d refer to him, he was the one with less experience in the force compared to his comrades. It had dawned on this individual to start chatting you up, and maybe a few cocktails into the nights festivities had egged him on to be bold. Because as he laughed at, no doubt a shit joke, he thought he could slide an arm around your waist.

You had recoiled, a nervous smile trying to ease the movement.

But it’s all the incentive he needed.

Because Donnie marched his god damn ass over to the two of you ready to put one of his contingency plans in motion. He very sure of himself when he wrapped and arm around you, large three fingers digging into the side of your waist. You opened your mouth, relief washing over you that Donnie was there but his gaze was zeroed in on the tipsy man.

“Hey big guy! Havin fun?” The rookies splotchy red cheeks painted a picture of just how inebriated he was becoming.

Donnie tugged you close, nosed the crown of your head and simply whispered for you to go somewhere and wait for him.

As you walked away, you looked over your shoulder to see Donnie grip the man’s shoulder in what could’ve looked as a friendly pat.

You didn’t catch his words, muffled by the chatter and music.

Didn’t quite see as he tugged the man close and leaned down to his eye level.

“Don’t you dare touch her” He deadpanned, eyes focused and reading that whatever came out of this man’s mouth could be his saving or his downfall. It served to sober him up enough and the man staggered backwards with fear in his eyes.

Exiting the party felt like a blur, there was a quiet almost volcanic feel to the ride back to your apartment. You figured you’d turn in and forget this messy end but when Donnie pushed open the window as your closed the door to your apartment you knew other things were in store for you.

There was an apprehensive jitter to his movements, a second guessing that brought you back to the early stages of your relationship with him.

When you had approached him, hands landing on his rough plastron in a comforting rub. You could feel his early need to recoil.

But he didn’t.

He placed his hand atop your own and rubbed. You kissed him, did your best to quiet that mind of his that ran a mile a minute. With those kisses you had soon found yourself at the mercy of his hand undressing you and taking you to your bedroom.

It had been there that he found that all those feelings, all those drowning sounds that sounded much like his own voice, could finally quiet themselves. He need not remind himself that when he had had you beneath him all he needed was to simply loose himself inside of you.

And that he did.

You felt his hands slide beneath you to grip your rear and further glue you to the bed. His face was stuck to your neck and with each thrust you felt his groans vibrate all across your skin. His teeth found that sensitive spot, your his quickly melted into a moan as he angled his hips. You wanted to see his face, wanted those beautiful eyes of his glued to you but just as you tried to stick your arms out from beneath his own he spoke.

“Tell me you’re mine” He mutters out against your cheek, huffs of warm air hitting you just as you lift your legs a little more.

His words aren’t playful, they don’t have that hint of flirtatious undertone that they have. When his eye do land your face, when you see how naked his gaze his, it hits you that he’s needs this.

He needs to be reminded that you belong to every inch of him.

You managed to unstick a hand and grip his chin, his thrusting slowing to a gentle rocking. You held his gaze, mouth dry from your exertions but you smiled, honest and sincere.

“No one else is ever gonna have a chance with me. You’re it. You’re all I want.” Your thumb ran across his lower lip, and every beautiful and meaningful look you had give him before did not compare to the way you looked at him in that very second

You watched his eyes, shiny and moist and holding back simply breaking apart on top of you.

“Im yours, Donnie”

He dove into kiss you, so feverishly and so desperately.

[smilingbluetiger]

"No one speaks so beautifully of being afraid of love as you do."

(Severus x You)

I don't know how to tag

Tags: #severus needs a hug #you need a hug #"i love you" #no happy ending

This is the first time to publish such a long text in English. I ask for your understanding. The title is taken from a Polish song. It seems to me that these words are very suitable for Severus. Enjoy your reading.

----------------------

Severus lay together with his companion on the couch. Severus used the woman as a pillow and let her play with his hair in return. It was really nice with music playing in the background and the fireplace burning.

The woman's eyes looked at the man's calm face. His eyes were closed, the wrinkles had softened and he now looked much more his age. The woman, who had not spent the first evening with him, felt that she could have stayed there forever. At this exact moment.

"Severus..."

"Hym?" She got the sleepy reply of a man tired after a whole week of work.

"I think... I think I love you."

"Stop."

In an instant, black eyes looked at her alertly, and wrinkles appeared on his face again. The woman's lips parted because she wanted to say something, but she didn't manage.

"Don't say anything. And if you must, don't say those words." He said firmly and resolutely. He did not take his eyes off her, and the woman felt apprehension to speak up.

"But... Why?" The woman's hand wanted to stroke his hair again. He caught it and squeezed it more than necessary. The gaze of black eyes focused on the hand he held, as if she was the culprit behind his change in mood.

"Because these words always destroy everything." His voice indicated that he was reaching back with his memory somewhere very far. "If you want to continue our arrangement, you can never say that."

Black eyes focused again on the woman lying beneath him. Severus could see the emotions flowing across the face of the woman, who had been a vital part of his private life for some time.

He watched as she yanked shis hand away and massaged wrist. He gripped it too tightly... He moved away and sat down on the couch giving the other person space. The woman did not move.

Dark eyes focused their gaze on the fire. The silence lasted for several drawn-out seconds.

"Even if I feel it? Is it just about the words?"

"... Don't cross that line. It's for the best. It's fine the way it is." He replied still focused on the fire. His hands were clasped tightly together to prevent his fingers from breaking off. He must not show weakness.

Another long seconds of silence.

"Yes... Straight up a dream arrangement." He felt the person next to him rise to sit down and get up from the couch, but he continued to stare at the fire. From hearing, he recognized that she had gone around the couch and was walking around the room. He allowed himself to close his eyes. He prepared to hear the sound of teleportation from the fireplace. So far, he only heard her stop somewhere behind his back. He clenched his eyelids and fists tighter to resist the urge to turn toward her. He also resisted the prompting to use legilimency. The fear of seeing himself through her eyes now was too great, and if she realized.... She would then realize how foolish it would be to even consider a relationship with someone like him.

The music was still playing, but no sound came from the person still standing behind him. The potions master's nails, despite being cut short, dug into his skin in anticipation. Let it happen already. Let him taunt him and leave.

But instead he felt hands on his shoulders. He shuddered at the sensation, but the hands did not retreat and began to massage his tense body. A sigh of relief was unconditional. She knew what to do. The man was aware that he had let her in far enough that she knew his weaknesses. A fool... But he couldn't resist it when her movements and presence gave him a relief he hadn't experienced even during his encounters with Lily.

He didn't even know when he was leaned with his back on the couch, his head resting on the headrest. He felt the top of his head touch her stomach. His eyes were still closed. He let her do whatever she wanted with him.

Pathetic. He was so pathetic in his desire to touch her. She had power over him. She didn't interrupt the massage, but only changed places, mussing his neck, his jaw, until she reached his cheeks. He felt her brushing his hair away from his forehead. He felt her warm hands place themselves on his cheeks and gently stroke his dry skin.

He tightened his eyelids again.

He felt that she was looking at him. He is the center of her attention. Attention he doesn't deserve, but needs. But he doesn't intend to admit it.

He wants to break out of this embrace that gives a feeling of security, peace, attention, a sense of being important and valuable.... Because it can't be true.

The man is stopped by the weight of the pressed forehead against his own. He opens his eyes in surprise and sees the woman's hair. She now has to kneel behind the couch to hold him with her hands and forehead. This can't be comfortable for her.... That's what Severus thinks, but then he feels wetness in his hair.

She is crying.

This thought is enough for him to slip out of the woman's grasp in an instant kneeling on the couch facing her.

The woman withdrew her hands from the back of the couch the moment he did. She lowered her head so that the man could not see her face from his position. But he could see her raise her hands to her face to wipe away her tears.

Severus felt his hands tighten on the back of the couch.

"Why don't you just leave?" He couldn't stand it. He didn't know where he felt anger from now, but he knew it shouldn't be like this. She shouldn't cry, she should go out and be with someone as good as her. SO WHY DOESN'T SHE DO THAT!

The woman was still kneeling. After a long moment, which was surely to make sure her voice did not fail her, she raised her head to look at the man above her.

"Is that what you want?" She asked him, and her voice was unnaturally colorless. Only the wet marks on her cheeks and the redness, betrayed the earlier tears.

Severus' clenched lips delayed the answer. "Yes. That's what I want." He replied withstanding her stare. This battle of glances lasted for a while before the woman began to rise from her knees and stood in front of the man.

Her hands touched his cheeks again. Only by a miracle did he not close his eyes and snuggle into her touch. No, it wasn't a miracle. It was damned pride that prevented him from giving himself that final goodbye. He knew that this is what was happening now.

The language of touch had always been more important in their relationship than words.

"You know Severus... No one speaks so beautifully of being afraid of love as you do." She smiled at him, and the touch became even more tender. Snape's dark eyes looked at her and saw that smile break her soul. That smile must be enough for him. He knew that her image would be etched in his memory.

He did not answer her. He removed her hands from his face and looked away. He rose from the couch and, as if nothing had happened, approached the bar completely ignoring the presence of another person in the apartment.

Somewhere between opening the bottle and pouring the alcohol into the glass, he heard the crackle of teleportation from the fireplace.

He lifted the glass to his lips and let the tart alcohol burn his tongue and esophagus.

After emptying the glass, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the apartment, silencing the gramophone and the music.

[boba-at-323]

Family First

Note : Food mentions! || The reader is pregnant, so if you're uncomfortable with such genres, I recommend not reading this || though omg why have I even written this when its one of my biggest fears

You woke up to a weary feeling, one a little more tired than usual. As your pregnancy progressed, your growing belly made it difficult to get comfortable at night. In fact, it was hard to even get a good night’s sleep with the baby moving around so much.

As the sunlight entered your bedroom through the spaces in the blinds, you shuffled around trying to find your husband. However, his usual spot next to you was empty. Disappointed, you tried to sit up still wondering where on earth could your husband have gone so early.

After a while of reluctantly convincing yourself to get out of bed, you decided to freshen up to start the day. With a little stretch, you left your bedroom.

To your surprise, you were greeted by the smell of waffles and eggs wafting through the air, along with the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Despite being nauseous, your empty stomach was practically pulling you towards the source of the smell.

"Good morning, beautiful," Renjun said, once he saw you entering the kitchen.

Renjun's little compliment made all of your tiredness melt away. You couldn't help but smile, feeling lucky to have such a sweet and caring husband.

"Good morning," you replied, rubbing your eyes, “What’s all this?”

“Oh nothing much,” Renjun shrugged it off as if it was nothing, a smile resting on his face.

He made his way towards you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He then pulled out a chair for you on the dining table and helped you sit down.

He disappeared into the kitchen again, only to come back with a tray full of the dishes he had been preparing. When he started serving you, you found out that Renjun had even prepared a plate of fresh fruit and a glass of orange juice for you, knowing that you needed all the vitamins you could get, both for you and his baby. Once he was done, he seated himself on the chair next to you.

As you ate, Renjun couldn't help but marvel at your beauty, even in the early hours of the morning. When he found out that he was soon going to be a father, he had put all his heart into finding resources and reading articles on various topics related to pregnancy and parenthood. He had also read somewhere that when someone was expecting, they usually didn’t feel so great about themselves and their appearances. So keeping that in mind, Renjun made sure to compliment his beautiful and amazing wife every now and then, just so she felt confident about herself.

You weren’t even halfway through your food when your baby started moving around again. You let out a small groan and looked down at your belly. Noticing what was going on, Renjun chuckled and placed a hand on your belly, feeling the baby kicking inside.

"Hey there, little one," Renjun cooed softly, "Are you hungry too?"

"I think so," you laughed as you placed a hand over your husband’s, feeling the warmth of his hand, "But not as hungry as your wife over here."

Renjun grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "Hey now, I made sure to cook you a big breakfast."

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness and support. You wondered what you would have done if you didn’t have him beside you. Even since your pregnancy, he became the greatest source of comfort for you. Every little gesture of his was full of love, and you knew that he was trying his best to be the perfect husband as well as the perfect father for his little one. Just the thought of how he had become even more caring brought tears to your eyes.

"Thank you Renjun," you continued, looking at him with glossy eyes "You know, I never thought I'd be one of those women who gets emotional during pregnancy. But every little thing seems to make me tear up these days."

"It's the hormones, love," he said, bringing his other hand to your cheek "They mess with your emotions. But don't worry, I'll be here to wipe away your tears."

“Cheesy…” you laughed light heartedly at his response, “But I’d love that.”

“I love you so much.” Renjun smiled back at you, feeling his heart swell with love.

As if on cue, you felt the baby kick again, causing both you and Renjun bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Looks like someone is jealous.” you addressed your belly, continuing to rub circles over it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love you a lot too. Go easy on your mom, will you?” He scolded playfully, never letting your smile fade away.

Both you and your child meant the whole world to him, becoming his top priority. He knew that he was about to embark on a new chapter of his life as a parent, but he was ready to face any challenge that came in his way as long as he had you by his side.

Title : Family First || Word count: 844 || Genre: FLUFF || Pairing: husband! Renjun x wife!Reader || GUESS WHOSE POSTING AGAIN ???

[gullableh]

•★  SICK🌌🪐

JULIAN. LOKI X MALE! READER.

★•° Warnings : boy x boy, cringe, very fluffy,

Swear words, fruity af.  Crack treated, like seriously crack treated

Reader is a simp.

Highschool AU

(I'm not good in french even though I got a 9-

I will use Google Translate mostly. So if youre reading this and you're french, im sorry if i made a mistake or two, you can correct me if I'm wrong ^^)

★•° summery :reader and Julian supposedly had a date. But sadly reader got sick and couldn't come. So Julian decided to pay his lovely boyfriend a quick visit, just a quick one...

★•° a fluff story so no dirty thoughts.

• usage of pet names

• relationship goals

• probably ooc since I'm not the best in   writing oc 

Music you could listen to while reading:

------------------°•©

Écoute chérie; 

Vendredi sur Mer

              The moon will sing;

                                           Angus & Julia stone 

Back to the old house;

The Smiths                     

              Lamp;

                                                     Yume Utsutsu

                

                                (Enjoy ^v^)

----------------------

Readers pov:

*Sigh*

This. Was. The. Worst. Oh you wanna know what happened? Oh well you probably already had read the summery, you still want me to tell? Okay sit down and listen carefully. Also next time read the summery some people aren't as generous as me to explain why my day is ruined. And the people who have read the summery. Good job here have a cupcake *gives the cupcake to you* ^v^

Anyways where was i? Oh yeah, listen carefully...

It was any normal day, I woke up went to school met up with my lovely boyfriend🥰

And I remembered after school we have a date, great right? Well I'm not finished.

After school I went ahead to go home and get prepared for my date with my boyfriend. 

I got home, had an outfit ready, and I was about to go when suddenly.

*Chough* *Chough*

I have no idea if mothers have mother senses (it would be cool if they did) but as if she had a spidersense of her own she grabbed my arm, shut the door and made me sit on the couch.

Then she went on a full on ten minute long lecture about how I was sick and that I should stay home. Wait stay home? But I was about to go on a date. Mother couldn't possibly do this to me, oh but she could.

Well anyways, now I'm here in my room, in my bed all depressed because I couldn't hang out with my boyfriend )': I had already told him, well, texted him that I wasn't able to attend our date since I was SiCk. Oh please, as if I would die.

I was moping in my bed all pouty, from disappointment because I couldn't see my boyfriend, but also from pain. (stupid migraine) It was I think around somewhere in the night, after dinner. when I heard something. I stopped moping and listened carefully where that sound came from

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

It was as if someone was knocking against glass, again I stayed quiet and listened attentively

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

Wait it sounded like it came from my window. I got up from my bed, fear slowly creeping up, I went to my bedroom window, and shoved the curtens to the side slowly, and then i saw....

Third person pov:

There he was, Julian Loki Infront of your window, the best soccer player in your school, also one of the kindest people in your school. And most importantly, your lovely boyfriend that you where thinking about the entire day.

A smile made its way to youre lips, but confusion was visible on [readers] face. What was he doing here, it's somewhere between eleven o' clock and twelve o' clock, shouldn't he be home alseep? Worry was also evident on the boys expressions. [Reader] quickly opened the window and let him in.

"Julian what are you doing here?"

"Mon chéri, sorry I wanted to come here earlier but my mother wouldn't let me out of the house."

He said with a sweet and gentle smile towards you. You see why I'm so smitten over this guy? 

Julian is always so sweet and gentle, he's like that towards everyone, but towards you he is even more gentle.

"Speaking of, why are you up so late?

You said you where sick, you should be resting Mon amour."

He said, he spoke with such a gentle tone, it was angelic, he was an angel that's why. He ushered you to bed like a mother would to their child. And you being such a simp for you're boyfriend, obliged and laid down on you're bed. Oh yeah did I tell you that he had a bag with him, well he laid the bag on the ground and started to rummage trough the supplies in the bag. He grabbed what seemed like medicine and food, that could help [reader] with his sickness.

"I also might have paid a quick visit at the infirmary."

He said with a smile that could blind you because of how bright it was. He grabbed a container with some liquid stuff, probably soup.

"Have you already eaten? It would be great if you did, but that would mean I bought this for nothing"

He said with yet again, another blinding smile.

Because of the stupid migraine and the fact that the sickness made you not hungry, you nodded you're head a no. You where indeed hungry but because of the sickness, you felt like throwing up everytime you're nostrils smelled the slightest bit of food.

"I'm not hungry, thank you Julian but there was indeed no need"

That was a big ass lie, and the both of you knew that all to well, he looked at you with a worried expression, yeah there was no way that he didn't know I was lying

"Mon chéri please tell me the truth"

Yup, now I feel guilty about lying yippie :'D

I took a deep breath and told him the truth, that shows how much of a sucker I am for this man. He again looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

"très chère chérie, if you want to get better you should eat healthy things, i don't like seeing you sick and in pain."

He gave me a sweet smile, but behind that smile was clear that he was still very worried.

I smiled at him back with as much gentleness.

"Im sorry Julian, I didn't exactly mean to lie, it just kinda slipped-"

"It's all right Mon amour, just please don't lie to me like that again."

He cut me off before I could even properly apologize, I smiled at seeing his gentle smile reapearing on his lips again. He grabbed the container with the liquid stuff in it, he opened the container and low and behold chicken soup. He grabbed the plastic spoon that was in the container with the soup.

"Open you're mouth mon chéri I'll feed you."

He said with a smile as if he didn't say the most flustering thing, I felt my face heat up specifically my cheekbones. The spoon with the chicken soup was right Infront of you're mouth, slowly you opened you're mouth a bit, until it was wide enough for the spoon to fit, for some reason this felt so embarrassing even if there weren't any people around, it was just so embarrassing being fed by someone. A while later and the soup was finished, you felt a bit better now that you weren't hungry anymore, but the migraine was still haunting you. Luckily you're savior in need is here to help you from you're misery.

Julian again rummaged trough his bag that he had brought along with him, he let out a small 'aha' as if to say that he had found something. He brought the thing out of the bag and let me have a closer look, it was painkillers, he really though of everything.

"I've brought some painkillers."

He wouldn't stop smiling, as I said such a sweet angel. He gave you the painkiller and abit of water to drink with, in one swift motion you chugged the painkillers with the water down in one sip. The painkillers where helping a bit but not as much as to make it completely go away.

"My head still hurts"

"Would you like me to massage you're scalp Mon amour?"

Definitely did not expect him to suggest that, but who would say no to that offer? So you nodded youre head with a smile and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed, I patted the empty place beside me, he made his way towards me and then sat next to me on the bed. He laid my head down on his chest, so that he could carefully massage my scalp while I was in a comfortable position. My head was laying on the side where his heart was, his heart beats where so soothing I could just fall asleep. Not long after did his hands began to gently massage my head, all of this was so very calming I could already feel myself geting tired and sleepy slowly and slowly.

"Is this alright mon chéri? If you're uncomfortable just tell me alright?"

I was already half asleep so I just let out a small 'hmm' so that he would know that I was still listening to him. He laughed at my tired state, he looked so adorable while laughing.

"Goodnight mon vie"

He said before giving youre lips a small peck. Not caring if he would get sick later, all he cared for now was that you where comfortable and safe. The rest didn't matter all that matter to him was you. 

Fin:D

★°•BONUS+

THE NEXT DAY

 you woke up from a very nice dream, you felt much much better after last night, guess Julian took very good care of you. you expected to wake up in you're own bed wich you did, but you specifically woke up in someone's arms, Julian's arms. he was still sleeping, so the ever so kind boyfriend you are, you let him have his rest and sleep. And seems like he had it enough because not even a minute after you woke up, was he starting to wake up. His eyelids slowly lifted up, revealing his golden brown eyes. They look so beautiful in the morning. He looked at you before a smile was forming on his lips, how cute this moment was. 

"Morning mon soleil"

Two boys waking up from eachothers arms, oh how adorabl-

*Chough* *chough* *chough*     

That was not me I swear. Oh it was julian, seem like he got invected when he kissed you goodnight last night....

Well then, atleast now you could repay him back with taking care of him this time.

Fin (fr this time)

-----------------------

This was so crack treated and cringe, I apologize if you felt second hand embarrassment-

[imkylotrash]

I used to get lost in your eyes

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (first person).

My hands are shaking. Any minute now, he'll come walking through that door and I'll have to break both of our hearts. Any minute now, I will have my last moment with him, and my bones are threatening to break under the weight of that knowledge. Keys rattle on the other side of the door, and I take a deep breath to stabilize my thundering heart. It does not do the trick.

"Hey, how was..." His voice trails off when he sees my packed bags by the door. There's no reason to try and hide the tears making their way down my cheeks. He'll know soon enough what will happen tonight.

"We need to talk." The four worst words in a relationship. My voice remains steady despite the cold making a home in my veins.

"What's going on?" He still has one foot out in the hallway as if not fully entering the room will change the outcome of tonight. It won't.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep waiting for you to let me in, because I don't think you'll ever be ready. And I definitely can't continue to be shut out when you're struggling. It hurts too much." I feel my bottom lip quiver as I try to reel back some of the feelings threatening to rip their way out of my heart. For so long, I've managed to keep them contained, but I can't do it anymore. I am tired.

"Please, don't. You know I've been working on this. You know I'm trying to-to-I don't want to lose you." Finally, he enters the room to walk over to me and get on his knees in front of me. For once, I can read him as an open book. The fear of losing me, the broken heart already demanding to be felt even though I'm still here. I see it all, but it's too late.

"I can't keep clawing at your walls, darling. My nails haven't even managed to make a single scratch." Nothing on this earth could prepare me for the feeling in my chest as I watch all hope evaporate from his face. I have to consciously remind myself why this is necessary. How many evenings I've sat waiting for him to come home, to tell me what troubles him. How many times I've gone to bed alone because he'd rather stay in his study and ignore the world. Once, I was naive enough to think that I might one day become his world. That he'd trust me enough to let me see the sides of him that were less than perfect. I did not harbor such sentiments now.

"There must be something I can do," he argues but I've made my decision. It will do none of us any good to dwell on what might have been.

"I'll stay with Lily and James for a few days until I find somewhere to go." It's selfish to bring his best friend into this, but I have nowhere to go and Lily is my best friend. It's only natural to seek her comfort right now. I tell myself it's only for a few days. And it's not as if James won't be able to come over and see Remus. I'd never get in the way of that.

"Please stay." With unsteady legs, I stand up and step to the side to pass Remus still on his knees.

"Please," he whispers so quietly, I almost miss it. If there is something smaller than a quark, I believe that would be equivalent to the size of the broken pieces of my heart lying shattered on the floor. He grips my wrist to keep me from taking another step, but I cannot stay. I cannot destroy myself to make him whole.

"Let go of me, Remus." It comes out as a plea rather than an order, but I cannot bring myself to cause him any more pain than necessary. Fire spreads where his skin touches mine and I curse how weak my body becomes by his touch.

"Don't make me do it myself. Please just let me go." I don't want to have to pry his hand off of me. I can't have that be my last memory with him. After a full minute, he finally lets go of my wrist.

"You are worthy of love, my darling. I'm just not the right person to give it to you." I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead as a final goodbye. The sight of his tear-streaked face will haunt me from this day forward, but I still walk out the door. And he doesn't stop me this time.

[strophalosx3]

HC about the ships I have for Claudio.

Claudio x Zafina

Their personalities are different. She tends to be more talkative and outgoing. She likes to see places and be filled with adventures. Claudio is much more about being at home and going out to discreet places for dinner or lunch. He is quiet but likes to listen to Zafina.

The one who took the first step to start their romance was Zafina. She was just very careful to confirm that he felt the same way. She kissed him one afternoon when they were walking in the streets of Egypt. Claudio did not wait for that movement. A little embarrassed, he returned the gesture and smiled.

When they spend nights together, Zafina is the one who mostly takes the initiative to have sex, but Claudio always has control over what happens in bed.

Zafina doesn't like to cook but she tries her best to prepare something for Claudio, he knows this, so they both cook together.

They usually argue because they have different opinions on esoteric or paranormal topics. Claudio does not believe in astrology and zodiac signs. Zafina always tries to explain why the stars guide human lives. Claduio listens to her but without changing his posture.

Claudio likes Zafina to tell him about her past and when there is a sad memory and she is bulnerable, he hugs her and kisses her forehead. "You're not alone anymore, you have me" He says when he hears her crying.

They both talk about their emotions and how they feel, Claudio understands emotional responsibility since he understood that he was treating Xiaoyu badly, that is why he does not want to make mistakes. Zafina always tries to communicate, although sometimes she can't find the words. Little by little they have connected and understood each other.

However, they are both scared by the idea of ​​marriage. She does not want to leave her land and Claudio would never leave the Dome. It is a topic that is not talked about at the moment.

Zafina has no family, only the people in her town who love her. Upon meeting Claudio, they doubted him a lot, they feared that he would hurt her because he was a man from another social sphere. Claudio tried to win over Zafina's people, but it was complicated, because everyone preferred Lars. Claudio's family accepted Zafina immediately, because she had many things in common with him.

Claudio x Dragunov

(Yes I ship them)

They are a stable and calm couple. They are both very similar. They love the tranquility of home, the silence of the city. Get engrossed in your hobbies or your work.

If you live together, the house will be a refuge or a bunker, the safest place in the universe. They both prepare food, share household chores, watch movies, listen to music. Claudio is amused by hearing Sergei sing.

Claudio is such an intuitive and analytical person that he learned the silences from Dragunov. The gestures on his face and the vibe he conveyed were easy for him to read. For Dragunov it is a gift that Claudio is not so talkative and says what is necessary or what should be said. Especially when they go out to restaurants.

How their relationship happened may be a mystery to many and something that no one expected. They both knew each other's existence. Dragunov always found Claudio very attractive. The beauty it projected was too surprising for him. Claudio knew the effect it had and found it amusing. Claudio played around a bit and kept control of this shameless flirting until Dragunov got the upper hand and cornered him somewhere. Claudio understood that he was there for him. He continued to tease him until they established the definitive role of a relationship.

They both wish they were more sexually active and fucked every damn night, but their jobs are very demanding. They see each other so rarely that they get frustrated. They have made sexual video calls as a means of consolation. They write and call each other very frequently to find out each other's status. When days off or vacations occur, they fuck like desperate people. Dragunov is the top and he has already broken two beds.

Living together of course is a great idea. A neutral country would be fine, because they both work for organizations in their countries. Knowing that they have each other forever gives them peace of mind. Security is what they are both looking for and calm.

They take care of each other. Dragunov's sense of protection and provider became more intense when they decided to live together. On his days off he prepared lunch for Cladio when he had to work.

In reality, none of their families care about their sexual orientation. Seeing them happy is what's worth it.

Claudio x Eliza

This relationship may be very toxic and probably dubious.

Eliza caught Claudio that time, drank his blood and created an unbreakable bond between them. He is bound to her for all eternity. Claudio hasn't told anyone about this, he doesn't want them to see a weakness in him. He is upset with himself for getting caught.

Obviously it is not a normal relationship. She is a vampire and drinks Claudio's blood to live. She appears at night in his room to eat, fuck and play with him a little, that is, fight. Claudio hates her at first but then he gets used to it.

She fucks like a nympho. Claudio spends many sleepless nights. Some colleagues have noticed his fatigue.

One day he decided that things could turn in his favor if he was smarter. So he invited Eliza to talk, to get to know each other, they were going to spend the rest of Claudio's life together, they had to be reasonable. Eliza showed her human side, she told about how she became a vampire and before becoming one she was a normal young woman who only wanted to get married and have children. He showed a human side that Claudio did not resist.

Eliza is in love with Claudio, too much. She idolizes her existence and her beauty, keeping this feeling a secret. Claudio is hers and it is enough to make her happy. He loves his suffering and his pleasure. Forcing him to blaspheme and do things degrading to him. He loves to break him and destroy his sanity. She wants him to be completely hers.

Claudio does not know the effect it has on each of them.

[ncsdlr]

Pick and Choose - Blossoming Love

Riverdale

Warnings: cheating (I do not encourage this), CHONI, hints of depression, talks of past trauma.

Pairings: Cheryl Blossom x fem!reader

Word Count: 1566

AN: Well, I finished this way faster than I thought I would, so here we are. I hope this isn't as shit as I think it is. 😃

_____________

A month. A whole ass month's worth of all this chatting, dating, and being clingy. You were so tired. You wanted a break, at least for a few minutes. In complete honesty, it wasn't all bad. You appreciated the gifts, the words of affirmation, and the romantic dates. All you wished for was a little distance. Everything was getting so serious so fast, and the fact that Cheryl made you feel so good about yourself didn't sit right with you.

Vulnerability wasn't your strong suit. It made you feel small. It made you feel like you were weak. So, to have someone act so close to you, made you feel things you didn't want to feel. "My love, what is on your mind?"

You tore your eyes away from the invisible speck on the ground and focused on your lover. You shook your head, "Nothing."

"I fear I don't believe that. Something else on your mind must have stolen your attention away from my gorgeous frame."

You internally cringed, not knowing whether to make an excuse or tell her exactly what was on your mind. "I'm just thinking of... things."

"Anything I can assist you with?"

You wrapped your arm around yourself and rubbed it on the bicep it landed on. Cheryl eyed your hand and squinted at it. "Not really. They're pretty mundane things."

Cheryl let you slide and opened her phone as it pinged. She grinned but rolled her eyes at the message she received. It read, "Fine, you win." Cheryl intended to ignore the message entirely, but then she got curious about how things would turn out. So, Cheryl being Cheryl, she let herself fall into the moment. "Meet me on our spot at Pop's."

"Dear, Y/N, I apologize, but I must leave. Something very important has come up. But do expect that once I get back to you, I will have very exciting news." Cheryl gave you a smile before she stood up and left, seemingly in a hurry. You didn't even get a word in, not that you minded.

Finally, peace and quiet. 

On second thought, your book gently fell back against the table as your mind wandered off somewhere no one would ever find. What could it have been? Cheryl would stay with you the whole day, and when she would tell you that she had to leave earlier, she'd let you give out a response before changing her mind and staying instead. You were so curious, it was, honestly, killing you. 

It took every fiber in you to take your book seriously. It was a good book. You didn't want to miss out. 

----

Toni sat there in all her glory waiting for Cheryl's striking entry, wearing her serpent jacket. She had made sure to dress up the way Cheryl wanted her to, knowing that if she did, their chances of getting back together would be higher. When the bell attached to the diner's door jingled, she turned her head to it, visibly lighting up as she spotted her favorite redhead strutting up to her. 

"I knew you couldn't live without me, I am, simply, the best thing anyone could ever ask for. So, dear Tee-Tee, I hope you've prepared a speech to move me enough to take you back." Cheryl sat on the stool to Toni's right and faced her ex. 

"Cheryl, I know we both can't live without each other. I can feel it. it's like we're bound together by some invisible string that makes us tied to each other. Cher, we complete each other, and this past month without you has been painful as hell." The way Toni spoke was gentle and soft. Cheryl loved this about her Toni. Her Tee-Tee could match the sensitivity of a situation with her words, and that made Cheryl feel safe. Toni handled her with so much care and patience, and she fell in love with that. She fell for Toni so hard and so fast. 

Toni meant everything to Cheryl, and losing her might as well be the world's end. With Toni, it was all or nothing for Cheryl. It was either commit or don't commit. She wanted to commit. They both did, but for Cheryl, something came up. Sure, she still wanted Toni, but not as much as before. Now, she only wanted Toni at a certain level.

They love each other dearly. They cared for each other. But there was this large strain in their bond that made it seem like fixing things or talking it out would not suffice as a fix. They felt compelled to hear the three words they dedicated to each other again, but Cheryl had restraints now.

Then in the heat of the moment, Cheryl found herself leaning back against the counter while Toni pressed her body against her's for a big kiss. It was slow and passionate, something they'd been yearning to experience from each other again. Now that Cheryl had Toni again, everything else just didn't matter, or in Cheryl's mind, fuck it.

They found themselves in Cheryl's bedroom at the Thistle house, making out against her door like they would die if they stopped. It just felt so good. Their hips gyrated against each other, the moment proving to grow hotter by the second. As Cheryl's back hit the soft mattress of her bed all the while keeping her lips locked onto Toni's, it sealed their fate for the night.

When they awoke the next morning, they did their morning routine. They shower together while making no effort to keep their hands to themselves, cooking breakfast, and holding onto each other on their way to school. They were both still reeling off from their midnight escapades the previous night, so the world was pretty much blurred around them. Their focus remained on each other, not even bothering to hide their very couple-ly PDA.

You noticed, of course. I mean, they were everywhere and they were the talk of the school. Most students murmured about Choni being back together, while the smaller half muttered sick comments saying how Cheryl used you to get Toni back.

You weren't going to lie and say you weren't hurt. You were, but not as much as you should be. Were you hurt? It wasn't like you cared about Cheryl at all. It's not like you weren't just starting to get comfortable enough to open up to her. Funny enough, you were, actually, planning on telling Cheryl everything tonight. Oh, well. It didn't matter anymore. She finally had what she wanted.

You proceeded with your day like normal. I mean, nothing really changed, it wasn't a big loss. That's what you told yourself at least. As the day dragged on, you forced yourself together, squeezing your eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again to relieve some of the drowsiness you felt. When all of your classes for the day finished, you headed to the library and sat down on the floor between two aisles of bookshelves, resting your head in the palm of your hands as you curled your knees up to your chest.

Life, for you now, is uneventful, other than the whole Cheryl thing. Your life before coming to the North side of Riverdale was hell, but it was perfect nonetheless. Your parents were there, your family, your grandmother, your home, your serpent family. It was all you knew, so when you had to move due to Hiram's work, it really crushed your soul. Then came the day of your family slowly being ripped away from you. It was like your heart was being gripped very tightly, thus causing you to feel as if it had stopped beating entirely. But it still was. It just took you a while to realize it. 

After those traumatically tragic events, you opted to just go with the flow, sitting alone and keeping to yourself. You still hung out with the Serpents, of course, they are your only family left after all. But even if that is the case, you still felt like you were the only one who was left in the moment of grief. It looked, to you, like you were stuck in a ditch with no chance of getting out any time soon. It took something that shined as bright as the sun to find a way out, but even then, time was at a standstill for you.  

Along with that came the emptiness you felt. It was like you had something to do, but you didn't know exactly what that thing was. You were in a very complicated ditch, and there wasn't anything to grab onto around you. But there was one, only it was all the way on the other side, and you didn't have enough energy to get up and get to it. You wanted help, yet you were too tired to seek it. For you, it was exhausting to even think about, getting up to help yourself and all that. 

In this ditch, it was dark and cold. It felt like there was this big storm coming and it was nighttime, and there was no safe place around for you to nestle yourself in for, at least, the shortest amount of time. It was like, wandering around the desert, stressed, tired, and cold. It was pressuring. The world was pressuring. It motivated you yet diminished your confidence in conquering its trials. It tested your patience greatly.

And you aren't the most patient person to ever exist.

[butler-on-beale-street]

Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus!Reader | Part 9 

Warnings: Allusion to SA, as discussed in previous chapter. That's about it!

Word Count: 6.1K

Have you read part 8?

Summary: He doesn't usually do it, but in times like these, Elvis isn't afraid to flex his status if it means that he can get home to you as fast as possible--even if it is in the middle of the night on a full flight.

Elvis gathered his belongings from the hotel room, packing a bag as fast as he could, his heart racing as he practically jogged around the room. He rushed his way through a shower, not even bothering to comb his long hair back into his usual coif. It hung limply in his face, dripping beads of water down onto his nose. He shoved as much as he could fit into the duffel bag, taking no time to straighten, fold or pack the items nicely. He sat on the edge of the bed and dialed 0 on the phone. “Operator, Beverly Wilshire, how can I help you?” A woman’s voice began. 

“Concierge, please,” he asked. 

“Yes, sir. Just one moment,” she said. Elvis heard a small click on the other side of the receiver and heard the dial tone continue to ring.

 “Front desk, Beverly Wilshire.”

“Hello, This is Elvis Presley in room 456. I would like my car pulled up for me.” 

“Oh, of course. Right now?” The concierge confirmed. 

“Yes sir. Immediately–as soon as you can, I mean,” Elvis backtracked, fearing that he was rude. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir. We will have your car prepared for you in five minutes.” 

“Thank you very much,” Elvis said appreciatively before hanging up the phone, walking into the bathroom to take one last look at himself before stepping out of the hotel room. He ran a comb through his dripping hair, tidying it the best he could with what little time he had. He wore a simple white t-shirt, but he saved a casual sport’s coat to pull over it so that he could look presentable. In the mirror, he didn’t look like himself. His complexion wore quite pale, his eyebrows struggled to relax, and his hands kept pulling into fists, his emotions swirling somewhere between anger and fear. He looked at himself once more in the mirror before determining that he had a job to do, and that nothing else mattered. He needed and wanted to be with you. Though it didn’t make sense, he silently blamed himself for not being there with you in Memphis. He beat himself up for it as he walked down the hotel hallways. At this late hour, he was grateful that there weren’t many people milling about the hotel. He was bound to be recognized, but he hoped that it wouldn’t turn into a mob. He took the elevator down and watched the button for each floor illuminate as it went down. He cursed to himself as it stopped on the seventh floor, opening for two adults and a small child. They all held hands with each other, the kid toddling in last, taking her sweet time to cross the threshold of the elevator.

 “Sumi Lee, come on, sweetheart. Let’s not keep this gentleman waiting any longer.” The little girl held a red dog pulled snuggly against her chest. The woman looked up at Elvis and nodded apologetically at him. “Sorry, Mr. Presley. Little kids,” She explained. She knew who he was, but didn’t make a show of it. Elvis smiled kindly, squatting lower on the child’s level. 

“It’s safe in here, little one.” He beckoned Sumi Lee forward into the elevator with a friendly wave. She smiled sweetly, stepping into the elevator, hugging the dog and squeezing it tight before pushing it to Elvis to take. 

“For me?” Elvis asked, reaching for the toy. 

“Hug!” she said, speaking for the first time. 

“A hug he wants, a hug he gets!” Elvis answered, taking the stuffed animal and pulling it tight against his chest, kissing the top of its head. He grunted like one would during the tightest of hugs. “He’s a good hugger, little Sumi Lee.” Elvis handed the toy back to her. “Thank you for letting me give him a hug. I think I needed it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Presley,” The father said, maintaining a reserved and quiet demeanor. 

“Elvis,” he said, extending his hand for the man to take. The man looked at Elvis's hand for a long moment, as if unsure what to do. He offered his hand finally, shaking it firmly. “Have a wonderful night, sir.” Elvis said, ending the conversation. “Goodbye sweetie,” he said, bending down to kiss the child on the top of her head, right in between her two pigtails. She giggled softly. 

“Bye, bye mister!” Elvis smiled softly before stepping out of the elevator toward the front desk.

 “Mr. Presley,” the concierge said discreetly. “Your vehicle is right outside. The valet will assist with your bag as well as giving you the key.” Elvis nodded and thanked him before stepping out of the hotel. 

“Here you are, sir,” the valet said. This time, it wasn’t Michael, but another man. “May I help you with your bag?” he asked, extending his hands. Elvis gave the man his bag, watching the valet load it into the trunk of the car and arrive back with the key. “Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Presley.” The valet nodded respectfully before stepping back from the vehicle. If Elvis had more time and was less stressed, he would have given him a sizable tip. 

“Thank you,” Elvis said distantly before stepping into the Cadillac, and driving it out of the porte cochére and onto the main road. He drove through the Hollywood Hills, wasting no time. His destination was LAX, Los Angeles International Airport. It was approaching eleven P.M., and chances were slim that there would be any flights available at that time, but he had to try. He was Elvis Presley, after all. He arrived at the airport some time later, pulling into the Park N’ Go parking lot. He threw his car keys in his pocket and jogged into the airport toward the check in counter. The woman behind it was talking to a flight stewardess who looked quite disheveled. 

“I missed the flight. I’m going to get canned, Roxy.” She said, leaning over the counter dejectedly. 

“Just smile and look pretty tomorrow morning when you clock in. Maybe they’ll go easy on you,” Roxy responded, obviously trying her best to comfort the other woman. 

“Excuse me,” Elvis said, clearing his throat. The women went silent as they turned towards him. Usually, he would have been enthused to watch their jaws go slack as they recognized him. He continued to speak, cutting off their opportunity to fawn over him. “My name is Elvis–”

“Presley!” The flight attendant said, her voice way too loud. 

“Shhhhh,” he said softly, putting his hands up. “Yes,” he nodded. “I’m trying to find the next flight to Memphis, TN. It’s an emergency and I’m trying to get home.” 

“I-I’m sorry to hear that. Let me check the books.” The woman behind the counter said. She looked nervous, but seemed determined to help. “Bad news,” she said after a moment. “Boarding just closed. The flight looks full.” She looked up from the book at Elvis. Her expression was regretful but she didn’t seem ready to give up. 

“I have an idea!” The cute stewardess said after a moment. “But we’ve got to run.” She looked at Elvis and back at Roxy. She reached down for her heels and removed them, holding them in her hand. 

“Oh you weren’t kidding,” Elvis said with an impressed grin. 

“Not in the slightest. Come on,” she said, grabbing Elvis’s hand as she sprinted toward the gate. She ran fast. So fast that Elvis and Roxy had trouble keeping up. 

“Woman, my legs are going to fall off before we get there!” He huffed, offering her a bright grin. “What’s your name?” 

“Darlene!” She said. “You gotta get home, and I need to save my job!” He chuckled at her as he jogged. 

They arrived at the gate with five minutes to spare from takeoff. A man stood just outside of the external gate exit, closing and locking the steel door. “Jeffrey!” Roxy croaked, stumbling to a halt as she caught her breath. “I–I need you to open the door.” 

“What?” Are you kidding me? You know I can’t do that. The flight has to fly on schedule.” Jeffrey eyed her with confusion. 

“Good evening, sir.” Elvis stepped forward, causing Jeffery’s eyes to practically jump out of his skull. “Sir, I’ve got a family emergency. I’m trying to get home to Memphis.” 

“I–I’m sorry sir, but the flight is full.” Jeffrey said, walking around the receptionist podium toward the record log. 

“I might not have a job tomorrow, so I’ll do it,” Darlene said, stepping forward.

 “Excuse me?” Jeffrey asked. 

“You saw nothing,” Darlene warned, eyeing Jeffrey as she stepped forward to the door, prying open the lock and pulling on the door. It opened, but only after she man-handled it open, using her entire body in the process. “Wait, it’s not safe. You’re breaking so many rules!” He shouted after her. She was already gone before anyone could do anything about it. The trio stood inside watching her flag down the pilots. To their amazement, they unlatched and lowered the stairs for her to board the plane. 

Darlene walked up the stairs with dignity, heading to the cockpit. “Young lady, what do you think you’re doing?” The co-pilot said, swiveling in his seat to watch her step into the small space. 

“Risking my job for Elvis Presley.” She admitted frankly. “Listen, he’s got a family emergency. Trying to get home to Memphis.” 

“Yeah and I’m Buddy Holly,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle. “Earl, listen to this woman. Says she’s got Elvis Presley wanting to get on the plane.” The pilot turned, removing his radio headset to look back at Darlene. 

“Honey, what is your motive? We’re fully staffed. You’re pretty and all, but we don’t need another stewardess.” 

“You don’t understand. Elvis Presley is standing at the gate door.” Darlene looked outside of the plane, hoping that they didn’t shut the door. To her relief, she watched them standing, talking to each other. “Look!” She pointed out of the window. “Look up!” Both pilots peered out of the cockpit. The co-pilot practically climbed over Earl. Their jaws dropped when they saw him. 

“Holy cow, you weren’t kidding!” Earl said, looking back at Darlene with bewilderment. “We can’t do anything about the flight, though.” 

“Well, people have to get off planes to allow others to get on board.” She said, as if posing a proposition. 

“What exactly are you saying?” 

"It's Elvis Presley. You can't tell me no one would be willing to jump off the plane for him." Darlene bit at her bottom lip, waiting for the pilot to consider. 

"If someone offers to deboard, he can get on. No special treatment, though. My plane won't be turning into a party. 

"I don't think that's his goal. Would you mind if he announced his situation on the intercom?" Darlene asked. 

"Let me meet the guy first." He said, standing and crawling out of the cockpit.

"Mike, I'll be right back. Don't make any announcements just yet." The co-pilot nodded and turned his attention to the control panel of the cockpit, grabbing a control book from one of the compartments of the aircraft. Darlene watched him initiate the checklist sequence before turning and following the pilot out of the plane. 

"It's Elvis Presley. You can't tell me no one would be willing to jump off the plane for him." Darlene bit at her bottom lip, waiting for the pilot to consider. 

"If someone offers to deboard, he can get on. No special treatment, though. My plane won't be turning into a party. 

"I don't think that's his goal. Would you mind if he announced his situation on the intercom?" Darlene asked. 

"Let me meet the guy first." He said, standing and crawling out of the cockpit.

"Mike, I'll be right back. Don't make any announcements just yet." The co-pilot nodded and turned his attention to the control panel of the cockpit, grabbing a control book from one of the compartments of the aircraft. Darlene watched him initiate the checklist sequence before turning and following the pilot out of the plane. 

Darlene struggled to hide her growing smirk as she watched the pilot strut across the tarmac and into the gate. He adjusted his gait as he laid eyes on Elvis, clearing his throat and straightening his already-neatly placed necktie. 

"Good evening," Earl said, offering a hand out for Elvis to take. Elvis took the pilot's hand and shook it firmly. 

"Good evening, sir. Sorry to stir up trouble," Elvis said, offering an apologetic smile. 

"Eh, it's no sweat off my back. Heard there's an emergency back home?" He said, expectant for an answer. Knowing it would take far too long to explain, he opted to lie.

 "My Dad is sick...they tell me it's pneumonia, that he's not doing too well." Earl took his cap off and ran his fingers through his crew cut. 

"Gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that, sir." He said, his expression full of concern. "Let's see if we can get you home, shall we?"

Earl led Elvis out of the gate, waving goodbye to Darlene, Roxy, and Jeffrey. "Wait," Elvis stopped the pilot. "Miss Darlene has been so helpful. Can we get her on this flight to work? She missed her other flight. I don't want her to get in trouble." The pilot looked over Elvis's head at Darlene before returning his gaze. "I will speak with her superiors and tell them that she was a big help in getting you to your final destination. Though, if you would, it wouldn't hurt to write a letter explaining the situation. Hearing the story from Elvis Presley himself says more than from a measly pilot," Earl chuckled. Elvis noticed the slightest bit of nervousness from the pilot, though he didn't comment on it. Earl trained to stay calm, so it was rare to see any hint of vulnerability from someone in his position. 

"You're doing many people a great act of service," Elvis said, patting the pilot on his shoulder. "Say, are you a serviceman?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Earl nodded. "Second Battalion, five-hundred third Infantry Regiment." 

"Thank you for your service, sir. Even if I don't get on your plane, thank you." Elvis offered his hand, which the pilot took. 

Earl led the way back into the plane, grabbing the microphone for the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay. I have someone here who would like to speak with you." Earl handed the receiver over to Elvis. 

"Uh, good evenin' everyone." Elvis began, creating a stir in the cabin. 

"That's not Elvis," a woman barked. Another younger teen jumped up from her seat. 

"It is! Saw him walk out to the plane!" 

The plane began to chatter loudly, making Elvis nervous. He pulled back the curtain that obscured the cockpit from view. Stepping out to wear passengers could see him, he continued to speak. A roll of gasps filled the air. 

"It's him!" 

"Elvis Presley!" 

"Shh...Let's hear what he has to say."

Elvis waited for the commotion to die down before continuing. "Hello. I-uh, I'm sorry to inconvenience you on your journey, but I wanted to ask a favor if you're willing." He looked around the cabin at the sea of faces, some very young, some very old. 

"See, I've got an emergency back home. My family needs me back in Memphis. I wouldn't usually ask for somethin' like this, but there's no seats on this plane, and it's the last of the night." The crowd remained silent. 

“I’d be happy to give free tickets to my next concert. Uh, autographs. Dinner at home in Graceland whenever you want. I will pay it back two times over, you have my word.” One by one, people of all ages began to stand up, ready and willing to give up their seats. 

“I want dinner with Elvis!” A teenage girl shouted. Her mother hushed her and sat her back down. The cabin erupted in laughter.

 “I’ll get off, Elvis. I’m on business anyway and I have a day in between meetings,” A young man said, standing up from his seat in business class. “Plus, I’ve got family in Los Angeles.” 

“Are you sure?” Elvis asked. 

“Absolutely.” The man got up and grabbed his belongings and moved into the aisle for Elvis to pass. Despite the more expensive section, women and men still reached out to touch him, as if they were testing if he were truly the celebrity. He was grateful that the man sitting at the window seat couldn’t have cared less about him. He lowered himself into the seat. He looked up into the aisle and shaked the generous man’s hand. 

“Please leave your name with the front stewardess. I will reach out to you soon. I’d love to have you home for dinner, if you’re interested. I’ll happily pay for your travel.” The man nodded kindly. “What is your name?” Elvis asked.

“Will–William Satterfield.” He answered. 

“Well, Will. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll remember you.” Elvis shook the man’s hand once more before he left. Though the man didn’t seem to mind, Elvis still felt guilty for asking a passenger for their rightful seat. The plane was noisy with conversation as the pilots and crew prepared for takeoff. Passengers got out of their seats to talk to Elvis, climbing over each other and lining up toward the front of the plane. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for departure.” The pilot spoke from the cockpit, but the people remained clogged in the same area. Elvis turned his head to watch a stewardess walk toward the cockpit. “Attention: in order to taxi the plane to the tarmac, everyone must be in their seats. Otherwise, the plane cannot and will not take off. Those who do not abide by this request will be asked to leave the plane.” 

The crowd dispersed reluctantly, murmuring insults as they took their seats. In the last minute, a woman from first class moved into the aisle beside Elvis’s seat. “Trade seats with me.” she whispered, trying her best to not attract attention to herself. 

“Huh?” Elvis asked. 

“Switch seats with me. For privacy. I don’t need it. I can tell you’re gonna be heckled all night.” She had kind eyes and a beautiful smile. What impressed Elvis more was that she treated him like a person rather than an object. “Besides, I don’t feel like being checked on by the stewardesses every five minutes.” Elvis nodded with appreciation. 

“Thank you, honey. I really appreciate it.” 

“Don’t mention it. Get home safe. The woman squeezed Elvis’s hand fondly before letting him move up closer to the front of the plane, taking the woman’s previous seat. He was grateful for the personal space, as well as the privacy screen that could be pulled down from the ceiling of the plane. In truth, after so much socialization, he wasn’t feeling very charismatic. He played it off well, but his stomach churned with unease, the miles in between Memphis seeming to go on and on forever. He leaned his head against the window, letting the undulation of the plane’s engine lull him into slumber. 

***

Four hours later, his eyes flew open, his head jerking downward in reflex as the bright cabin lights clicked on. “Good–very early–morning, everyone. We will be landing in Memphis in fifteen minutes. Please keep all items stowed in the bin in front of you, stay seated and prepare for landing.” The intercom dinged as the stewardess finished speaking and the lights dimmed again. Elvis rubbed the sleep from his eyes, straightening himself in his seat. In the idle time, he took a small notepad out of his back pocket, as well as the pen from his checkbook and began writing. 

Thirty thousand feet above and only thinking of you. Sending me higher and higher than airplanes fly. I’m thinking of you, only of you…I can’t focus on anything but you. Even when it’s another woman, another actress, no matter the beauty, the grace or talent, your face dominates my view. I only ever think of you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way…my heart jumps out of my chest with the chance to call you mine…it’s a shame I haven’t gotten to ask you yet. 

“Prepare for landing,” a voice announces on the intercom, prompting Elvis to put away the notepad, flipping the book closed and sliding it, as well as the pen, into his pocket. He was among the first to leave the airplane, and he did so quickly, trying his best to avoid the crowd behind him. He practically sprinted down the terminal toward the airport entrance. The airport wasn’t busy in the slightest, but he just couldn’t handle having to talk to more people. He made his way toward the front reception area towards an older looking man. He hedged his bets with the man, hoping he wouldn’t make a show of seeing Elvis in person. 

“Sir, My name is Elvis Presley. Can you tell me where I could make a phone call? Somewhere a bit more private?” The man looked up at Elvis with a gentle smile. “Of course, sir. The Admiral’s Club is around the corner to the left. It is private for our most valued patrons.” He winked at Elvis. “My daughter loves your music, by the way. You look tired, so I won’t make a fuss. Can’t wait to tell her I met you.” 

“What’s her name?” Elvis asked, reaching for his notebook, turning it to a new blank page. 

“Gladys. Gladys Ann.” The man answered. 

Elvis looked up at him with interest. “That’s my Mama’s name!” He took his pen and scrawled a quick note. 

To Gladys, the sweetest of the bunch. Love, Elvis.

He tore off the piece of paper and gave it to the man. “Thank you, young man. Best of luck to you. She will be over the moon! Go on now, I’m expecting a crowd any minute with the next flight.” The man shooed Elvis away, trying his best to be considerate of his privacy. Above his head across the lobby, he saw a sign directing him to the Admiral’s Club. He didn’t want special treatment, he just wanted a phone and a few minutes of peace. 

“Hello, sir.” Elvis said, stepping into the club, which was pretty much deserted except for a middle aged business man smoking a cigar in the far corner of the lounge. Elvis leaned over the reception desk. The concierge sat in his chair reading a novel. He looked up at Elvis. 

“Oh my goodness. I am so sorry…Mr. Presley! Wow!” He checked his wrist watch at the time. “Wow, you’re certainly here early.” 

Elvis offered a charismatic smile. “Yes, well a red eye flight wasn’t really my plan, but here we are,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “I was wondering if I could borrow your phone so that I may call a car to pick me up.” 

“Oh, sir. I’d be happy to call the car service myself and order you one. It’s not a problem,” he said, picking up the phone from the receiver. “Thank you sir. From here to 3764 Highway Fifty-One South. Oh and please say that the car is for a Mister Vince Jones.” The concierge nodded, confused for a moment. He realized that Elvis was trying to be discreet and ordered the vehicle promptly. 

“Ten minutes, Mr. Presley. We’re glad to have you home.” He offered Elvis a kind smile. “Please,” he waved around the lounge. “Take a seat, or we can offer you a drink, maybe coffee if you are interested…” 

Elvis shook his head politely. “No thank you, but I appreciate the offer, sir. Just tryin’ to get home. Surprising my family for a few days.” It wasn’t completely a lie. His family didn’t know he was in Memphis, so they were bound to be joyful to see him. 

He nodded. “Understood. Well, it was lovely to meet you, Elvis.” The gentleman reached his hand forward. Elvis shook it with enthusiasm. 

“Thank you, sir!” He offered a kind smile and loitered quietly around the lounge until he saw a man in a suit walk into the airport from across the corridor. He held up a sign that read ‘Vince Jones.’ Elvis gave a kind two-finger wave to the concierge before stepping out of the lounge and making his way across the airport, looking cautiously to his left and right for fear of being spotted. Elvis walked towards the chauffeur hoping that he would continue being discreet. His eyes widened slightly with recognition, but he was extremely professional. 

“Good Morning, Mr. Jones.” Elvis nodded with a gentle smile. “Good morning, sir.” 

“May I take your bag?” The driver asked. Elvis handed his duffle bag to him to take and he took the lead out of the airport. He opened the back door for Elvis to sit before closing it and putting the bag into the trunk. He walked around the car to the driver seat and got in, turning the key in its ignition. 

“Graceland?” The Driver said, turning in his seat to look at Elvis, offering a knowing smile. 

“Yes, please. Thank you for not making a scene in there.” Elvis said. For the first time since he left, he felt like he could finally relax. 

“Of course. It’s part of my job. You look tired–I mean that as respectful as I can…I just know when someone wants attention and when they don’t. Also, ‘Vince Jones?’ Kinda gave it away.” Elvis offered a thin smile. “Happy to serve you, Elvis. Let’s get you home before the sun rises, hm?” He turned back over the steering wheel and began driving. Elvis laid his head against the window, watching the familiar scenery pass his view. Even in the dark, he could recognize the diners, schools, grocery stores and churches as they passed. He must have nodded off, lulled into sleep from the drone of the vehicle. 

“Mr. Presley? You’re home, sir.” Elvis opened his eyes. The driver had pulled around the front of the house, which was dimly lit by the small sconces that hung on the outside of the house. Elvis sat up in his seat, stretching. The driver stepped out of the vehicle and opened Elvis’s door for him. Elvis stepped out, his face contorting with an exhausted  yawn. Elvis took his duffle bag from the man, paid him generously and walked toward the quiet house. His keys jingled as he unlocked the front door and stepped in. He looked around the familiar rooms, feeling weirdly out of place. Of course, he had come home at strange times in the day before, but rarely ever was he completely alone. Most of the time, he’d have someone home to greet him. He considered walking straight up the stairs to his bedroom to get a few hours of sleep without telling anyone, but he knew that his mother would have appreciated him coming to greet her upon his arrival. 

He walked towards his parent’s room and opened the door slowly, cringing slightly when the door squeaked within its hinges. He’d fix that later. He walked around the bed past his snoring  father to the other side to wake his mother. He knelt down and shook her lightly by her shoulder. “Mama. Hey. Mama…” She gasped awake, hearing the voice, but not immediately recognizing it as Elvis’s. Her eyes trained on him finally and she pulled her hands up to touch his face. “Elvis? Baby?” She sat up in bed. “What in the world are you doin’ home?” 

“I’ve got a friend I need to help.” He said, bending to kiss her softly on the forehead. “I just wanted to let you know I was home. Probably only for a couple days, but I’m here.” He moved back down on his knees so that his mother could look at him. 

“Baby you look like you’re runnin’ with the dead. You look tired–and are they feeding you? You’re too skinny.” Elvis shook his head with a soft smile. 

“Yes, mama. It’s just cause I’ve been travelin’.” He said, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go get a couple hours of sleep. I love you.” He kissed her on the cheek before getting up from his knees. 

“I can make you breakfast the way you like–with the extra sausage wieners with ketchup–” She squeezed Elvis’s arm lovingly. 

“Oh Mama, save that for tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be on my way to my friend’s house before breakfast anyway.” 

“Who is this friend, anyway?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. She asked the one question that caused him to blush. Even in the low light of the bedroom, his mother saw it. “It’s a lady friend, isn’t it?” She asked with a knowing grin. Elvis considered lying, but something compelled him not to. 

“Yes, Mama. I want you to meet her. She’s wonderful. Beautiful, sweet….thoughtful.” Gladys nodded, pulling the covers around her. “Did you meet her in hollywood? Some toe-headed blond girl with long legs…” She spoke as if she had one day wished to fit the imagine of the woman she described. 

“No. She’s from here. Memphis. I met her before I left for the movie.” Gladys nodded. “A southern belle?” She asked with an impressed smile. 

“One with a brain, Ma’. She’s all I can think about.” He took his mother’s hand, squeezing it softly. 

“Oh, baby. That’s just wonderful. Are you surprising her?” She asked. 

Elvis nodded. “Yes. Got a late flight so I wouldn’t be bombarded by fans.” Gladys nodded. 

“That’s good. Well, sweetheart. Go get some sleep. Ill see you later. Maybe I can fix you a tomato sandwich like you like?” Elvis chuckled softly. 

“You know I can never say no to you, mama.” He bent to kiss her on the top of her head before stepping out of the bedroom. “Love you, mama.” 

“You too, baby.” Elvis closed the door softly before stepping into the kitchen, walking to the fridge to pour a large glass of milk. He leaned against the counter, feeling the tension in his shoulders throb into a dull ache as it finally began to relax. He didn’t know how it would go, but somehow he needed to be with you. He prayed that Harold would understand and accept his surprise arrival. 

***

Elvis was up early…he had barely slept, but it wasn’t anything that he wasn’t used to.; Insomnia had plagued him for several years. It was the stress of knowing that someone he cared about was hurting that made him feel beaten down. He still got out of bed, propelled by the guarantee of seeing you. He made the effort to look nice, taking a shower, shaving and combing his hair neatly. He spritzed on a few sprays of Old Spice before reaching for an outfit. Today, he would go for something more relaxed. He chose a blue and white seersucker cotton button-down and paired it with a dark pair of trousers and a pair of black oxfords. He walked out to the dining room where his parents sat, eating breakfast and discussing the headlines in the morning paper.  

“I’m headed out, Mama, Daddy.” He came around and gave them both kisses on the tops of their heads. “Not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be around.” Elvis turned and began walking out. 

“Elvis!” Gladys called after him. 

“Yes, Mama?” He asked, turning around. 

“Don’t bring crowds to this poor girl’s house. Try to be discreet?” She said, lowering his gaze to him. “If she’s just a normal girl, she probably wants as normal of an Elvis as she can get.” Elvis nodded quietly. As he walked out of the house, he got an idea. He headed for one of his Cadillacs and drove out to the main road. 

An hour later, he walked out of the nearest dealership with the keys and registration to a 1956 Chevrolet Belair in Nassau Blue. The salesman offered–begged even, to deliver Elvis’s Cadillac Coupe DeVille to Graceland. Yes, this car was new, but at the same time, it was one of the most purchased vehicles in the country. Elvis figured that with this purchase, he would attract much less attention than with his own luxury cars that he liked to drive. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into your driveway. It was just past ten A.M, yet the house was still quiet. Elvis looked around the cul de sac to make sure that he wasn’t being watched. When he felt comfortable enough, he stepped out of the vehicle and headed to the front door. He thought about knocking, then saw the doorbell. He rang it and stepped away from the door. Uncle Harold pulled the door open. 

“Elvis?” He asked, shaking his head with confusion. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you.” 

“That’s quite alright, sir. Um, Evelyn told me what happened.” Uncle Harold shifted in place. It was obvious that it made him uncomfortable to talk about. “I came home. For her.” 

Uncle Harold nodded slowly, though there was still suspicion in his eyes. “All the way from Hollywood?” He asked. 

“Got the first flight I could find…last person on the plane,” he chuckled nervously. 

“She’s still asleep.” 

“That’s okay, I’m willing to wait for her to wake up. If that’s alright with you, sir.” Uncle Harold nodded slowly, peering over Elvis’s shoulder. “New car?” 

Elvis turned to join Uncle Harold’s gaze. “Figured it would be less flashy than the Cadillac.” Uncle Harold grinned, opening the door for him. “Come on in, son.”

“Daddy! Breakfast is up–I burnt the bacon, though.” Evelyn announced, walking into the dining room with two full plates. 

“Sweetheart,” Uncle Harold began. 

“I know, I know, I was cooking on too high of heat.” She said sheepishly. 

“Looks delicious!” Elvis said enthusiastically, causing Evelyn to look up. 

“Elvis! Wow that was fast!” She said, setting down the plates and stepping forward to give Elvis a warm hug. “How did you get home so fast? I called you LATE.” 

Elvis nodded as he squeezed her into a hug. “Had to practically beg someone to give up their seat on the last plane to Memphis from LAX.” 

“How on earth did you manage that?” Evelyn asked.

“Well, I mean,” Elvis said, blushing softly. “I’m kinda–” 

“I forgot. You’re so normal.” She said with a grin, sitting down at the table. Uncle Harold joined her. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“I don’t mind if you go up to see Y/n.” Uncle Harold said, checking his watch. “Sure she’d like to see you. Plus, she really should get up.” 

Elvis nodded. “Thank you, sir. Door open.” 

Uncle Harold smiled and nodded, enthused. “Door open.” 

***

She’s so beautiful, Elvis thought as he watched from the doorway as you slept. Sun rays cut through your curtains, spraying light into the bedroom. You were snuggled tightly within the covers, your hair puffed around your head in a halo. Your foot stuck out from the covers at the end of the bed causing Elvis to smile softly as he entered your room. He pulled at the comforter, covering you better. He leaned over you and kissed your temple. As soon as he saw you, his heart sprung to life with boyish excitement. You adjusted in bed, pulling the covers back up to your chest, still withdrawn to sleep. Elvis chuckled softly. “You’re so peaceful, Cheeks.” Elvis murmured softly, brushing the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You felt it. You smelled him. Was this a dream? You felt your body drift within the current of consciousness, teasing the idea of waking up before withdrawing again. You heard a soft tune being hummed. You had heard it before. Consciousness prevailed, letting you open your eyes for the first time. And he was there. Finally. Just when you needed him. 

“Elvis?” You asked, confused. 

“Hello, Cheeks.” Elvis smiled softly. 

“Elvis–oh my–” You reached out for him, though your muscles ached from the ordeal with Adam. Elvis squeezed you tightly, not realizing the pain he was inflicting. At the same time, you didn’t care. You could have clung to him for a lifetime within that embrace.

“I’m here, honey. I’m here. And I’m so, so sorry.” He held you protectively, tucking your head into the curve of his neck. “I'll make that sorry son of a bitch pay.”

End of Part 9.

Taglist: @mamaspresley @anestesia-mxm @misspygmypie @austin-butlers-gf @cozacorner @she-is-juniper @shimmeringlights44 @mariposa-mila @austinelvisimagines @sagesolsticewrites @guns-n-queen @anangelwhodidntfall @avengen @suitrry @eurusthewanderer @domaniquessidehoe @kittenlittle24 @softmullet @mirandastuckinthe80s @stargiirl27 @maddieks-blog @kyddosebastian @girlnairb @its-funny-til-its-not @im-just-star-dust @bobbykennedyfan @venus-haze @groovydeputyfestivalkid @hockeyfootballhoe @21bruhs @thebeatlesbitch @dangerdolll @captured-memory @kingelviscreole @adoreyouusugar @slutforblueeyes @theinvisiblecapricorn @ghxst-heart @yagirlalexx @sapph1re @madzandflowerz31 @kaycinema @theloveoftoms @annamarie16 @omgellenlouise @re3kin @feverdawg @cutie-ghost @shynovelist @fxntxsix @rheathesimp @madzandflowerz31 @writeroutoftime @bamitzzsam @meladollsims @mslizziesblog @headfullofpresley@shandis-world @in-my-body-bag @ash-omalley @stitchattacks @foreverdolly @fullmetal-falcon @lolllasblog@omgellenlouise@wolffes-cyarika @kaitaesupremacy

[flowerpottlady]

Icy

Day 4 of my domestic Jily series! All inspired by @jilymicrofics. I really have to thank all of you for your continued support, it means more than anything to see that people are reading and loving my stories <3 There is so much more to come and I cannot wait to share with you all!

***

The tension was thick, icy, and Lily’s stomach was in knots. Had been all day really - ever since her former headmaster had sent them a letter early that morning, informing the young couple he needed to stop by that evening. 

At first Lily had thrown herself into cleaning their flat, commanding James to vacuum the sitting room while she waved her wand around the kitchen, hiding away empty take-away boxes and dirty plates. But now, hours later and just moments before Professor Dumbledore was to step foot in their home, Lily succumbed to the nerves that enveloped her body.  

She sat on the sofa, her hands tucked under her legs to stop them from shaking, as James paced across the floor - eerily quiet. 

“I’m… I’m sure it will all be fine Lil. Maybe there’s just been a change in missions…” James rationalized, refusing to allow himself to think the worst. 

“What if somebody else died? We’re in a war James… we are used to getting this type of news by now.” Lily said softly, looking up at her husband as he stopped in his tracks. 

He marched up to her then, taking her face between his hands, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks, pushing her soft locks behind her ears and pressing his lips gently against her forehead. He kneeled down then, his panic-ridden hazel eyes softened as he spoke to her. “Whatever it is, we’ll be fine.” Although James wasn’t sure of it, for the first time he wasn’t sure of anything - only the gnawing ache growing deep in the pit of his stomach. 

There was crackling in their fireplace, and they both turned to witness Albus Dumbledore materialize into their flat.  It was definitely odd, seeing their former headmaster, so far out of his element, standing in the middle of the living room of two twenty year olds.  His long white beard covered in soot, deep burgundy robes swiping across the floor. 

What haunted Lily though, was the utter discomfort etched across his face. The devastation in his blue eyes, that once twinkled behind his half moon glasses, now looked at the two young soon-to-be parents in misery. 

Lily made no attempt to move, dread filling her. She fought back tears, preparing herself for the worst. Sirius had been on a mission to Bulgaria for the past three days. The news must have been about him.

Or her sister, Lily hadn’t heard from Petunia in over six months. But she wouldn’t put it past the death eaters to go after her remaining family members. 

“Professor,” James said by way of greeting, standing up to shake the wizened wizard’s hand. 

“James, Lily. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” 

Lily refrained from scoffing, she would never willingly invite the bearer of such dark news into her home.  

“Can I get you anything to drink? Lily just put the kettle on, but we have mead too… I might have some brandy somewhere.” James spoke smoothly, but Lily knew the  fear etched into his tone. 

“That’s very kind, but I think it best we move forward with this conversation.” Dumbledore had said, staring at Lily in a way that made her want to hide away, “may I sit?” 

“Of course, of course…” James said, gesturing to the red accent chair that sat across from the sofa.  He tugged at his hair, turning around to take a seat next to Lily, giving her a wide - encouraging smile. 

Dumbledore had settled into his chair, carefully crossing his legs at the ankles while he looked between James and Lily, seemingly trying to find the best way to relay his news. 

Lily was not in the mood for pleasantries, did not have the patience to beat around the bush. “What is it?” She spat out - unwilling to care about just how rude she sounded at that moment. 

“Lily, if I may ask. Do you know yet if you are having a son or a daughter?” Dumbledore began, gazing at the bulge in her stomach. 

Her hand instinctively moved to her bump, hoping to feel her child kick her, to ground her. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” James asked quickly, his leg beginning to bounce.

“It brings me great sadness to have to bear this to the both of you. I understand how much joy is in your lives - expecting a child right now.” Dumbledore paused, and Lily tensed, a distinct feeling of cotton filling her mouth. “But I’m afraid a prophecy has been made. And I take great stock in believing it to be true.” 

Confusion seeped into the room then, Lily fighting hard to understand what a prophecy would have to do with her baby.

“A prophecy Professor?” 

“I met with a woman whom I now believe to possess the sight. I was contemplating hiring her for the divination position at Hogwarts, and to be quite honest I had a bit of a hard time believing her at first.” He paused, taking a deep breath and meeting Lily’s eyes. “But she stunned me as she had a vision then. A prophecy that declared a child would be the one to defeat the dark lord.” 

She couldn’t think then, she couldn’t breath. “And you think that is my child then?”  

James sighed next to her, leaning forward, his elbows resting against his knees and burying his head into the palms of his hands. “What do you mean?” He asked, “some crackpot wannabe seer makes a prediction and you assume it’s our child?” 

“I understand this is quite hard to believe. But there are a few specifications that lead me to believe the prophecy is about your son. Yes.” 

The room suddenly became very hot, and an unbearable weight settled into Lily’s chest. “We don’t know if I’m having a boy.”

Dumbledore chose to ignore that, powering forward with the words that would forever alter the lives of James and Lily Potter. “The prophecy spoke of a boy, born as the seventh month dies, to parents who have thrice defied Voldemort.” 

James sprung into action then, standing up as he spat out. “So you believe this then? Some woman tells you that Voldemort is going after a child and you come into my home…. You tell my pregnant wife that it’s our baby Voldemort is after?” 

Any other time Lily would have pulled James back down, rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. Now was not that moment. She kept her hand on her bump, warm tears spilling from her eyes. 

“James, please.” Dumbledore began, and James walked toward the fireplace, setting his hand on top of the mantle, the muscles in his back tense in anger. 

Lily cleared her throat then, shaking her head. “It’s not a boy.” 

“Lily. I am deeply sorry I have to tell you this. It seems that Voldemort knows about the prophecy, he has chosen to believe that the child you carry will defeat him. Voldemort has marked your child.” 

The room filled with silence, and Lily was at a loss - knowing only that she would do whatever it took to keep her baby safe. 

“How?” She asked suddenly, “how does he know?” 

If the prophecy had only been spoken to Dumbledore, then how could Voldemort have heard it? 

James turned around then, his ears tinged red, his face contorted into uncontrollable rage. “How does he know? How does he know that Lily is even pregnant?” 

“It seems that I was not the only one who heard the prophecy being made.” Dumbledore took a deep breath, knowing full well the implications of his next words. “Severus Snape was standing at the door. Listening. He relayed the information to Voldemort.” 

The deafening silence that followed this admission, was broken the the slam of a fist into the plastered wall, and a pained groan escaping Lily. 

She stumbled back, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. “No… no that can’t be you are wrong!” She shouted at her headmaster. “Severus… he would… oh… oh my god.” 

James raced towards his wife, cradling her now broken fingers in the palm of his hand - taking deep, long breaths hoping she would mimic him. “Lil. Lily, love, sit down.” 

He led Lily back to the sofa, sitting beside her as he pulled out his wand. Delicately touching the tip to her bleeding knuckles and listening to her horrified gasp as her bones snapped back into place. 

“We must talk about the next steps.” Dumbledore began, “I suggest you two go into hiding. Tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Lily asked, her voice weak and defeated. 

“There is a safe house. In Godric’s Hollow.”

James and Lily looked at each other, neither knowing what to say or how to proceed. 

“Alastor is there now, putting up wards. He’ll be here within an hour to escort you.” 

“We are leaving our home? Tonight?” James asked, grasping tightly to Lily’s undamaged hand. 

“I will be by in the morning. To go over the details of hiding. Pack what you can now.” Dumbledore said, standing up and bowing his head. 

“I implore you to remember there is a spy in the Order. And I urge you to be sparse with the details you share.” He turned to look at Lily, giving her the faintest of smiles - an act of ill-perceived comfort. “Lily. Nobody must know when you deliver the child. There is a witch in Godric’s Hollow - a midwife, she will help you with delivery.” He stepped towards the fireplace, “you must not leave your home. All of your duties for the Order will be forgotten for the time being. Your priority now is to hide. Do you both understand?”

Lily could only nod, her vision obscured by the tears that now seemed endless. 

“Professor. Wait!” James began - but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“I am deeply sorry to both of you. I will see you in the morning.” And with that he threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, and disappeared. Leaving a distraught James and Lily in his wake. 

“It’s not a boy.” She said, so fierce she almost believed it herself. 

“Oh Lily,” James whispered, enveloping her into his arms. Hot tears flowed freely down his face, his wife pressing her nose into his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair, reaching his hand around her waist, holding the child in her belly. For the first time, James could not reassure his wife that all would be well.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Days of Potters

[mythgrippa-blog]

Envious Encryption

A day or two ago, while I was on my way somewhere I bumped into with one of friends who was with his girlfriend, it was the first time I've seen her and despite that it already felt like I knew everything about her. I'm happy for the guy, they look perfect together and its obvious that he's very happy.

Seeing them together, seeing her specifically triggered something in me, I didn't realize until the next day when I saw him again when he said hi to me. He wasn't with his girlfriend but when I triedto remember what she looked like I couldn't help but think of another person I really cared about, someone who used to make me as happy. I've been feeling particularly lonely and lataely it feels everyone around me has someone except for me.

However, I thought I was okay with that, but it turns based from the jealousy I'm feeling that I still want something of my own. Envy, who would have thunk?

Envy, is a lot like encryption in the sense that it hides a lot of complex emotions, disguising itself as ambition, admiration or happiness but instead its something that slowly eating away from your vary soul. We encrypt our true feelings only for them to get decrypted by some random girl who looked like a person you knew.

Well yeah... thats it actually, I am just going to try and study or something, because I've been really letting these emotions devour my core being.

I'm really trying... at least I'm not giving into my addiction, instead I'm adeep in this game

Itchio has a lot of free random games, so that keeps me occupied for a while, well I think thats all from me. Thanks for reading, btw my project is about to end which is why you pro bably started reading but yeah.

The website, I wanted to add the Orcust system but the project doesn't seem to need any more features just bug fixes and preparing our presentation.

I did make a prototype of the Orcust system, it simply takes uploaded code and dockerizes it, it took longer than expected like 6ish hours to make a python script that properly does that. The docker library wasn't reliable at running newly created containers or images, so I made use of the commands.

I'll probably make the Orcust system a separate open source project. For quick and easy deployment of files. The way it works is that the uploaded script is suppsoed to have an endpoint open that the manager will expose and map to the host computer/server. The one issue I faced with this is that the containers would weigh about 150mb per container, so a 1000 containers would be 150gb of storage and then processing power for each container. Hosting this would be very expensive, maybe there are inexpensive options or secret ways of optimizing containers or images or perhaps docker optimizes loads of running containers. Not too sure but that was the issue. But the issue should have been an obvious flaw of using containers, I can't help but feel stupid haha maybe I should just ditch it. It won't be in the final project nor do I think anyone would be able to run this expensive library.

Well I suppose thats life, you live and you learn. Let me post the project now to github and I'll see it later.

Well yeah thats pretty much all of the update. Actually let me talk more about personal life, I've been talking with my friends more so thats something. I have a fear of being replaced, so seeing them hang out with others does break my heart a tad however thats okay because I can't always be there so it makes sense to hang with those you hand with and there's nothing really special about me anyway.

I've been listening to a lot of traumacore type music, like Mitsiki and junk before I sleep, its almost as if I want to hurt myself mentally. Told my best friend we have to talk in a couple of weeks, she said she's scared and I don't blame her, what could this be about? I just want to share myself one more time, like really share everything about me and see if she'd still want to call me her best friend. Like am I still worthy?

[words-of-a-venus]

When your name is read, said, or written, a lot of different emotions flutter around below my ribcage. Rather, I suppose, there are placeholders for those emotions. Bookmarks. I used to look at you and feel everything on the emotional spectrum: all-consuming love, hope, confusion, anger, sadness, resentment. Those feelings are already so foreign and far away to me. I think it's the manner in which you left me. Why shouldn't I disconnect my emotions from someone who found it so easy to leave me? It doesn't matter; right now, I'm being told to write about the anger. Thanks, Sara.

We started off in an absolute whirlwind, our love tinted by rose-colored glasses and peachy Florida sunsets. Like fire and gasoline there was an instant, momentous connection. You waxed eloquent to me, and you did it so effortlessly. You assured me that our love was forever, holding my face in your hands just as gently as you promised you'd hold my heart. From the moment I saw you, it felt as if I'd known you forever. I knew I'd want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out. That is, until you stopped wanting to know me.

I could see the fear building inside of you before we even left for Louisiana. To be honest, you probably should have broken up with me when you said you were going to. It was the day I'd gone to Disney with my best friends. I know that's when you really, really wanted to. Even with your reassurance, I could hear the hesitation underneath your words, hushed like a child that should remain silent. We had our going away party and while everyone celebrated and enjoyed the night, lighting joints and sipping caipirinhas, I knew you far too well not to notice the screaming that you'd stifled inside your head. I could hear it, silently and telepathically, from a mile way.

You were terrified to the core, and moving away was the last thing you wanted to do. The only feeling that measured up was your fear of losing me. Maybe I should've said something, pressed you more. But time and time again, you convinced me that - against all odds - you wanted to make it work. I think, instead, you were actually trying to convince yourself. Regardless, it doesn't matter how much you "want" to do something when "want" is just a word for you. It didn't hold any weight, any action, any movement. It wasn't a verb. It was a cold, lifeless word.

I knew on the drive up here that we weren't going to make it, though I pushed that thought as far down as I could. It was a nagging, shrill voice hiding in the back of my skull. You were trite and lifeless the entire journey. You didn't attempt to have fun, or make the most our trip. It was a long, tiring drive. I had a restless cat in my backseat and had never left home before (that is, for any distance farther than two hours from my parents). Still, I was prepared to laugh and smile through any obstacle because you were at my side. I wanted to soak in every second of a new adventure together. It was an adventure that I knew would take place somewhere we wouldn't be in forever, but I was ready to do it with you. You, on the other hand, were as cold as ice our entire stay at the AirBNB. You barely spoke to me, and the air felt heavy and stiff. I moved through it like molasses, my words catching in the air. I felt as if I'd walked into the life of a man I didn't know.

We lived together for only seven months after that. I know that I had pushed you away in some forms. I love hard - selflessly, deeply, and with all of my being - almost to a fault; sometimes that means I feel every other emotion at no less than 100%. For that I am sorry - I know that being with someone who is constantly and consistently at a ten, regardless of where on the spectrum, must be tiring at times. But I never pushed you away from a lack of loving you. All I ever wanted was a partner that was willing to work through any and every obstacle. Even then, it seemed that with every challenge we faced, you only pushed me further and further from you. You say you tried, but I rarely saw it. I never felt it. Inside me lived this gnawing, miserable feeling that you lived with one foot out the door. And I guess, emotionally, you always were.

Despite my - far apart, yet regular - emotional breakdowns, I tried to do and be everything for you. You're lonely? I'll find you some friends, invite you to parties and work events so you can mingle and connect. You won't plan dates for us, or put any effort into trying to enjoy the town we'd moved to? I'll find fun activities and events. I'll plan nights around things that I know make you truly happy. I'll shower you with words of adoration, praise, and all of my affection. I'll leave sweet little notes around the house for you to find. I'll make you your favorite comfort foods. I'll surprise you with snacks. I'll find fun games that can bring us closer together and help our bond to grow stronger. I'll even suggest that if you're homesick, you go home a month or so at a time until our lease ends, just so you can be around the people that you need. I even went so far as to promise you that we would go home together after our brief stint here; I was prepared to completely shift my career goalpost, all in the effort to make you happy. I'd have done anything to make it through. But it wasn't enough. To you, one of my downfalls was that I didn't always dust. I left one too many dishes in the sink. My bad.

Anger is an emotion I'm familiar with, but am disconnected from now. She's a family member that I know exists, but she doesn't play a role in my life anymore. Still, I know what she looks like, and what she hated:

All you ever did was whine and complain, focusing on impending and inevitable dread. No moment held sunshine, and if it did, you couldn't bask in it. It peaked out from behind the clouds, only to slip into hiding once more. Look at the black sky, focus on it. Rain is coming. Rain was always coming.

You were closed minded. I don't care what you say, or how much you try to convince me that you weren't. Disapproving of all abrahamic religions, denouncing that faith has any sort of benefit to anyone, is closed minded. Maybe you were wary of the paranormal towards the end, but I think maybe I'd rubbed off on you. I imagine you're set back in your ways.

You always had to be right, even about pettiest things. Everything you were correct about boosted your ego, like a fifth grader getting gold stars. If it couldn't be proven, seen, or quantified, you wanted no part of it. If someone disagreed, your phone was unsheathed from your pocket within a millisecond, ready to fact check something so insignificant. Do rings in trees actually signify their age? Do male octopi have one tentacle that is shorter than the others? It didn't matter the topic, you were going to find out. If the other person was wrong? Heh. You were right, you always knew it. If they were right? Well, let's move on.

You didn't pick up a single thing around the house, which I know now is a gripe you had with me. I'd come home to sinks full of dishes, an unmade bed, sweatshirts and shoes strewn about. You helped me only when you saw me start a task, as if you were coming to the rescue, making my life so much easier. Here's a hard truth: men aren't making your lives easier, unless they were first making it harder.

You were always late. Both times to the airport, you were late by at least an hour. Leaving the house for events, wanting to go somewhere. Late. I think the incidents with the airport infuriated me the most, though I brushed it off at the time because y'know what? I loved you, and when you love someone you pick your battles. It's what you do. But after hours of being in a cramped plane with strangers, the last thing you want to do is stick around a cramped airport with more strangers.

Everything was a chore for you, even the fun things. Headaches, stomach aches, sore feet, sore everything. Nothing could happen without some sort of gripe. The weather, how long the days were (that you didn't plan, especially not toward the end). Why couldn't you just bask in the happiness I tried to share with you? Why was that too much to ask?

Physical intimacy was a mess.

To be honest, I'm glad you're gone. The growth and progress I've made without you could never have been achieved with you by my side. Your aura, your very being, began to ooze a negativity that was black and palpable. Your version of homeostasis was miserable - it almost made me feel guilty if I didn't live my life in as much misery as you. As if my joy was salt in your wound. Fuck that. I have a lot to work on, and a lot of the life that I live within my head has yet to line up with the moral character I exude, but I'm getting there. Slowly. I'm learning. I know without a doubt that my life will - to the best of my ability; I am only human, after all - be lived with light and love first. I am a being of hope, and I find joy in the smallest of things now. Unapologetically, I've begun to embrace childlike wonder again. No one can take that from me. Especially not you.

I don't hate you. I hate the way you gave up on me. Your hallmark, or so you claimed, was open and honest communication. You never truly gave me that. I begged you to let me in; I tried to dig to your core for months. All I ever wanted was to break past the dam that you had built around yourself. I didn't care that I'd drown in the floods, I wanted that. I wanted for you to fall into me and say, "look, here I am. vulnerable, with all of my mess. here you are with yours. let's grow and clean them up, together". Despite it all, you were a rose I was prepared to bleed for. I'd have moved mountains for you. I'd have gathered all of the stars and made them into crowns and glittering jewelry if you'd asked me to. If you had shown any indication that you were ready to work together, I'd have poured my heart out to you. Instead, you walked out on me. You did it with ease, and never looked back.

Fuck you for taking the dog.

2/9/23.

[foxtwink]

i think one reason why i love reading so much, especially poetry and prose, is the depth of emotion i can feel without any real risk to myself. a book is a guided tour, a multicourse gourmet meal you can trust the dedicated chef to deliberately prepare. a book is the drop of a roller coaster: the incarnate knowledge of safety and unreality, despite my suspension of disbelief, despite my inherent fear in the moment. so when i hurt i pick up a book and I try to follow the characters without writing myself into them. but somewhere along the way minds meld together- like smoking weld, two perspectives becoming one. two shards of sharp metal that hurt each other and melt each other and dissolve each other, absolve each other; two corrosive chemicals mixing in a thermal reaction (and a cloud of smoke). i blink and suddenly i am here in a world where you alternate between yourself and a shadow of a character written by some meditation/crystal go-getter in a plush couch.

you know, if you love someone so fiercely that becoming anything more would kill you, you'd rather not love at all. that's me. and if you've lived your whole life destroying things (yourself and others), then one day you start choosing the being alone over the everyone else. that's you. i've been burned so many times by so many different things (the sun and the stars in your eyes). my aversion to fire is strong but not as wildly magnetic as my attraction. you know, my best friend loves the water. as a child, she used to throw herself into open water, into pools and lakes. you know, there was a girl at my elementary school who threw herself off the very top roof of our play structure because she believed so confidently that she could fly. she even tried to convince us all that we could too. they had to call an ambulance. you know, one time asa a child i believed i could tumble, so fiercely that i launched into a flip knowing nothing. i landed on my face, smashed my skull into a corner table, and bled.

i don't know what these things mean; we are deluded and desperate. i don't know what it means when i keep making excuses to see you, refusing to look directly into the desire. see, you are not something i allow myself to explore too closely. like a tantalizing alley, like the twisted dark corridors of an abandoned building. you are dangerous and you are on fire and you are the slowest beating heart i have ever met. you are the glassy surface before a riptide, the great ocean shielding its deep mysteries below. i breathe, exist, simply be within the space. i don't jump down the crumbling walls of empty shafts, don't lay on eons-old furniture and stomp like a rowdy paranoid group of teenagers; don't poke my head inside the doors of musty shops and around corners of heavy shadows. i don't dare swim out into the waves, don't allow them to crash over my face; i don't learn to dive, don't set off with headlamps and harpoons. but i can't stop myself continuing to come back to you, over and over. like those infinite drives to the beach, or the heady smell of pines in the Santa Cruz mountains, over and over again in my mind. some unstoppable will, some hidden knowledge that i am inherently closer to what i seek when i'm around you. can't help the thought that you are mine, that i don't wanna share you, in the ways that an expert carefully guards their secret methodologies. like a particularly whimsical forest clearing, or a hotspot in the sea filled with rainbow fish. you make me feel like running in the rain, or in the dark. breathless, calamitous calm. the soft embrace of a dangerous thing trusting you, of settling dusk upon your shoulders. the ease of putting your bare hands inside the mouth of a malinois dog.

in many ways i return to you with my guards and filters the way i return to all the places that are not mine. like sitting on the beach, watching dolphins leap and spin just a few meters offshore. or the abandoned insane asylum, how i keep refusing to return without proper masks and gloves. there is even a certain apathy in my will to go back to santa cruz and see old friends, to ruin magical memories with fresher, more mundane ones. i know i could put in a little more effort, learn to take the bart and find my way to someplace that feels like a home. instead i watch and allow two threads that crossed to uncross, yanking at the loose end of a bracelet and finding the whole thing built out of slipknots. i watch crumbling history that no one cares about, stand with my feet on the earth and inherently hear the voices of the people, the trees, the wide open sky. i ask if you have work, but i don't ask if you need to go home because i know the ways we are: dancing around each other. an ocean and a wildfire, afraid to touch, afraid to extinguish. i don't know if i'm afraid even just to see you. these days, i don't know anything.

but some nights the last thing on my mind is how severely i shove away the hope of it all. the uncertainty, the doubt, the contained possibilities within an "i don't know." we never want to find out, so you spare me. because you don't want to hurt me, or because you don't want to hurt yourself. and i know you're right; i've been burned a few times. somebody like me, we don't get so close to the sparks and expect to come away clean. when i angle grind i lean my face over the piece, watching with precision while i guide my hands. i feel the sparks prick my face, my arms; i feel them stab and burn even as i stare in meditative stupor at their beauty. but those are sparks, and these? these are fireworks. these are bombs. it's true, i'm very safe in a lab; but i have never stopped a fire. when i play with my lighter you take it away. and the one in a million chance that we can set off something brilliant vanishes over the horizon with all our fears.

[running-with-kn1ves]

A/N: Hello! Due to popular demand I decided to write a continuation to The Masked Intruder fic ! I really enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any grammar problems, I'm a bit under the weather :> btw you dont really need to read the OG in order to read this. I'll get to notes soon😭

TW:yandere themes, obsessiveness, stalking, (past) breaking and entering,

Synopsis: you've grown accustomed to the man hanging out in your walls, but it appears his clinginess does not rest even well into the night. 

word count: 2000

It was nearly three in the morning when you finally decided to get up. You had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, too stubborn to go on your phone out of fear that you'd become even more awake. But you finally caved when you heard the wall across from you begin thumping. It gave a muffled noise of exasperation.

Letting out a small sigh, you got up from the tangle of hot bedsheets and blankets. You were on the verge of sweating from rolling around so much; it was difficult to find the right spot when you were so fidgety. Your back cracked as you got up, making you feel even more alert. But though your brain was active, your body was slow to move. Each leg felt like a weight dragging you down, your pajamas suffocating you as they made you feel ten times warmer.

Blindly you searched for the door with your hands. From muscle memory you knew it was somewhere nearby; it clearly was from how it smacked you in the face. You let out a pained groan, grabbing the door slowly to open it.

You followed the glow of the moon in your kitchen window and the green flickering light of the stove. It read 3:03, flashing as if it mocked your restlessness. You traveled over to the fridge sluggishly; small thumps could be heard from behind the wall as they moved at the same pace.

But the sound didn't terrify you. Not as much as it did before, at least. It was still eerie and unnatural to hear something so close and purposeful, but you knew where it came from now. Or rather 'who' it came from.

Pulling out the milk from the fridge you headed to the cabinets, two bowls and two spoons waiting there perfectly for you. You grabbed them apathetically, not fretting the screech the sliding glass made against the cupboard. After all there was no one it would disturb-- the only other person in the house was already awake with you.

You grabbed the box of cereal on the way to the table and prepared to make your feast.

Pouring the cereal you tried your best not to spill too much, despite your tiring hand. You were doing quite well avoiding the small crunchy pieces from spilling, until a figure appeared at your heels. Its noise was silent to you, your brain on autopilot without paying attention to the rustling from behind.

The dark figure moved closer, now mere inches away. Its hands reached out for you and wrapped themselves around your stomach. You jolted out of surprise and panic, the cereal spilling on the table. The arms squished you protectively as the person's chest crushed your back. His sudden weight on you pushed you against the table. You nearly let out a squeak from fear.

Setting the cereal box down you sighed out of relief, recognizing the man's dusty smell.

"Dont scare me like that," you firmly uttered. 

He was just as bad as your first encounter, when he snuck up on you. It was a really bad habit you hoped he'd stop soon, lest you have a heart attack. Small particles of dust fluffed off of him as his arms pressed against you.

"…Sorry…" his small, croaky voice whispered into your ear. From the cold skin of his cheek on yours, you didn't have to guess that his mask was removed. He only ever took it off when he thought you couldnt see him, or in the dark.

You've managed to memorize some of his patterns by now, the few weeks you've spent with him showing his predictable traits.

It's been a learning process for you in trying to cope with the fact that there's a man living in your walls. You decided that no one would ever believe you anyway, unless you tore every wall from its place. So, you're coping. Trying to.

Dealing with it like an average, healthy person would, by letting him stay. A part of you felt like it was a bad idea, especially from how clingy he was slowly becoming. But, it's not like he'd ever hurt you right? He was far too timid, almost… sweet. But it was hard to say that outloud without sounding like a crazy person. Yet, he wasn't violent or creepy. He tried to give you privacy---at least he said he did. And you only caught him spying on you in the shower once!

You just assumed he needed some training. After all, you had no idea how much he understood when it came to formalities or privacy. He had been creeping on people for years, of course he wasnt clear on common boundaries. So, you were fine with excusing some things. Even if those things were him taking your dirty clothes and trying to cut pieces of your hair from time to time. They were the little things, the little things that reminded him of you when you were out shopping or working. But to you they were just pet peeves.

Not to mention, your bed felt a lot smaller as of late. He'd never be there in the morning, but from time to time you'd feel a presence behind you, scared fingers tracing lines on your back.

Just like now; those same fingers were tracing circles on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

"Go back to bed." You sleepily muttered. Though you knew the answer he would give.

"Can't sleep." He groaned, giving a small whiff to the nape of your neck.

"you're so touchy."

You finished pouring cereal in the two bowls.

"Okay…"

He ignored your orders and gave a small lick to your ear.

The man reminded you of a cat, an animal that lingered and clinged at the most inconvenient of times. But as you poured the milk to your cereal, a question popped into your head.

"So… I still haven't figured out what to call you." You mumbled.

"Anything. " He replied quickly.The unmasked mans hands started creeping against your clothes, massaging your skin. "Anything if… it's you."

One hand pressed against your hip, swaying you closer against him and harder against the table.

"Well then how do you feel about…Mr. fluffy?"

He scrunched his face against you and clenched your loose shirt.

"No… animal name."

He smelled your hair and shook his head in disapproval. You let out a small laugh, finding joy in his sour face. He watched you prep the food with curiosity.

"Hmm alright then… What about Leo?"

The lanky male took a moment to respond, his hands freezing on your body as he stood in thought. You put the spoons into the bowls and closed up the cereal box.

"Leo.." He repeated, his hair tickling your neck as he leaned further into you. "Okay."

He let out a satisfactory groan, seemingly intrigued by the name.

"Alright then." You confirmed, taking a small bite from your bowl of food.

The man newly named as Leo gripped you as he gave an open mouthed kiss to your neck. Now that the business of his name was out of the way, he wanted to get down to his own interests. He was far too into touching you to realize that the food on the table was becoming soggy.

"come on now stop that," You gave an annoyed noise at Leo's grabbing. "Im too tired to indulge you. And 'roommates' aren't supposed--"

You turned to face him but were cut off with his mouth. He kissed the corner of your lips, his chapped ones full of desire.

"Please… please.." his voice cracked as he pulled at your shirt. "N…eed." 

You rolled your eyes and sighed; you were forced to weigh your options. In all honestly, it would be best if you gave in. If you didn't comply with what Leo wanted, he'd linger around pawing at you for the rest of the night.

Leaning in you huffed and pressed your lips against his, placing a hand on his bony shoulder. He pushed himself on you, grabbing your wrists and trapping your body against the table. It only took an inkling of consent for him to go wild.

His tongue darted against your lips as he begged for you to open your mouth. You reluctantly complied hoping he'd soon have his fill. Leo was only so confidant because you couldn't see his face, the only evidence of his healed wounds being the roughness of his broken skin on your own. His mask laid alone on the table, a symbol of his past shame and fear. Maybe he'd never let you see his face in broad daylight, but this was certainly a step up from how he reacted only mere weeks ago.

Leo dug his tongue into your mouth past your teeth. He panted against you, trying to hold back anymore noise. As he attempted to force your legs to straddle his waist, you realized you were letting him go a bit too far.

"Leo--" you breathed, trying to stop him from planting more wet kisses down your neck. "Leo stop--"

He gave a harsh suck to your jugular, only ceasing once you pried him off you. Planting two firm hands on his chest, you tried to catch your breath.

In the darkness you could hear him breathe heavily, his body shaking against your hands.

"No more." You panted.

Taking your hands off of him you wiped your mouth of saliva. Leo complied, thankfully, and let go of you. You could feel the defiance in his grip though, the strength nearly pushing back. You wondered how long it'd be until he started to stop listening to you. While steadying your breath you couldn't help but worry.

But he was still under your thumb for now, albeit he didn't seem very happy about it. He let out an upset sigh and licked his lips for any remaining taste of you.

"Its too early…for this let's just, let's eat."

You awkwardly tried to go back to what you were doing, though you knew Leo was still longing for you. His hand clenched the bottom of your shirt gently in hope you wouldn't scold him.

You took his hand and brought it to one of the bowls on the table.

"Eat." You said, taking your own seat at the table with your now mushy bowl of cereal.

The unmasked man did as you asked, meekly taking his bowl, though not quite sure what to do with it. Instead of sitting at the table, or returning to the walls, Leo began to lower himself to the ground. Scooting forward, he sat with his legs crossed over one another; holding the bowl in one hand, he used the other to wrap around your leg. You raised an eyebrow and looked to see him under the table.

"What are you doing??" Staring at him bewilderedly, you watched him scarf down the bowl of food.

"Eat." He said with his mouth full. Leo was pouring the contents into his mouth, not bothering to mess with the spoon he abandoned on the floor.

Through the moonlight you could see the milk pouring down his throat, most of the liquid missing his mouth. Besides not knowing manners, the man was unaware of how to even eat like a normal person. This was the first time he ever dared to eat in front of you; it must have been because it was dark, and he knew you wouldn't be able to see him clearly under the table. You wondered if his scars needed upkeep, wondered how he got here in the first place; but that always appeared to be a touchy subject.

Instead of prying, you went back to your own bowl of contents. Leo hung onto your leg as he drank from his bowl, holding tight to keep you planted next to him. You still felt unaware of what Leo and this house had in store for you; yet all you knew, was you wouldn't be able to get rid of them for a long time.