#if i reblog something you wrote forever ago just ignore me

[thought--bubble]

"Why do you reblog old fics?"

Because I am what you call a fic hunter, hehehe, I want a certain thing (trope, character ect) and like the creep I am, I hunt it down.

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

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He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration.  The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing.  Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn.  He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes.  You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other.  But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this. 

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you? 

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner. 

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip. 

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup." 

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt." 

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up. 

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you? 

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact. 

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling. 

"There, all better?" He smirked. 

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him. 

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?" 

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too." 

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull. 

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right." 

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.  

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way.  The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face. 

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak. 

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you. 

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke. 

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you." 

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?" 

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes. 

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress. 

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him. 

"Come here." 

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.  

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying. 

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him. 

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word. 

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."  He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper. 

"Terrified, actually." He admitted. 

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know." 

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though." 

"Hmmm?" You hummed. 

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him. 

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you. 

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon. 

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful. 

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one. 

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now. 

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face. 

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later. 

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple." 

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face. 

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him. 

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks. 

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all." 

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap. 

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head. 

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's. 

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face. 

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up. 

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read. 

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully. 

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face. 

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you. 

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region." 

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?" 

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one. 

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day." 

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently. 

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.   

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party. 

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow. 

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him. 

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them. 

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him. 

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict. 

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.  

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet. 

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?" 

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose. 

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically. 

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner." 

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like. 

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted. 

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that. 

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed. 

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word. 

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?" 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I." 

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible." 

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk. 

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?" 

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon." 

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen." 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid." 

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago." 

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels." 

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?" 

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me." 

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon." 

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile. 

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here. 

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through. 

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell. 

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed. 

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?" 

"Just taking a moment."  You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment. 

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage." 

"Hmm?" You hummed. 

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security." 

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration. 

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him. 

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?" 

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss. 

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said. 

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you. 

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently. 

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over. 

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time." 

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.  

Read Part VI here

[carrotmakar]

here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @harrysclementines​ for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon​ for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

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*

Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes. 

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him. 

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders. 

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out. 

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air. 

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

*

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them,  constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil. 

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

*

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen. 

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach. 

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.” 

“Why?” 

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

*

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

*

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?” 

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow. 

*

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song. 

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room. 

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior. 

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet. 

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

*

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. 

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

*

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you. 

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.” 

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

*

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months. 

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.” 

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

*

[ilovebokutokoutaro]

Faded

Langa x reader

Warnings : self harm, mental abuse, physical abuse, crying, screaming, abandoning, depression, blood and angst and angst, not proofread.

Overview : Angst.

When your boyfriend, langa, left for japan, you knew you'd be lonely. They were your only family, you had no one except them, his father's death had hit you so hard you could kill yourself but you had to stay strong for langa. Living alone with no one by your side soon became a routine, the routine you had before you met langa, his family, they loved you.

Your father was straight up a drunkard and your mother, let's just say she opened legs for other men more than she opened her arms for you to hug or if she ever did.

You couldn't leave to stay with langa and his family, when your parents fought, resulting with you lying in your room after being hit by them, they needed to let their anger out and who was the best to blame except you? You were the reason they were both like this, they had said, hitting you over and over untill they calmed themselves down.

Your friends were worried for you, not only had langa left but also you were covered in new bruises and injuries almost every other day, barely eating or talking.

Langa called daily at first but soon his calls lied from once a week to once a month before you could comprehend anything that was happening. He would tell you everything about japan, his new friend reki, how he met so many people who skated so amazingly it was enchanting. Maybe the network wasn't so good on his side, that must be the reason he couldn't see your eyes hanging dull, your body looked like nothing but bones and skin, all the bruises, the injuries must be not so visible with a poor network.

He loved you afterall, he'd worry too much either way so it's okay. "Oh God reki is so awesome, you know y/n" and the rest you never heard your ears ringing in pain, as much as you wanted to listen to him, it hurt. The way he ignored all your well being and focused on some strangers he had met just a few months ago. it hurt so much but you couldn't speak it out, so you chose to end the call abruptly.

Sobbing into your knees, you sat on the bed feeling ever so lonely, you were starting to question everything and anything. Why were you even alive at this point, if only you died somehow. Soon it became a routine, crying till you passed out for an hour or so then getting up to go to school.

Your social media had died down to nothing, your life had died down to nothing. You were so tired of everything at this point, a murdered would stab you with a knife and you'd thank him for it. Soon langa's facetimes turned into voicecalls after your abrupt ending of the call.

You'd still receive calls from his mother but you barely picked them anymore, to say she was worried was an understatement. But langa was so busy, so happy with his life she couldn't get to tell him how worried she was for you.

you had started deeming yourself unworthy of living, of being with anyone, the mental and physical abuse from your parents only worsening to the point you couldn't breathe straight. You had switched to self harm as a coping method sooner than you had thought.

Not long before suicidal thoughts picked at your brain all the time, you were starting to fail classes, anyone could see how miserable you were, but no one ever cared enough to talk to you, or so you said, pushing everyone out.

It's been weeks since you last talked to langa, since you last went to school, choosing to burry yourself in your room instead. You parents were happier than ever, there abuse starting to get negligible, they weren't even near you anymore. your mother being pregnant with another child from your father. They were ecstatic, but you were not a part of it, the celebration stayed between them and their friends, tho your parents had started treating you better.

You found yourself falling deeper the more you struggled, your mental health declining to the point you were starting to loose all hopes in yourself. Your hate for others soon turned to hate for yourself and your self harm increased, many times your father would see your lying in you bedroom with bloody wrists, they were all worried for you, they stated, "go to therapy, y/n. We don't want to loose you" your mother sobbed to which you stayed there not moving. She hugged you, cried till you nodded your head. But therapy brought no good, just dragging you further down.

Langa had started getting worried sick and so was his mother, he had ranted about everything to his friends, whatever your friends told him. He wanted to talk to you even if once more, but you were fixed on isolating yourself more and more.

It was not long before you called langa, "I'm sorry, i was busy" you said, your voice was nothing more than emotionless and he begged you to tell him what was wrong but you stayed silent, his worry soon ending up with him screaming for you but you never answered. Not before he heard a loud crack and your parents screaming your name.

Langa stood frozen as he heard your parents cry and scream for you to wake up. He just wanted to pretend you were okay and alive. He was sitting in joe's restaurant, silently sipping the juice he was given as reki and shadow tried to distract him, suddenly his phone rang cutting off the awkward silence, and his mother told him to stay wherever he was and that she was coming to pick him up.

He just wanted to pretend you were okay, but it all came shattering down as his mother banged the door open, her face stained with tears as she fell on her knees sobbing and crying about how you had hanged yourself the day you called him, everyone remained silent, langa only sitting there not moving a muscle, oh God he wished he had stayed with you just a bit longer, called you a bit often, asked you if you were okay, he was selfish so selfish, if only he had noticed everything before maybe just maybe you would be talking to him rn.

Reki and shadow tried to comfort his mother who was now sobbing on the ground while langa just sat there frozen. He never thought a little lack of his concern could drive you to killing yourself. He wanted to blame someone and as much as he hated it he was the only right choice he found. Langa's phone pinged, a message from your mother's number. A page, stained with blood and tears, coming in his sight.

He saw your beautiful handwriting turn into nothing but a mess,

"I'm sorry, i love you i swear i do. But it was so hard living like this langa, there was no one, no one. I was so lonely so lonely, i thought cutting myself would do me any good, but it only drove me into more hunger for blood, and soon i wanted more than the stinging pain against my skin. I wanted to kill myself before i even knew it, you looked so happy when you called me that time. Stay smiling like that for me forever won't you? I'm sorry again langa i love you."

The letter was so abrupt as if you were in a hurry, as if you were dying. And he started sobbing before he knew it, surprising not only himself but everyone around him. His mother only teared up more she saw him crying. Cherry and joe desperately trying to calm the mother and son down.

It was a mess, the mess you left behind for them to handle, the mess you were going through all alone now cut short and stuck to everyone who loved you. Maybe if they all noticed sooner you'd have been here. Maybe just maybe if they told you they loved you sooner you would've been here.

..........

A/n: hey, so uhm idk i just wrote this in a flow. Just know if you, or someone you know is going through Something you can always seek help or go try to help someone, nothing you'd say to a depressed person would ever be meaningless, maybe your kindness saves a soul. Hope you all are doing fine hahhaha. Lot of angst for a day whew.

Anyway, thank you for reading���🥰🥰. Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥺☺️💜

[btsrunmylife]

fic author self-rec tag game

when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written/fics you’re most proud of, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 💗

thank you for the tag @jktones 🥺💜 

This was actually a lot harder than I thought it would be. Not because I love everything I’ve written, but because I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with a lot of my works right now 😬 Anyway, here are some of my favorites!

-ˏˋ. Call Me Naïve ˊˎ-

Truthfully, I think I’ll always be living in the shadows of this story. I poured so much time and effort into this one and it was one of my best writing experiences to date. I’d been sitting with the idea for so long that when it came time to write it, it was easy. I kept the readers guessing, which was a lot of fun. t’s my favorite thing I’ve written to date and it makes me so happy whenever I see people noticing it for the first time. It’s also my story with the most notes to date, which speaks volumes to how well it was received. *sighs* Yeah, I just really loved everything about this one. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to write something like it again...

-ˏˋ. Gasoline ˊˎ-

This was my first (and only) one I’ve written for a collab. It was such a fun experience and it only took me about a week to plan out from beginning to end, even though it took me about two months to write and edit. But playing off the 2022 Season’s Greetings was so much fun! They really did set us fic writers up for interesting plot lines. The possibilities were endless...and I still think I have a few ideas up my sleeve if I ever decide to continue it... 👀

-ˏˋ. Cooking Class ˊˎ-

Ah, the one I constantly forget I actually wrote until people randomly start liking/reblogging again. I remember being so proud of this one when I first posted it, entirely inspired and enamored by ITS!Yoongi 🥺 It was my first time writing about him and I had a lot of fun fine-tuning his characterization. I still adore this story and its sequel The Date. It just feels like I wrote them eons ago already...

-ˏˋ. The Comfort Drabbles ˊˎ-

How could I not include this?!?! It’s not a fic, per se, but rather a collection of drabbles, where I aim to comfort the reader with a little scene of one of the members (or all of them). It’s, admittedly, challenged me at times, but I’ve always been the type to get excited over writing challenges. I always try my best, even though I fear I’m not always successful in knowing what people need to hear. My aim, regardless, is to create a safe and comforting space for the duration of the read. I hope I’ve at least accomplished that...

-ˏˋ. He is Love ˊˎ-

My baby. My first love. My heart, my soul. All rolled into one fic. Honestly, this was my very first fic on here and it will always be one of my favorites. I poured so much into this story because it was one that had been begging to be written for over a year before I decided to turn it into a Jungkook fic. The moment I did that, all of the pieces started to fall into place. I’ll never get over that. I was stuck on it, as an original fiction work, for so long and then BAM. It was done. I love it, I love the characters and the amount of healing/comfort that is in this fic. And I just...am infinitely proud of it. Forever and always.

I’m not sure who’s done this or who’s already been tagged, so please forgive me if you have been! Feel free to ignore as well! If anyone who I don’t tag sees this and would like to participate, feel free to!! I love hearing about people’s works! 💜

I’m tagging: @nabiolive @honeytae @myooniverse @sopebubbles @sor-vette​ @delacyrose224​ @sketchguk​ @bonvoyagenoona​ 

[bakugohoex]

Could I request a jean and s/o birthday thingy my birthday is in a few days and since we're in a lockdown again I can't see my family I read a lot of your writings and they're all awesome it would really make me happy if you could write one for me 🙈

“happy birthday, baby”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: modern AU, fluff, implied nsfw and just pure love

word count: 1600+

a/n: happy birthday to you, hope this request can bring some sort of comfort through lockdown, it’s all a mess right now and lockdown has really fucked us over. this is also an emergency request as it’s a birthday one so i thought i’d do this one now and continue on with my normal request order tomorrow

summary: in which it’s your birthday and jean spends the day celebrating with you

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

This man spends the whole night preparing the living room of your apartment

He will literally sneak out from your shared bed leaving a pillow for you to cuddle and start getting everything from his car.

Lockdown had hit you once again and you were unable to celebrate with your family.

Baby had seen how sad you had looked on the phone with your parents and had begun planning everything from there.

Ordering so much crap and making sure it came the next day, he had to usher you to go on a designated walk whilst he shoved everything into his car.

This boy takes multiple trips in the cold with a mask and hoodie on bringing everything up.

So fucking sweet right.

He even has a cake, which he got icing for and wrote happy birthday Y/n.

Be warned the cake looks shit with the red icing.

A horror scene but he tried.

Balloons every fucking where.

He literally had streamers and balloons with your age on them.

This man is too good (how is reader getting so much shit for their birthday and i had to spend mine at home).

He had everything set up for the day, calling your family to set up a call the next day at the designated time.

This man has it all sorted, the pancakes for the morning, the presents for you, hidden behind the sofa and the special dinner he was going to make for you.

This man is just too good for his own good.

Ofc at the end of the day, he’ll treat himself to some dessert and make you feel so fucking loved.

This man would fuck you so good, like baby boy take a chill pill or you’ll get her pregnant.

He don’t care (breeding kink?).

The sound of muttering made you wake up, the early morning sun hit your face but even then, it was cloudy and cold since January was a cold month. You grabbed the other side waiting to see your boyfriend Jean, but he wasn’t there. A soft yawn coming from your face, you checked your phone seeing the gazillion messages, smiling at all the messages.

You got up, wearing Jean’s shirt that warmed you up a lot more than you had expected. Moving to the bathroom, just as you walked back out Jean noticed you about to move into the living space, “woah, woah, woah, where are you going? Get back into the room.”

Jean had pushed you back into the room, “happy birthday Y/n, yeah...have an amazing day, love you.” You mocked after he had dismissed you back into the room.

Hearing shuffling outside, the doors opened, and Jean came in with the pancakes, “happy birthday, baby.” You smiled seeing him with an apron on and a plate of two pancakes.

“Thank you.” You spoke gleefully moving towards him, you kissed his lips softly, tasting the sugar knowing he probably had some out of hunger.

Sitting you on the bed he let you lean against his frame, putting the pancakes on your lap, “why can’t I go into the living room?”

“It’s a surprise, be patient princess.” He kissed the top of your head, you both eating and talking. It felt like a good start to the day and had already made you feel warm and less empty than you had felt the night before.

“You can’t come in until you wear your best clothes and make yourself even prettier.” He gleamed out having already showered and ready to change himself.

You sign doing as your told, it was quick, and you wore the dress Jean had said he’d liked, the long black sleeve dress covered you up and you wore tights due to the extreme weather and knowing how cold the apartment got in the afternoon.

Jean walked back seeing you, he stood in awe at the door, one hand at the top as he leaned forward admiring you, “you look beautiful, baby.”

“You’re being extra nice.” You snicker standing up and going in front of him.

“It’s your birthday, I’m supposed to be nice.” You laugh going on your tippy toes and giving him a soft peck. “Come on.”

He makes you go in front of him, his rough hands on your face covering your eyes, you directed you, making sure you didn’t bang into anything. Before finally you were both in the living room, the balloons and streamers cascaded down the walls. The gold and pinks filled with love and his emotion, “keep them closed.”

Feeling his hands leave your eyes, you kept your eyes shut but could feel the light from outside. “Okay, open them.” He had a cake in his hands, the balloons and lights being such a pretty sight. The place was filled to the brim, you felt engulphed in love and happiness and the wide smile the boy had on his face, he knew you loved it.

“You…you did this on your own.” You spoke tearily, still partially in shock at how much the boy had done for you.

“It was all to see that pretty smile.” He got the matches lightening the candle before showing the cake in full view. It really did look like a scene out of a horror film with the red hearts looking like splodges and the words being smudged, “make a wish.”

He was scared you might hate him for ruing the cake, but you grinned like a school girl who had fallen in love. Blowing out the yellow fame, you made the wish that would make you and Jean bound together forever. He smiled putting the cake down, grabbing your hand to take you to the sofa. “You have to open it in order.” You nodded as he passed the gifts, there were three in total. A small box, a much larger oddly shaped one and a rectangle shaped one, he pointed to the rectangle and you opened it.

Unwrapping the silver wrapping paper and sticking the bow on your boyfriend, his lip twitched upwards before you saw the gift. It was a frame, with the two of you in it, it was sentimental more than anything. It had been three months into your relationship, and he had invited you to his work event where you met a lot of his friends. One of them being Sasha who insisted on taking a photo for you two, it had been your favourite photo since, so candid and in love it was beautiful.

“I love it.” You cooed ready to kiss and hug him, but he stopped you.

“No hugs or kisses until the last present.” You signed rolling your eyes at the boy who passed the oddly shaped gift. You unwrapped it quicker, wanting to hug your boyfriend so much at how amazing the day was going.

You undid it to be met with a figure from your favourite anime, it was a little plushie that you had seen in town. You had sent the plushie to him months ago and here it was in your hands, he had remembered. It was amazing, beautiful even, the little hands and feet. You wanted to cry even more at what you had gotten it meant a lot that the boy had even remembered such a trivial thing like that.

He passed the final gift, his hands seemed shaky, but you ignored it thinking he was cold. After all it was still icy outside and you knew he must’ve had to hide it in his car and wake up in the early hours to even do something like this. You wrapped the last gift, the smallest of the bunch, his shirt moved due to his heavy breaths, he rubbed the sweat on his trousers from his palms. He was nervous if you’d like something like this if you’d accept a gift so personal.

You opened it, seeing a square box, you looked between the box and Jean, before opening it. Inside a gold necklace sat in the middle, the words Jean dangled in the middle. Your heart stopped, it was pretty, the diamonds on each side, the cursive lettering. It was beautiful, “I know it says my name, but there’s a reason for that.” He watched your expression, fearful you’d think him to have that big of an ego, which he did but not to you, “I know I leave on business trips for days and I want you to know I’ll always still be around you.”

His justification warmed your heart even more than the gift had originally, you passed it to the boy, moving your hair to the side. He smiled putting it around your neck before kissing your exposed shoulder. “I love it, I love you.” You whispered in his ear, you kissed him softly before he brought his arms around your waist bringing you a lot closer onto his body.

Your birthday had started out amazing, and it continued on, with a surprise family call whilst Jean made dinner, showing your gifts which your parents adored. To the meal that Jean prepared as you both sat together under multiple candles, it was romantic something you and Jean had missed out on since the first lockdown had occurred. But here you were with your favourite boy having the best birthday ever. He even washed up, letting your relax surrounded by the balloons and streamers. It really was a magical day.

Even afterwards, letting you cuddle up beside him he gave you one last present, and it was one that would make you so loved, so comforted and definitely unable to walk the next day.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens @animexholic

[onlythegentle-survive]

if i kept hiding - chapter two

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader Rating: M (nothing too explicit) Warnings:  More angst and yearning, miscommunication, a brief argument, kissing (so much kissing), implicit sexual references (I told you I’d make up for all the pain in the first half of this fic!) Word count: 5.0k words Notes: The second half of this fic! Thanks so much to everyone that’s liked, reblogged, or left comments. I also want to give a huge thank you to Iris @goldafterglow​​ for giving feedback and screaming about this fic and Ezra with me while I wrote it in two and a half sittings yesterday. No one quite understands my love for this rogue space cowboy quite like Iris does. 

Taglist: @goldafterglow​ @frannyzooey​ @absurdthirst​ @catfishingmorales​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @hopelikethesun​ @forever-rogue​ @f0rever15elf​ @thewaythisis​ @marvel-and-mischief​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @lose-eels​ @ezrasarm​ @din-damn-djarin​ @opheliaelysia​ @pajamasecrets​ @mandohatesdroids​ @poenariuniverse​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​ @fleetwoodmactshirts​​ @auty-ren​​ @profkenobi​​ @storiesofthefandomlovers​​ @ithinkwehitametaphor​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @cinewhore​​ @wille-zarr​​ @tangledlove27​​

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To your surprise, sleep did eventually end up finding you. It was a restless, interrupted sleep, but it was sleep nevertheless.

The events of the previous night followed you around like a stray storm cloud the next day. Ezra didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t say anything about it. But it was there, screaming to be spoken about. Whenever Ezra did open his mouth to speak, it was about something inconsequential.

This is why you needed to leave. This was exactly what you feared - that your feelings would become an elephant in the room that neither of you acknowledged. You remembered vaguely that Ezra had wanted to go into the village to get more supplies in a few days time. That was a perfect opportunity for you to slip out unnoticed.

Your heart stung at the thought of Ezra’s potential reactions. Would he be upset? Relieved? Indifferent?

As you went through the motions that day, Ezra’s voice was a constant stream beside you, your mind wandered. It had been bizarre, at the beginning. Not needing to wear a helmet or space suit on this planet. You were grateful for it. It made work significantly easier. It meant that you sweat more, but you weren’t weighed down by the bulk of the suit.

Ezra hardly seemed to notice you today. Chatty as usual, he seemed distant, hardly paying attention to you as the two of you worked in tandem. You were equal parts relieved and let down that he was giving you your space today. Sure, you could have made an effort, hell, you wanted to make an effort, but there was nothing adequate that came to mind.

Finished for the day, Ezra let you take the first shower. Looking into the mirror, you looked a mess. You had purple bags under your eyes, which were puffy and red from lack of sleep. They had a glazed look to them as well, a look that you only had when you were sick or exhausted. As you stepped into the warm spray of the shower, you hoped that a shower would wash away most of it.

* * *

She looked awful. Ezra knew that something was eating at her, but he still could not put a finger on it. His best guess was that she was starting to glean on to the fact that he loved her and she didn’t reciprocate, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

When he had come out of the bathroom last night, he was going to tell her how he felt, too tired of keeping it bottled in. But she had already been asleep. Though it was dark, he could see that her expression, usually soft and relaxed in sleep, was sad and pained. Ezra hated to see her this anguished. He hadn’t been thinking when he reached out to touch her face outside the bathroom, it had just happened. But the way she sighed and leaned into the touch for a moment told him that on some level, she returned his feelings.

Ezra gave her some space that day; she was clearly going through something, though what, he still had yet to decipher. Even in her melancholia, she was still lovely to be around. Always making sure he had enough, or that he wasn’t working himself too hard.

As Ezra showered, he thought, why not tell her how I feel at the market? We always have such fun there.

He had to come up with a contingency plan, in case she did not reciprocate his feelings. What to do if she turned him down? She would have to stay, of course. Ezra was not so cruel to kick someone out just because they did not share his feelings. The only time he had done that was in a moment of no other choice many years ago.

Assured in his plan, Ezra smiled to himself. This would work. But he would also try and see what was troubling her today. Maybe he could help.

“Little bird,” he said in between bites of soup. She glanced up from her own bowl of soup to meet his look. “I don’t mean to pry … but are you sure everythin’ is all right? You seem to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She blinked. “I’m fine, Ezra. Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Ezra knew he was teetering on the edge of prying, but still he pressed on. “You’re absolutely sure, birdie? There’s nothing eating away at you? If there’s anything you need me to do…”

Her face softened, and for a minute it seemed to Ezra that she was on the brink of tears. She smiled, radiant and lovely even when it was strained. “I promise, Ezra. Everything’s fine.”

A strand of her hair fell into her face. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Ezra reached out without thinking, to tuck it behind her ear, stroking her hair with his hand as he dropped it to her cheek. Then she did something that surprised him as much as it surprised her. She took his wrist in her hand and held his hand to her face, her thumb stroking his wrist softly. All Ezra could do was stare, dumbfounded.

Did she …?

And then, as quickly as it had started, she dropped his hand and slid her chair back, a flustered expression on her face as she finished the last spoonfuls of her soup.

Just as Ezra was finished untangling his thoughts, she stood abruptly. Giving him a wan smile, she collected their dishes and meandered to the kitchen sink to get started on clean-up.

* * *

You knew that you had overstepped when Ezra had reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. The flummoxed expression on his face as you had held his hand in place told you all that you needed to know. You didn’t give him the opportunity to talk to you about it.

Ezra spoke quietly from behind you. “So, birdie, I was thinkin’,” he started. Your heart started a gallop, waiting for him to continue. “And I reckon we should go into town tomorrow. I noticed today that we’re at the end of our stone cleaner.”

Oh. Of course. He probably just didn’t want to embarrass you.

“Oh! Um … sure, that sounds great,” you said, attempting to keep your voice light, ignoring that you would be leaving tomorrow while he was at the market.

 Ezra fixed you with a look that, like usual, you couldn’t read. Was he always so difficult to read?

As Ezra’s soft snores filled the pod, you formulated a plan in your head on how you would leave tomorrow. You hated that it had to end like this, you really did. But you couldn’t go on like this anymore. You weren’t sure what to do when you reached civilization - ask for a ride with a travelling merchant perhaps? You’d take the spare speeder bike as far as the market, that much you knew. Beyond that, it was anyone’s guess. You just hoped that Ezra wouldn’t be too lonely without you.

That’s why you had stayed as long as you had, you supposed. The thought of Ezra being lonely was too much for you to bear. Thick tears brushed against your eyelashes. It was selfish, you supposed, leaving like this, like a thief in the night. No. It had gone on long enough. Him not wanting you. You could never blame him for it; you didn’t have it in you to blame him. It was no fault of his own that he didn’t share your feelings. You just didn’t want things to become uncomfortable with him. As you closed your eyes for sleep, you hoped that, one day, he could forgive you.

* * *

Ezra woke you early the next morning. The sun had barely made its way over the horizon when you heard his voice. “Little bird, it’s time to wake up.” You blinked blearily at him. Here’s hoping your acting abilities are up to snuff.

“Ezra … I’m so sorry. I can’t go,” you said, pressing a hand to your forehead for effect. “I’ve got a splitting migraine this morning.”

Ezra looked concerned. “Well, this simply will not do, birdie. We shall simply have to postpone our trip.”

You had counted on that. “No, Ezra. You go on ahead without me. We need those supplies.”

Ezra frowned. “Well, so long as you’re sure, little bird. I’ll be back before dark.” You nodded, slipping your eyes shut. “And when I get back … there’s somethin’ that I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about.” You froze for half a second.

“O-okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you when you get back.” The lie felt heavy on your tongue, guilt coursing through your veins. When you opened your eyes to see him standing above you, the guilt increased tenfold. His kind warm brown eyes were filled with concern as he looked down at you. You noticed faintly that the sun was giving his hair a golden glow to it. He quickly leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before stepping back. His stubble tickled your skin.

“Back in a tick, little bird!” Ezra said over his shoulder as he stepped out the door. The clunk of the pod door behind him indicated that you were alone.

* * *

Ezra knew that something was awry with her. She had been acting fishy for a while, now. And the migraine was just too convenient. He never wanted to doubt her word, but he had his suspicions that she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him.

He’d seen the way she had tensed earlier that morning when he said he had something he wanted to discuss with her. But he had also seen the way she had welcomed his kiss with open arms, practically sinking into the bed. She was a puzzler, that was for certain.

He had reached the halfway point signpost for the market square in the village. But he never made it to the village. He’d turned around just after passing the signpost.

To hell with waiting. Kevva himself would not wait this long.

* * *

You did one more scan of the pod, making sure you had everything. Toothbrush, spare clothing and work clothes, sleep pants, your music console. You remembered when Ezra had found it in your pack the fourth day after you had joined him. Somehow he’d rigged it so it played over the speakers while he dressed your wound. That seemed like another lifetime ago, now. Even then, he had been so tender, so caring. You knew by that point that he was a space pirate, a rogue streak as prominent as the blonde swatch in his hair. But he was never a rake with you. Not once.

Focus, you told yourself. Your suit was folded up beneath your helmet, both packed snugly in the speeder bike’s basket outside. You forced yourself not to cry as you took the photo Ezra had taken of the two of you on a dig about two months ago from the cooler. You stuffed it in a spare notepad you had. You forgot why you had that notepad; you’d never used it before. Had someone given it to you?

Shaking your head, you pushed your wildly out-of-place thoughts from your mind. It was just before midday, which gave you ample time to slip out undetected from Ezra.

Should you leave a note? Your fingers hesitated as you looked down at the notepad still in your hand. What would you even say, though? Dear Ezra, sorry to split like this, but I’m in love with you and I can’t handle it? No. You couldn’t write a note. There was too much to say but no words to properly convey in a note. You could write a whole damn novel about your love for him and how it pains you to love him when he does not feel the same.

You’d never felt this way about anyone before. Sure, you’d been in love before, but never like this. This made everything before pale in comparison. As you left your spare key to the pod on the table, you paused for a moment, thinking you heard the speeder bike in the distance.

It couldn’t be, you thought as you hoisted your pack over your shoulders. It was probably the large willow tree, the branches gently swaying in the early fall breeze. It would be a long journey to the market. Ezra had taken the good speeder, but even so, he had said it would be around dark when he got back. You had just rounded the corner to the back of the pod where the speeder bikes were kept when you heard it.

Ezra’s voice. 

* * *

“Little bird?” Ezra said, “are you … going somewhere?” His voice was incredulous.

“What are you doing here? You said you would be back after dark. You weren’t supposed to -” Your voice was panicked, frantic as Ezra took you in, understanding beginning to crawl slowly across his face.

“Supposed to what, sweetheart?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

“You weren’t supposed to know that I was … Well, that I was leaving,” you said. It could have been said better, you knew that. Kevva help me, you thought as you saw Ezra’s expression change from understanding to confusion and hurt.

“Little bird, have I done something to vex you? Is this why you’ve been so off recently? If there’s somethin’ I’ve done, tell me, and I’ll do what I can to repair it.” You couldn’t bear to hear the sound of confusion in Ezra’s voice as he spoke.

“No, Ezra. Kevva, no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s me,” you said. Ezra’s brows raised. This is exactly what you didn’t want to have happen. You dropped your pack to the ground and walked towards the tree. You could hear Ezra right behind you, very clearly not finished with this discussion. You turned around to face him, seeing his brown eyes, usually so kind and soft, storming with confusion and a hint of anger.

“Oh, really?” he snapped. “And what, pray tell, is it that has you in a hurry? If it’s not me, as you so insist, then what is it that has you so hell-bent on leavin’? I think as your friend and partner of almost seven months, I have a right to know what’s got you runnin’ like a thief in the night. Do you dislike me that much?”

Something inside you snapped. “No, Ezra! I don’t dislike you. I don’t dislike you at all. How could I? When you -” You broke off. He gestured impatiently at you to go on. “When you are the best person I could have possibly ever met. I love you! Is that what you wanna hear, Ezra? I love you. And I know you don’t love me, back. That’s why I’m leaving. I understand, Kevva knows I do, but I can’t do this. Not to myself. Not to you. It wouldn’t be fai-”

The rest of your speech was cut off. A low growl made its way through Ezra's throat as he clutched the front of your shirt with his hands, yanking you to him, and crashed his lips to yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise with his mouth. Your hands found purchase at his hips, pulling him closer. It was not a gentle kiss. Not by a long shot. It was greedy, hungry. Filled with unspoken things. You broke the kiss for air, resting your forehead against his as he chased your lips with his, not wanting to be parted from you for even the briefest of moments.

“You,” said Ezra in between a kiss, “are like the very air I breathe, dear girl.” He kissed you again. “Do you not know that I would hang the very stars for you, little bird?” Another kiss, your strangled sound of surprise morphed into a moan as his lips roamed yours, his tongue poking at your lips, begging for entrance into your mouth. “Kevva himself.” Kiss. “Could not.” Kiss. “Fathom such beauty, such grace, such goodness. I love you, my dear girl.”

He pulled back for a moment, a familiar look on his face. The look that had haunted you for months. Suddenly everything clicked into place as he pulled his kiss-swollen lips back from your own puffy, swollen lips. The look he was always giving you. It wasn’t one of confusion. It was one of awe. Adoration. Love.

“I love you, Ezra.” You cupped his face with your hands, a laugh escaping your lips as you pressed them against his again. He was gentler this time, though no less passionate. You wrapped your arms around his body, needing him close to you. His lips broke from yours, roaming your cheek and jaw. You bent your head upwards, allowing him access to your neck. His scruff tickled in the best way as he moved his lips across your skin.

One of Ezra’s hands moved to your leg, pulling it around his hip. A look crossed his eye. “Do you -? Can we-?” you asked in between frantic kisses anywhere your lips could land.

“Yes, my dear thing. Yes. I mean to have you.”

With great ease and care, Ezra lowered the two of you to the ground, caging your body with his. Nothing else seemed to matter. The fact that you had attempted to leave not ten minutes ago was a thing of the ancient past. That you had thought, foolishly, that Ezra had not reciprocated your feelings - when that couldn’t be further from the truth - was a thing of distant memory. None of that mattered anymore, you thought absently, your lips never far away from Ezra’s skin, nor his from yours. The only thing that mattered right here, right now, was you and him. Together. There, in the white sunshine, beneath the tree, the two of you loved each other to the point of exhaustion.

* * *

“Ezra,” you whispered, hours later. You were covered by his long jacket, resting your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. The rest of your clothes lay haphazardly across the ground. Ezra’s eyes were shut, but you knew he was still awake. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He looked peaceful. Tranquil.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, wrapping his other arm around you, pulling you on top of him again, his hands landing at your back. He kissed you soundly. “Hi, sweet thing,” he mumbled against your lips. You pecked his lips quickly once. Twice. Just to do so. He smiled languidly against your lips.  

“Hi yourself,” you replied, nestling your face in the crook of his neck, where you had left a mark earlier. “We should probably go inside. It’s getting cold.”

Ezra pressed his lips to your temple, his words sending a different chill down your spine. “Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll warm you up.”

You stifled a grin, gasping as he scooped you up in his arms. “Ezra, I can walk just fine,” you protested as he carried you to the pod.

Ezra shot you a look. “Then I didn’t do my job correctly. Come on, sweet thing. We still have lost time to make up for.”

* * *

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You were thoroughly spent. The narrow space beside you in the cot was empty, but the sheets were still warm. Ezra hadn’t been gone long. “Ezra,” you said. Scraping and grunting was the response you got. You rolled over to your other side to see Ezra pushing his own cot towards the one you were in. “What are you doing?” you asked as he gave the cot another shove.

“I’m movin’ this over there,” Ezra replied, giving the cot another shove. “Little bird, I would share your bed anywhere, anytime. But it needs to be big enough for us both.” With one final shove, the two cots were connected. You reached a hand up lazily to stroke his cheek.

“Come back to bed, Ezra. It’s late,” you said. Sitting up, you helped him with the blankets and sheets, making it more comfortable for the two of you.

Ezra slipped beneath the sheets once again, pulling you close to him. “That’s better, birdie,” he said. You hummed in agreement. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. If only you had told him of your feelings sooner. At this thought, unexpected tears started to spring in your eyes.

At your sniffle, Ezra pulled your head back from his chest, holding it in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “My sweet darling. What troubles you?” he asked, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“I just…” you start, trying to find your words. “We could have had this a lot sooner, Ezra. If only I had … If only… I’m sorry,” you said.

“Hey. None of that, now. You hear? We were both a couple of lovesick fools who couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Do you hold it against me?” Ezra asked softly. You shook your head. How could you hold it against him? Ezra pressed his lips against your forehead before continuing. “And I could never hold it against you, my darling girl. Never. Do you hear me? I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you properly.” He kissed you once, twice.

“I love you,” you whispered back to him, settling against him. Sleep began to tug you closer as Ezra stroked your back soothingly. You slept, like that.

* * *

The next morning, you woke before Ezra. Sunlight streamed in through the open blinds. In your haste the evening before, you had forgotten to close the blinds. You had shifted sometime in the night, your face buried into his chest when you woke, lying on your side. You smiled sleepily as you gazed up at him. So calm in sleep. The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders in sleep. You leaned up and pressed your lips to the scruff of his beard. “Ezra,” you whispered, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear. He moaned, stirring from sleep, his hold on you tightening slightly. You pressed another kiss to his jaw. Ezra inhaled slightly.

“Are you trying to send me to Kevva early, darling girl?” Ezra asked, his voice rough from sleep.

You smiled against his neck, easing up on your kisses to say, “no.” The smile was evident in your voice as you returned your lips to his jaw. Finally, your lips slotted against his for a long moment.

“Good morning,” Ezra said, his mouth inches away from yours. You met them softly with your own, your hand winding into his hair gently.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly. He pulled you close. “What’s going on, Ezra?” you asked, carding your fingers in his hair.

“I just want to hold you for a while, little bird. Just like this,” he whispered against your cheek. His voice was thick with emotion. You held him tighter, your face returning to the crook of his neck as he held you. The two of you sat there like that for a long while. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

You kissed his cheek. “I love you, Ezra.” You didn’t think you would ever get tired of saying that. Before he could say anything more, your stomach grumbled loudly. It had been quite some time since you had last eaten anything. Ezra had fixed you a plate of food to share last night, but that had been many, many hours ago.  

You smiled an embarrassed smile. Ezra quirked a brow at you. “Have our activites worked up your appetite, little bird?” he asked. You sighed against his face. While you were happy to stay like this with him, you knew that you needed to get up.

* * *

Wrapped in a sheet, you watched from the table as Ezra cooked the two of you a simple breakfast, wearing nothing but his sleep pants. He had refused your offer to help outright, urging you to sit while he cooked. It was nice. Domestic. Something that you could easily get used to, you thought. His fingers twined through yours as you ate your breakfast.

Suddenly you remembered something. “Our clothes,” you said. “They’re still outside.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Too right you are, little bird. It seems that in our eagerness, we forgot,” said Ezra, an easy grin forming on his own face. You stroked his thumb with your own.

It was easy, sitting there with him like that. Now that the haze of confusion had been lifted, you felt completely at ease with both him and yourself.

The sheet you were wrapped in slipped slightly as Ezra stood to clear the dishes. “You have stains all down your back, dear thing,” he pointed out, laughter tinging his voice, remembering the events of yesterday. What had caused you to get those stains, or rather who.

“Yes, I figured as much. Someone had their way with me beneath the tree yesterday,” you said drily, a smirk crossing your face as Ezra choked slightly on his coffee at your words. You turned to face him. “I figure a shower would do us both some good,” you continued. You offered for him to go shower first while you tidied up the kitchen. You knew that if you offered to go together, it would turn into something else entirely before too long.

“Don’t take too long in there, sweet thing. I’m not finished with you yet,” Ezra said as he emerged from the bathroom in almost record speed.

* * *

Much, much later, the two of you lay entwined together in your merged beds. You rested on his chest, Ezra’s arm draped across your back. His hand stroked soothing patterns against the skin of your back, almost lulling you back to sleep.

“Little bird?” he said suddenly, his chest rumbling against your ear.

“Yes?” you said dreamily.

“Don’t go anywhere. Not without me. I don’t think my old heart could take it,” Ezra said quietly, self-consciously. He almost sounded afraid of what your answer would be. You propped yourself up on your elbow so that you could look him directly in his eyes.

“Ezra, I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” You pressed your lips to his to further confirm this. “I love you,” you said as you settled back down against him, letting him cage your body against his.

It had been an … interesting few days to say the least. You realized now that you should have just spoken your feelings to Ezra sooner. But you couldn’t change that, not now. Not that it mattered. You didn’t care that it had taken the two of you this long to get here. What mattered was that you were here, now, with him. Everything else was just detail.

As Ezra shifted slightly, on the precipice of sleep, you snuggled against him. You let him rest. When he woke, you would continue on your day, doing nothing in particular with him. For right now, you were happy to rest with him. If you were lucky, you would doze off as well. Ezra muttered your name in his sleep as you brushed his blonde streak out of his eyes gently. He needed a haircut soon, you thought. You pushed the tasks you knew the two of you needed to complete out of your mind. They would keep.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {8}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Tiny Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes, Small Time Jumps

Words: 6.6k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

-Henry-

The minute he woke the next day and the alcohol had worn off; he instantly regretted his actions. His head was pounding and his nose stuffy, which was always what the morning after a drinking fest looked and felt like for him. the pain in his head made him painfully aware of everything he’d said to you. More than half of him wished he would have just held his peace and moved on, but the other side of him—the stubborn bull side felt nothing but satisfaction from what he’d done. It was time, especially seeing that you completely had the wrong idea about who he was and his character. He couldn’t help but wonder what you thought about your conversation, but instead of dwelling on it, he decided to push it to the side and do the logical thing. Move on.

 It was now five days since that conversation, and though it felt strange the first couple of days to not send you a message when you ran across his mind, he did it and adapted. He now was throwing himself into work because there wasn’t a shortage of it. Most days, he was in pre-production for Witcher two, and that in itself was a lot of work. Production decided to kick fight choreography up a notch because last season wasn’t badass enough. The choreography this season was definitely taking it up several notches, and it meant more long hours of training and even more potential for him to be hurt.

By week two post convo, he was steadily counting down to his vacation time. Training was kicking his ass, and the more and more days that passed, the more he thought of you. That wasn’t all though, the more the way he thought of you changed. In the beginning, he thought he was infatuated or possibly obsessed. When he was around you, he always felt as if he wasn’t in control. He felt like there were forces that were controlling your interactions and pulling a starry blanket over his feelings. He expected this time away to act as a purge, but it hadn’t, not in the way he’d anticipated.

 “Come on, her name is Becca, and she’s super cute,” Alisha said.

 “Why is it that all my brother’s wives want to set me up?”

 “Because we care. You’re too great of a guy to be alone,” Halley complimented.

 They all nodded, and his eldest brother painfully squeezed his cheek.

 “Plus, look at this face,” Nik teased, making all of them elate.

 It had been like this since they were kids. Nothing had changed.

 “I’m perfectly fine being alone,” he answered.

 “Doesn’t mean you should be,” Amee piped out.

 No matter what, he said it wouldn’t be good enough until he gave them what they wanted. He had no intention of doing it, though. He wasn’t sure if it was really his loathing of being set up or because he didn’t want to pretend to want anyone else. Whatever it was, it had him declining to their annoyance. He could stick it out for the next two weeks until he got out of London.

  -Aliya-

“You fucked up, plain and simple,” Amaya blurted out as she flipped through a magazine.

 You rolled your eyes and tried to continue writing notes to the song you’d just wrote. As sure as you were that it was pitch black outside, you knew she wasn’t done—not by a long shot. A minute passed in silence, but as projected, Amaya began again.

 “Just explain to me why you don’t want to be happy.” Amaya tossed the magazine aside, giving you her full attention. Still, you ignored her and kept your eyes glued to the note pad.

 “Liya, come on. At some point in your life, you’re going to have to be honest with yourself.”

 She was right. For the last few weeks, you’d spent a lot of sleepless nights doing just that. Since Henry’s call, you’d been forced to look at your situation in a light you’d ignored. It wasn’t that you were doing it maliciously. It was just easier and neater to see the worst in every situation hence the worst in people. You’d been the girl who dug deep for the best in people and only focused on that and their potential for too long. It made more sense from a survivalist standpoint to be different.

 You’d went back and forth and round and round your situation, and perhaps you were too quick to jump to conclusions. The bottom line was the things he said had affected you, more than you liked and more than you could ignore. A few days after his call, you saw his picture in The Sun. He wasn’t alone. It looked like he’d had a long night of partying. You deduced it was probably the same night he called you. Though he was obviously drunk, he still looked so damn good. In the last few weeks, you’d thought about him a lot. On several occasions, you’d taken up your phone for the sole purpose to stalk his Instagram or even scroll through your gallery to gawk at his pictures. Never though, did you attempt to call.

 The main reason was that you hated being the one in the wrong. You hated feeling like the asshole and what was worse was that you also hated apologizing. So, you bit your tongue, pushed your thoughts and emotions aside, and just hoped time would make it all fade. It didn’t.

 “Aliya!”

 Closing your notepad, you stood. “We’re going to miss the flight.”

 “Whatever! It’s a private jet. It’s your private jet.”

 You were already out of the room, which meant thankfully, you didn’t have to see her face. The drive to the private airfield was about forty-five minutes. For the entire ride, you could feel Amaya’s annoyance with you. she didn’t say one word. Instead, she kept her nose buried in her phone scrolling her life away. It was okay with you; you had plenty of work to do. Plus, you knew this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

 Sure enough, twenty minutes into the flight to London, she was back at it. The difference between Amaya and Alicia was simple. Where Alicia liked to leave me be until she knew the perfect time to go in because she knew the perfect time would come when you would be more receptive to it, Amaya preferred to go in all the time. She was always on one hundred. You loved both your best friends dearly, and they both spoke to different sides of you, but sometimes you wished they were wrong a lot more often than they were right.

 When you got pulled into a phone meeting, you were grateful and even more so when it lasted for almost two hours. By the time you ended the call, Amaya was napping. Though you thought the silence was what you wanted, it was a blessing in disguise. It meant you now had peace and quiet to think, and your thoughts more often than not went right to Henry.

 When you landed in London and checked into the hotel, it was after midnight. Once you’d taken a shower and answered a few emails, you popped two sleep aids in hopes they would knock you out because you needed all your energy tomorrow.

  -The Next Day-

Hectic was an understatement for how your morning and afternoon had been going. One of the great things about being you was that when you got bored with one career avenue, you had three more to distract yourself with. For the last several months, you’d been focusing on your acting career and had been able to complete two films and three guest appearances. In between acting gigs you were also able to do a few modeling events, including Fall and Spring fashion week.

 What had fallen to the wayside was your singing career. It was almost time for you to fulfill your contractual obligations by releasing another album. You’d been focusing on writing new material for the last few weeks, and tonight you were putting on one of the last stops on a mini-tour your team had planned months ago. The travel alone was killing you. You were exhausted, even more than usual. With every show, you felt your body telling you it would soon be time to slow down or stop for a few months. You needed a break.

 “I should have flown in days ago. I hate feeling like this isn’t perfect.”

 “Aliya, it’s fine,” Alicia countered.

 The perfectionist in you didn’t believe her.

 “I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. You have to go anyway. The show is supposed to start at six; it’s already three.”

 She was right. Though you hated it, you would have to cross your fingers and hope things looked cohesive. After finishing up the last-minute wardrobe adjustments and a quick pep talk with your dancers, you made your way back to the hotel to get in a little bit of pampering before having to get back to the center for prep.

 As you laid on the table and enjoyed your deep tissue massage, you allowed the worries to float away. There was nothing you could do about it now anyway. You were also sure it was perfectly fine, and just your obsessive nature taking over. Tuning everything out, you focused on your meditative breathing. Before you knew it, it was time to get back to the center to get into wardrobe and put on a show worthy of the hundreds that were spent on tickets. You were determined to perform your ass off.

  -Henry-

He couldn’t have gotten out of tonight no matter what. He’d tried. When Charlie announced to everyone that Heather had made plans for their adults' date night, he rolled his eyes. Now that he thought of it, it was around the time that Amee tried to set him up with that woman. This was supposed to be a blind date, and since he’d declined, he was here alone while all his other brothers were snuggling up and whispering to their significant others.

 Here he was an hour and ten minutes into your show, and he’d never had more fluctuating thoughts and feelings. At first, it was surprise; then annoyance, then it transitioned into awe until it moved to arousal and admiration. Now he was stewing deep in all of them, and it was not a good look. Your voice was incredible. He’d always known how talented you were. Your stamina to dance and sing blew his mind. Then when he watched those dance moves closer, it was impossible to keep his thoughts pure. It also didn’t help that the outfits you were wearing only fueled his imagination more.

 “What’s wrong with you? You said you liked Aliya Taylor,” Amee shouted over the music.

 Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, she’s great. I’m tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

 When you came out for the final song in a flowing low cut white gown and barefoot, he staggered backward when he envisioned you walking down a flower aisle.

 “Fucking hell!”

 All eyes snapped to him, and the curious looks on their faces only had him needing air even more.

 “I—I’m gonna get a head start to the cars.”

 Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked through the crowd, not daring to look back at you.

   -Aliya-

Amaya and Alicia laughed together at something on Amaya’s timeline. No doubt it was some picture of one of her boy toys. You sipped from your flower decorated porcelain teacup while staring out over London to the Eye. Just behind it, Big Ben stood tall and proud as it chimes for four o’clock echoed through the city. This was a city you’d spent a lot of time in thanks to your grandparents on your father’s side. Not as much time as they’d like, but there was only so much free time you had. Big Ben and the Eye were two of your favorite things about London.

 You should have been on cloud nine after another successful show and checking another thing off your extensive to-do list, but you weren’t. You felt almost as gloomy as the rolling clouds in the sky that threatened rain.

 “You seem depressed.”

 Alicia’s voice had you turning back to them you softly smiled. “I’m not.”

 “You look it,” Amaya slid home.

 Rolling your eyes, you finished your cup of tea and gently placed it on its matching saucer with a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you then.”

 Amaya then gasped with a smile in her eyes. “I know what it is. You’re finally missing your grade A prime beef of a man.”

 Snorting, you shook your head. “Oh god. Try again.”

 “You might be right, Mya,” Leece started placed her elbows on the table to peer at you closer. “This all started the night we had dinner with him. What’s his name again?” Both of them pretended to wrack their brains to remember his name, but they knew damn well what it was.

 “Ah, Henry,” Amaya cooed, making you roll your eyes even harder.

 “Both of you stop. You’re not funny.”

 “We approve.”

 “I second that,” Alicia added.

 “What? Really?”

 “Are you kidding? Yeah. Not only is he gorgeous, like drop dead gorgeous, but he is also super nice. Throughout dinner he was very courteous and sincere. You know I’m a good people reader,” Amaya attested.

 “He’s funny, and he seemed to be genuine with his efforts to get to know Mya and me. He also was putting in effort into proving something to you.”

 Sighing, you took a few sips of your water.

 “Honestly, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him.”

 “Really? Perfection?”

 You couldn’t believe your ears. Yes, you’d suspected they liked him, but the perfect word was just uttered. It was never spoken of, not by them.

 “Pretty much,” Amaya doubled down.

 “Wow.”

 “Tell me about it. Move on that before some other chick does. He will not be single for long,” Amaya added.

 For some reason, this was the first time you’d thought about that, and you couldn’t believe it. She was right. He was gorgeous, among other things, and women already fawned over him. He wouldn’t be licking his wounds much longer. A knot formed in your gut, and a sour taste in your mouth followed. Glancing away from their penetrative gazes, you looked around the restaurant and nearly dropped the water glass when you saw Henry across the restaurant laughing. This was the first time you’d seen him in person since your breakfast in New York weeks and weeks ago, and he looked great.

Your eyes drank him up, taking their time soaking up every detail of his face, the slight stubble that decorated his chiseled jaw, his perfectly imperfect smile, his hair that fell slightly longer than you remembered. When he spoke again, you watched his mouth move and quickly got lost. You didn’t have to hear his words. You knew how he spoke them. You knew the effect his voice had. At the thought of that effect, you peeled your eyes away and tried to keep them on either Alicia, Amaya, or the table. Of course, it was impossible. Your eyes continuously found him, and it was on him they remained until you forced yourself to look away.

 “What do you keep looking at?”

 Amaya glanced around the restaurant. You knew she’d found him because when she turned to face you again, her smile was as wide as a thief's.

 “Oh ho ho, looks like fate is on mine and Leece’s side.”

 “Stop. Be cool, act natural. Don’t make a scene,” you pleaded.

 “Look at that, same place, same time, just mere feet away.”

 From the tone of her voice, you knew she was tempted to fuck with you.

 “Stop, Amaya. Don’t.”

 “Why?”

 Trying to keep your voice down and the panic from your face, you pleaded again. “Just don’t.”

 Amaya studied you for a few moments before she nodded in defeat. Relief flooded you. Though you tried, you couldn’t get your head back onto lunch and off of him no matter how you tried. The three of you left shortly after passing his table on the way out.

 Thanks to a little free time, you, Amaya, and Alicia were able to soak up some shopping in London and before getting back to the hotel for a quick change, then dinner. Even though you tried to stop thinking about Henry’s face earlier, you weren’t the least bit successful, but you played it off like everything was cool. You didn’t know if you fooled either of them, but you really didn’t care. You were so ready to get the hell out of London.

  -That Night-

Big Ben’s chime for one in the morning ringing out all around you. It was yet another night of sleeplessness. From your seat at the window, you could feel the nice breeze. It still smelled like rain, but for whatever reason, the rain was staying away. Finishing your glass of wine, you sighed out and nearly leaped out your skin when your phone rang in the quiet room.

 “Hello?”

 “What’s wrong?”

 You smiled from the unexpected sound of your gramaw’s voice. It was like the concrete gate you had around your heart that was constricting it to the point where it was challenging to breathe loosened.

 Sighing, you leaned back, reclining against the surface.

 “I think I fell in love,” you whispered.

 “In love?”

 Hearing the words said back to you made you close your eyes and shake your head.

 “Yeah, at least I think that’s what I’m feeling. I can’t sleep well, not that I could before. I feel a little depressed, and I can’t pinpoint why, but when I think about it, I feel this way when I think about him. Not to mention, I think about him all the time. Christ, I even dream about him.”

 Pausing, you glanced at your phone to find his picture there. It was the last thing you’d been looking at before tossing your phone away.

 “I truly feel like I did something wrong, like I was wrong,” you confessed.

 “Have you talked to him?”

 Hitting your head back, you groaned. “Not since he called me and told me I’m missing out on him and gave me all the reasons why I should realizing I’m missing out.”

 You couldn't help but smile at his words as you remembered them.

 “Do you feel like you’re missing out?”

 Your Gramaw always knew the right questions to ask. She was one of the few that did, one of the few that you’d even listen to. Bowing your head, you sighed again.

 “Maybe. Normally I’m sure about someone and sure that I don’t need or want them in my life, but with him—I have doubts with my snap judgment.”

 “Oh no, snap judgments are never a good thing, Aliya.”

 You groaned hearing the disappointment in her voice. “I know, jeez do I know.”

 “What do you feel like doing?”

 You scoffed, if you knew that you wouldn’t be going through this struggle.

 “I’ll be to you in a few days. I’ll see you soon.”

 “Your heart, Aliya, not your head,” she cautioned before you ended the call.

 For the next thirty or so minutes, you paced the balcony of your room as you debated with yourself over what you were going to do. After psyching yourself up as much as you could, you bit the bullet dialing Henry’s number before you talked yourself out of it. After one ring, you almost hung up but forced yourself to stick through the terror running through you. Two rings passed, then three. At the fourth you began to lower your hand to end the call and then his voice echoed through the speaker.

 “Hello?”

 You froze drawing a blank and forgetting for a moment you had a voice.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello,” you whispered.

 The rustling on his end was loud but brief.

 “Aliya?”

 Swallowing the lump, you took a deep breath. “Yeah. Hi.”

 “It’s after one in the morning. Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”

 Your heart lurched, and a soft smile spread across your lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” you assured.

 He sighed, then yawned.

 “I uh—I know it’s late or early. I know you, um, probably have something better to do than be up. I’m sorry if I woke you,” you half rushed and stuttered out.

 “You’re rambling, Aliya.” You stopped your pacing then and slapped your forehead.

 “Yes, I am. I do that when I’m nervous,” you blurted.

 “Why are you nervous?”

 Pausing, you gripped the rail on the balcony and used it to center yourself and get your nerves under control.

 “Well, I’m about to ask the man I told I wouldn’t be with to meet me somewhere at nearly two in the morning. I’m—sending major mixed signals.”

 Henry didn’t speak right away. Instead, he waited, making you chew your bottom lip as your anxiety increased.

 “Why?”

 “Wh—why? Why what?”

 “Why should I?”

 Stunned, your jaw dropped. “Oh, wow, out with the hard questions. Okay. Um—well—you should meet me because uh—it’s not often that I realize I was wrong or did something wrong and when I realize that, I like to say so.”

 Again the silence over the phone stretched for long moments. After a full minute of it, your anxiety peaked.

 “Still there?”

 Henry sighed. “I’m here. I’m thinking.”

 His voice sounded so deliciously deep. Either you had woken him, and this was his sleepy voice, or he was purposely giving you that sexy baritone.

 “By all means. Think as long as you need to. Um—I’ll be at the eye until 2:30. I um—I hope you show. If you don’t, I understand, really I do and no hard feelings.”

 Quickly you ended the call and panted as if you’d been running a marathon all in an effort to calm yourself down. It had been years since you’d put yourself through something like that, and you had a feeling it was only the beginning of you making amends.

Being Aliya Taylor afforded you some perks, and one was being able to have access to the eye well after closing. All it took was one call, well two to be exact, and voila, you were sitting in one of the cars anxiously waiting for Henry. You had no idea if he’d show, and the more and more time that passed with him not magically appearing, the more and more your brain worked overtime. The scenery helped a lot, but when you glanced at your watch and saw that it was almost 2:30, the scenery could do no more. Your nerves and anxiety had erupted like a volcano.

 “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

 Spinning, you saw Henry at the door still on the platform. You released a relieved sigh, realizing he hadn’t stood you up.

 “Good thing I’m not—anymore.”

 Henry stepped into the car and took a few steps to you but stopped when he was still a ways away.

 “London after two is not safe,” Henry informed.

 “I know.”

 The doors closed, and the contraption began moving.

 “How in the world did you get them to open this for you?”

 Smiling, you shrugged. “I may know people in high places,” you replied, which made him smile.

“This is one of my favorite places in London,” you announced as you walked around the car, taking care not to get too close. You didn’t know if you could handle it right away, and you had to feel him out to see what his coming really meant.

 “Why?”

 “You can see all of greater London from here and out to the countryside if you really look once you’re up high.”

 Henry also walked around the car, mirroring your intentions. Neither of you came close enough to touch one another.

 “How often do you come to London?”

 “A lot. I have some family here, plus I prefer the countryside.”

 “So you have some British blood,” Henry inquired, half a question, half a statement.

 “I had to. Only the Bris would dare think to send their daughters off to finishing school,” you quipped.

 Henry’s laugh filled the car, making you smile widely. He walked to one of the many windows turning his back to you. Slowly you looked over his broad back, taking in every detail. Your fingers could still remember what the dance of his muscles felt like underneath them, and they itched to feel them dance again. Taking a deep breath, you fiddled your fingers.

 “Uh--I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important by asking you here. Like I hope I didn’t impose on—anyone.”

 You were fishing, it was obvious, and you felt no shame.

 “Eh, who needs sleep anyway. I can sleep when I’m dead,” Henry replied with a shrug of those magnificent shoulders still keeping his back to you.

 “Were um--were you uh—sleeping—alone?”

 Your heart was pounding so loudly you could swear he could hear it. He didn’t speak or turn around. He just stood there torturing you. You wondered if he knew it was sheer torture what he was doing. Did he even care? The longer he remained quiet, the more you freaked out until you decided to backtrack all the way back.

“I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It is absolutely none of my business. I don’t even know why I asked that,” you rushed out, rubbing your forehead from embarrassment before beginning to pace the car.

 That was when Henry chose to turn around.

 “I know a woman doesn’t say something she doesn’t mean, and usually when a woman asks a question, she wants to know the answer either to prove herself right or in hopes she’s wrong. What is it for you?”

 His voice made you stop in the midst of pacing to watch his mouth as he spoke. There was something poetic about how he spoke, and it always distracted you. Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought about how to respond. You were already tired of the verbal Olympics and talking around each other.

 Sighing, you rolled your eyes. “Henry--.”

 “You know that’s the first time you’ve said my name without the word goodbye in front of it.”

 That made you snap your mouth shut. Had it?

 “That’s not true,” you protested.

 “It actually is. I was beginning to think you like saying goodbye rather than hello.”

 You took a step to him. “That’s not true. I like saying hello way more than goodbye,” you defended.

 The neutral look on his face gave you no confidence to go on, so you rolled your eyes and continued to walk around the car. This would be harder than you expected, you thought.

 “I was sleeping alone. I’ve slept alone for quite some time now,” he informed just as you were looking out of the window to the city.

 “Look, Henry, I-,” you began again, but then henry cut you off.

 “That day in New York those weeks ago, I should have plain and simply laid it out for you. I should have told you everything. I was with Francesca--.”

 “Don’t, don’t, don’t. I honestly don’t want to know.”

 “But you need to know. There is no way you can begin to trust me or begin to let yourself gravitate to me the way you’re entire being wants until you know,” Henry slid out. Pressing your palm to your abdomen, you tried to slow the butterflies that began flitting.

 “I was with Francesca for about two years. The whole time I knew she wanted a family in life. She was always vocal about her wanting to get married young and have kids. I knew, but I never paid attention to it. I was away filming something for a while, and when I came home one weekend, I caught her with someone else.”

 Your eyes widened, hearing his words.

 “turns out she was beginning a relationship with someone else, someone who she thought would lead to marriage and kids,” Henry added. His voice held steady, but you could imagine the pain going through those memories again.

 “I’m sorry.”

 Henry shook his head, “It’s not necessary. After a few months of her trying to make amends, I thought we’d try again.” He scoffed then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a hopeless romantic. After months of trying, I knew it wouldn’t work, but I kept a relationship of sorts with her.”

 You understood. They were bed buddies.

 “I then met Abby, and what started as a fling developed into something more. Long story short, I got wind of a rumor she was using me for fame and money, so I distanced myself from her. after some time of her telling I had it all wrong, I decided it was easier keeping her around though my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t juggling them. I hadn’t slept with either of them in a long time. I just—I felt it was better to have someone who misses me and wants me than living the lonely actor life.”

 His honesty had you frozen. When he began to explain, you hadn’t expected him to reveal so much. You expected a bare minimum explanation, but what you’d gotten revealed so much more about him. You felt bad.

 “I guess allowing the attentions and affections to remain is just as bad as juggling them. I was playing with their hearts. I’m not proud of it.”

 Henry dipped his head, showing he felt some shame for his actions.

 “When I met you, I realized although I had these two women sort of vying for me, I was still lonely, but those moments we were together, I didn’t feel alone. I felt--,” he paused as if trying to find the right word. His hesitation made you look down.

 You knew what you’d felt.

 “When I met you, I felt someone I’d never felt before, something I don’t fully understand. I don’t know what that means, but I know I want to find out—with you.”

 Finally, able to release the breath you held, you took another, then cleared your throat. “I’m not juggling two guys. I was dating two guys, but not sleeping with both. I was with Liam first, and we had an okay relationship. We were busy, never saw each other and when we did it wasn’t for long. He um—he got annoyed and broke up with me. He said I was impacting his work, and he needed to focus.”

 You remembered how he’d said it too. He’d said it like you were the one to blame for the roles he’d gotten or hadn’t gotten.

 “I was fine with it, and during those five months apart, I met Jesse. We worked together and had fun and began dating. It wasn't anything sexual. Then Liam comes back and wants to pick up where we left off. I told him about Jesse, and he was fine with it.”

 The shock on Henry’s face almost made you laugh. Alicia and Amaya were also surprised they’d chosen that unconventional path. Amaya, of course, thought you should have kept it secret from both of them.

 “One day, Jesse sees Liam and me out, and it pissed him off enough to end things. Three weeks later, I lay it out for both that I don’t want to choose, and I don’t want anything serious. They were both fine with it, and so it went on. Six months later, I decided I needed to be on my own to focus on work and me. They didn’t like the decision. They call and text me to try to—rekindle something.”

 Henry scoffed, and you watched a soft smile tickle his lips.

 “I haven’t physically seen either of them in weeks, now maybe months,” you finished.

 Henry was quiet for a few seconds before he snorted.

 “They were mad.”

 “Angry?”

 “No, mad, bonkers,” Henry clarified.

 “Oh, crazy.”

 “Yeah. To be okay to share you, be willing to do something like that. I couldn’t do that,” Henry informed, making you smile in the process.

 “Well, men do crazy things.”

 “I can attest to that, but I’d never do something that crazy. I can’t share what’s mine. I won’t.”

 Your eyes locked, and your body swayed toward his. It was like he was metal and you a magnet. Everything in you wanted to be close to him. The more you tried to fight the pull, the harder it became to breathe. The harder it was to breathe, the dizzier you became.

 “I—I—I—I,” you began before gulping the knot in your throat down that was making you speak in a raspy whisper. “I don’t—know what this is.”

 Henry nodded.

 “I am not used to not knowing and being out of control,” you continued.

 “You feel less controlled too?”

 You couldn't help but to nod. Once you did, Henry took a step to you. You took a step back.

 “Hold on. I like control. I like control a lot. Anything that threatens that control is not for me.”

 Henry’s eyes lowered but only for a moment before he was looking right back into yours.

 “But—I really want to find out why you make me less controlled,” you finally admitted.

 The uncertainty on his face spoke volumes.  “What does that mean? Where does that leave this—us?”

 You chewed your bottom lip; you realized how ill-prepared you’d been.

 “Honestly, I didn’t think this meeting out that far. I only planned up to when you showed up. I’ve um—I’ve been winging it this whole time.”

 His smile started small but spread wide in seconds; then, he laughed loudly.

 “So you won’t mind me making a plan?”

 Oh lord, you thought, feeling his alpha pop out. You bit your bottom lip again.

 “What kind of plan?”

 Henry closed the remaining space between you. Every step he took had you shaking even more.

 “A plan that I’ve envisioned every night since brunch.”

Stopped in front of you and held you captivated by his gaze and the sheer dominating energy rolling off of him. The way he stood there taller than you made your mouth run dry.

 “Jesus, you’re freakishly short,” Henry teased in his perfect Englishman voice.

 Smiling, you shook your head. “I know, I debated wearing heels but didn’t—I wanted you to see me normal for someone reason I don’t under--.”

 Henry’s sudden movement cut you off. He dipped down the entire foot he overshadowed you and lifted you into the air to hold you flush against his body. Then he lowered his lips to yours, taking and keeping control of an intensely passionate kiss. A kiss you hadn’t known you craved until it began, a kiss you were not prepared for. You moaned against his lips, and that moan triggered his. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you clung to him, and every sensation you were feeling and even new ones he was awakening within you.

 Slowly, Henry pulled his lips from your, but he kept your body to his. You kept your eyes closed, relishing the lingering effects.

 “You’re shaking,” Henry whispered.

 “So are you.”

 You opened your eyes and gazed into his as he slowly lowered you back to your feet.

 “What else is part of your plan?”

 Henry's smile spread across his face. “For me to carry out any other part of my plan would be completely rakish of  me.”

 His smile was adorable, but still intimidatingly sexy.

 “I take it you’re not a rake.”

 “Not in the least.”

 “All right. So, alternate plan?”

 He smiled again. “Still pretty rakish.”

 With that, he brought his lips back to yours, but this time he didn’t pull back for several long minutes.

 Though you knew people in high places, it didn’t mean you could keep the eye open all morning. After three trips around, the two of you got off then walked around London holding hands and eating ice cream. It was such a weird sensation allowing someone to hold your hand. It had been a long time since you’d ever wanted to. The entire time you laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. One thing was clear; neither of you was in any rush for your time together to end.

 But end, it had to. When Henry walked you back to your hotel, it was almost time for the sun to come up.

 “Home safe and sound,” Henry joked.

 “Yes, thanks to Superman.”

 “No, no, I’m just the man. Henry Cavill.”

 He held his hand out to you. Smiling, you rolled your eyes.

 “Now is when we get to this?”

 His goofy smile and shrug had your head skip a beat.

 “Aliya Taylor,” you said, shaking his hand.

 “Nice to meet you. Mind if I call you Aliya or Liya, that's all a mouthful,” Henry teased.

 Your laugh was loud, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth, remembering what time it was.

 “Yes, you can call me either. Can I call you Henners or Hank?”

 “No. My friends call me that.”

 “So, I’m not your friend?”

 “If I have anything to say about it, which I do, then no. I don’t want you as a friend.” Henry replied, making you smile like a little girl at Christmas.

 “Then what do you want me as?”

 Your eyes lingered for a few seconds before Henry was pulling you closer to brush the back of his hand against your cheek.

 “For now, I’ll settle for my girlfriend.”

 The man was an expert at charm. You bit into your bottom lip and tried to stop smiling. “Girlfriend, wow. That’s a loaded title. What does it entail?”

 “Well, for one, it entails being your true self with me, accepting my true self, being there for me when I need you, letting me be there for you when you need me or when I need you, allowing me to be your strength when you’re weak, your hope when you’re hopeless. Allowing me to grow with you, learn with you. Giving me your time and attention, enough of it so what we have can grow. Trusting me and letting me spoil you rotten.”

 If he weren’t holding you against him, you would have fallen back.

 “Is that all?”

 Henry leaned closer kisses your cheek. “To begin.”

 “And if I refused to be this girlfriend you speak of?”

 “Then I’d just have to convince you,” Henry cooed.

 “How?”

 Right on que, Henry dipped his lips to yours. The second they touched, you moaned and held him close. Why resist when you could enjoy it, you thought. His tongue swirled with yours before he nibbled then sucked your bottom lip. When he pulled back, your eyes remained closed.

 “I’m convinced.”

 Henry pecked your lips once, then twice. “Good. Girlfriend.”

 Your eyes locked again, and you forgot all common sense for what felt like an eternity.

 “Eh-em—I have to be on a set in the morning.”

 “Which is now,” Henry filled in.

 Still hazed in the brain, you stuttered and smiled like a fool.

 “Mm, did I stay out all night?”

 “You did. I hope it was worth it.”

 Smiling, you kissed his jaw. “We’ll see,” you whispered as you backed away from him, making your way to the door.

 “Good morning, Henry.”

 He smiled again, watching you disappear inside the hotel. As you walked to the elevator bank, you couldn’t stop smiling or stop the butterflies that had been flying all night in your stomach. As you stepped onto the elevator and watched the doors closed, you recognized the feeling you felt as happiness. It had been absent for a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[novantinuum]

Intake, Ch. 2

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Words: 3600~

Summary: While waiting in the van, Greg reflects on the current state of his son’s mental health, and his many questionable parenting decisions.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a bonus Greg-POV follow up to a previous one-shot I wrote. No context of that is needed to understand this.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Animated fireworks flash on Greg Universe’s phone screen, virtual fanfare for the virtual victor, as he clears the last king from the tableau. His brows shoot upwards in delight when he sees the final count of the timer. Wow, under three minutes. That’s close to a personal record. Not too shabby for a man who swears he finds a new strand of grey each and every week.

Another day, another successful round of solitaire in the bag.

Sighing, he almost clicks for a new deal, but then realizes it’s almost noon, and that his son is set to finish his first session any minute now. With that in mind, he switches off his phone and nestles it in the empty cup holder at his side, making sure it doesn’t touch the sticky soda stain covering a portion of the plastic. He’d kinda like to be paying attention when Steven exits the therapist’s office, rather than lose himself in a mindless distraction only to be startlingly yanked back to reality by timid knocks on the van door.

Timid.

If any word could be used to describe the way Steven dances around interactions with him these days, this one fits the bill. The boy will sometimes talk to him, sure, but it’s all small talk, short and curt responses, half-hearted shrugs. He’s positive there has to be more to his reluctance to fully engage, to even embrace him, but if so he’s not seeing it. At this point, the last time they had a true heart-to-heart conversation was on their road trip, before the crash. What on Earth happened? They used to be close. They used to share everything with each other, before he moved in with the Gems. Years later, he assumed they still did. And yet, after Dr. Maheswaran showed him the blunt reality of the X-rays on Steven’s chart... those dozens of healed-over fractures, speaking to a litany of injuries sustained throughout childhood, injuries he never knew about, all leading to trauma he never saw the signs of... he realized that, at some point, the two of them had drifted apart. When he was younger he thought he was correcting from his parents’ iron rule, letting his son have all the freedom he wanted. But was it too much? Was he that neglectful a father?

When did he stop paying attention to Steven’s emotional needs enough to miss his steep slip into mental distress?

He sighs, guilt lining the inside of his stomach like the burn of hard liquor coating one’s throat.

It’s not about me, he reminds himself. I can’t make it about me.

It’s the same mantra that kept him stubbornly pushing forward through waves of anguish and remorse weeks back, when his poor boy was roaring, slashing his claws at anyone that dared edge close, years of buried anger and pain thrown to the forefront in a veritable explosion of scales and thorns.

He glides his hand across the faux wood paneling on the dashboard as he consigns himself to recent memory, letting both his fingertips and his mind trace every dip and ridge of its grain. That was probably the most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed in his life. His own son, disappearing in seconds into this... this monstrous thing, like all the corrupted Gems he used to see them fight from a distance but so, so much bigger. So much rawer. He genuinely thought he’d lost him forever that day. His own panic aside, he can’t even imagine what that experience must have been like for Steven. Remembering those heartbreaking three words he said before it happened, though, glowing pink on hands and knees, he’s not sure he wants to.

“Greg,” Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran says sternly as he exits the thrashed examination room, toting a clipboard under her arm. Her gaze, while undoubtedly sympathetic to the plight of the boy who’s currently changing back into his clothes in privacy, regards him with a fiery sort of reproval the likes he hasn’t squirmed under since he was a child himself. “We need to have a frank conversation about your son’s wellbeing.”

From the corner of his eyes he catches a blur of pink and faded denim blue pushing through the small office’s exterior door. Greg jolts to action, wiping what he fears is a self-pitying look off his face and attempting to replace it with something that looks halfway encouraging. Part of him’s terrified that no matter what he changes, it‘ll never be enough. He’s admittedly still at a loss for how to most helpfully interact with someone struggling with, erm... well, let’s be blunt— with long-untreated mental illness— but he’d do anything for his son’s sake at this point, even if that involves the hard work of addressing his own habits and convictions. He unlocks the van just as Steven walks up alongside.

He can’t help but briefly hold his breath the moment the passenger door opens.

The teen appears no different than he did when Greg left the office to sit in the van an hour and a half ago— his eyes are downcast, drawn with exhaustion, expression unreadable— but to be fair he supposes it’s silly to expect any drastic shift in mood after only one session. Right?

“Now, to be clear, I’m not licensed to diagnose mental disorders,” she explains, glancing up from her notes, “but from everything I’ve witnessed, tested, and heard from him today I have a strong suspicion that he’s dealing with post-traumatic stress.” Mouth pinched, she drops her clipboard on the counter beside them, its dull clap as it hits the laminate punctuating the sheer gravity of her words. “There’s my prognosis,” she says bluntly, palms spread wide. “This looks like textbook PTSD, ignored and overlooked for months.”

Greg lets the bitter reality of those four letters sink in, his eyes burning, throat dry, his heart cracking with despair at the very thought of— he only barely holds back what he’s sure in this circumstance, host to the scolding of a medical practitioner, is a pathetic sob— of his Steven, suffering through all these turbulent emotions for goodness knows how long, no one the wiser, no one noticing his silent cries for help, no one—

He... god, he didn’t know. He didn’t know! How could he have been so stupid to not have noticed?

“You do understand how serious this situation is, yes?” she continues when he doesn’t vocally respond. “How- how irresponsible it is to have never taken your sixteen-year-old son in for even, what? A simple check up? And, and—“ she holds her hands up before he can blurt out a response. “I know what you’re about to say. I know he’s half-Gem, I know he’s different than anyone else on this planet. But he has human needs, too, Greg! I just—!” Priyanka inhales deep, pressing her thumb against her temple as she pauses to catch her cool. “Pardon me. I’m sorry for snapping. I know you love him, and mean well with him, but at this point, we need to face the truth. That boy is hurting, badly. And if he’s going to have any chance of recovering from this, he needs your full support now more than ever.”

The passenger seatbelt clicks, the door already closed. Steven sighs under his breath, sinking into the time-worn, faded seat back. Greg studies his son’s face for a moment, noting with concern the lines of stress creased under his eyes.

“Hey, bud,” he says, his hands shifting to the wheel, nervously fidgeting as he waits for a response, any response.

“Hey,” he mutters, already pulling out his phone. (Probably to text Connie, if he has to guess. Greg counts himself thankful that he has this solid friendship to help anchor him at such a difficult point in his life. Simultaneously, his heart aches knowing the stress that girl’s surely gone through by choosing to be a support for him.)

“How... erm, how’d it go?”

He gives him a big shrug, his fingertips blazing across the screen in an almost dizzying display of dexterity. “It went.”

Greg’s fingers rap against the sun-stained leather. “You still game for gettin’ some food?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

Okay. Good. Lunchtime is a go, then, he thinks, diverting his notice to the keys in the ignition. Despite this, there’s a shade of disappointment that tints the atmosphere within this space. Unable to shake the harrowing feeling that he failed some sort of unspoken test with his son, he starts the van and— mentally plotting a course to that good Thai place Steven discovered a few months back— carefully pulls out of the cramped parking lot onto the main road, hoping that this extension to their time together may eventually chip away at the ice that’s formed between them.

Some classic rock plays on the radio as he drives, a band Greg distantly recalls hearing via his classmates in high school but can’t remember the name of. The singer’s mellow tenor effortlessly fills the gaps left behind in their timid silence. Briefly glancing away from the road, he catches Steven’s fingers tapping against his phone to the beat as he waits for a reply to his text, lips drawn. It’s an almost minuscule display, so subtle that any untrained eye might miss it, but witnessing this proof that his son is still very much capable of finding pleasure in music, however small said source of pleasure may be, he can’t help but smile. Soon enough, he passes the crooked street lamp on the corner of Glover and 4th that he always uses as a mental marker when navigating around the small town of Seaside, and takes a quick left at the next stoplight. It’s funny... this place is only twenty or so miles away from home, but given gas costs and his habitual frugalness, he hasn’t explored this county enough over the years to form a good internal map beyond Beach City. Perhaps now, with his son coming to this town every week for therapy, that will change.

The song ends on a sleek guitar riff, and quickly transitions back to the station’s upbeat radio personality.

“You’re listening to Dragon’s Hoard FM, your home for all of music’s greatest treasures! Next up, a trip down memory lane... to a fan favorite from the 1971 best-selling artist... welcome to the party, Kerry Moonbeam.”

Static pours through his nerves as the next number begins to play, (why now, why now, what cruel cosmic timing is this??), robbing all sensation from his fingers. His knuckles grow uncharacteristically pale as he clutches at the wheel, wrestling for dominance.

“Looking for your place in the universe...”

He doesn’t dare shift his gaze from traffic this time, but all he can see in his mind’s eye is that glowing, nauseatingly bright pink. The unwavering tension hanging over them, thick as smog, as their conversation grows terse and grim. His son at the helm, the demons of their past steering their trajectory far out of anyone’s control, as— angered and upset over what he now accepts are entirely rational things— he openly calls out his failures, his lack of structure, lack of attention, his—

“Don’t you know the universe is looking too~ Looking for its place in yo—“

And with the twist of a knob, it’s over. Some local station replaces those tense airwaves, bringing him relief from tainted memory in an instant. His hand quivers as it returns to command of the wheel. In the passenger seat, Steven glances up from his text conversation with that instinctual concern he’s so prone to, eyes blown wide and colored with equal parts confusion and sympathy.

Notably, there’s not a sign of pink.

Swallowing hard, Greg considers saying something in explanation, but in the tangled complexity of their current relationship he can’t think of anything worth saying. Eventually, his throat runs dry in his own silence. His son stops gawking at him like another problem to be fixed, attention drifting back to his phone. His muscles loosen in sheer relief.

He sighs under his breath as he slows for a pedestrian at the crosswalk. Willfully, he buries himself in the mindless drivel of the local talk show he switched to for the rest of the drive, allowing their distant voices to cover the aching, lonely gap torn in his heart.

____

They put in their order when the waitress arrives, Steven settling on pad thai with egg and tofu, and Greg falling back on an old favorite with fried rice and pork. She jots this down on her notepad in a jiffy, pours them some water, then hurriedly scuttles behind the curtain that separates the kitchen from the remainder of the restaurant. It is the lunch rush, after all.

Thankfully though, even amongst the rush the two of them were lucky enough to be seated at a cozy table nestled against the back wall, affording them a decent amount of privacy. There’s enough ambient chit-chat bouncing around the room that Greg doesn’t feel eaten alive by that aching isolation he endured on the almost silent drive over, but not enough that these people’s presence feels suffocating. Steven slowly sips at his water as he politely listens to his updates on Sadie and Shep’s blossoming music career. He’s not saying much in response beyond asking the appropriate follow-up questions and then nodding his head at his answers, but in the end, that’s fine. Even if the recent lack of depth to their conversations bothers him, even if his son’s silence shatters his heart, in his mind it’s not fair to pressure him to interact in a manner he‘s not ready for yet. Greg just needs to be patient. He’ll open up to him when the time is right. There’s no need to push so hard that the remaining threads stringing their relationship together snap altogether, which is— if he’s honest— the future he fears the most.

The one where he becomes no better than his own over-controlling parents.

With his fingers obsessively rapping alongside the side of his glass, he continues to make substance-less small talk, anything to aid in the illusion that the two of them can still carry a conversation together.

“So yeah, that’s where they’re at right now,” he says. “They said they’re gonna put a pause on the touring, and start working on a full album.”

“Nice. Good for them,” Steven responds, the lines under his eyes betraying his underlying exhaustion, even if it appears he’s trying his hardest to mask it. (But for who’s sake?) “And you, you’re still gonna...?”

“Be their manager, yes. That’s still the plan.”

“Cool, cool.“

Their words fade amongst the ambient chatter, neither immediately leaping to comment further.

He softly clears his throat. “And, uh... in the end, I’ll be there whenever they need me, y’know? They might decide they want someone else supportin’ them along some day, and that’s fine.” He wrings his hands together atop the table, watching his son closely. “I only want the best for them.”

The teen’s hollow glance flits across the restaurant, landing from person to person, his leg bouncing nervously under the table all the while. Upon sensing this, it suddenly hits Greg that this is the first time Steven’s been out in busy public beyond the familiar faces of Beach City. For a second he can’t help but fret that all this activity— therapist’s waiting room, awkward car ride, going out to a busy restaurant at noon— will only serve to stress the poor kid out, but then again... pressing his silent worries onto the situation won’t help anyone. The only thing that’s important right now is for his son to know he’s always loved. Always heard, always seen, from this moment on.

After all his failures as a guardian in the years prior, it’s the least he can do.

And then, as Steven’s gaze shifts back into focus, Greg can wholeheartedly sense that he’s mentally engaged, delicate machinery in his mind whirring away as he processes every facet of this conversation, this moment, this place. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then opens his mouth to speak.

“With Sadie and Shep, well...” He scratches at the back of his neck, not quite sustaining eye contact. “I’m sure that... no matter what the future holds, they’ll always appreciate the support you did give them. Even if some of that support maaaybe wasn’t exactly what they needed at the time,” he adds as an afterthought, voice falling soft.

Something within his chest unshackles upon hearing these words, their double meaning more than clear to him. He blinks hard, desperately trying not to utterly break down in front of his own kid. “Steven, I—“

His attempt to piece together a heartfelt response is interrupted by the arrival of their lunch, steam wafting off each plate as the waitress sets them both on the table. They both offer their thanks, and unwind their utensils from their napkins. He’s quick to dig in to his fried rice and pork, having not eaten a full meal since last night. Steven, on the other hand, picks and prods at his entrée, something he’s noticed has become a concerningly common occurrence in recent weeks. He still eats, thank the stars, but not with zeal.

Greg is already midway through his plate before by the time his son‘s just started to put a dent into his own. The teen twirls his chopsticks around a clump of noodles and bean sprouts, seeming more lost in thought than usual. A moment passes, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak up, but quickly shuts it again.

His brow creases with equal parts worry and curiosity. “You got somethin’ on your mind, bud?”

Steven frowns, abandoning his otherwise proficient chopstick skills to stab the tip of one of them into a hunk of tofu. “I guess it’s just that... well... nothing about that appointment was what I expected,” he says, and lifts his utensil to take a bite.

“Oh, yeah?” he prompts, and leans into the table with a surplus of attentiveness. All the while, he’s waging a desperate internal battle not to seem like he’s clinging to his each and every word. (Just let him open up at his own pace, Greg. Don’t be suffocating. Encourage him, but give him time.)

“It wasn’t like, bad,” he murmurs softly, his blank gaze drifting across the ornaments and framed art strewn across the restaurant walls. “But we barely even talked about the last few months? I thought we would, but we didn’t. Instead, he just asked a lot of questions about you, the Gems, Beach City, what it was like growing up. Some clarification on the history of the Diamonds, and the war. I dunno,” he shrugs, and twirls his chopsticks through his pad thai again. “It was kinda strange.”

Greg reflects for a moment on his son’s words, recalling with a slight grimace the first conversation he and the Gems had with Steven about considering therapy. At first he was strongly resistant to the idea, almost indignantly so, claiming that he could “sort this all out by himself” given time, that no one could ever relate to his exact problems enough to be of any help, and that he didn’t want to make his stupid life someone else’s burden in the first place. And even when they managed to convince him to give it a try, he still admitted worry about finding someone who knew enough about Gems to be qualified to treat him. So in that case, he can understand if the teen feels a little nervous, being asked so many questions about his complex lineage.

“Yeah, I hear ya’,” he nods, and then— catching the inside of his cheek between his teeth, rapidly weighing the pros and cons of risking a more in-depth comment— “With what Dr. Maheswaran’s told me about therapy, though, that sounds about normal for a first session, for anyone.”

Steven visibly perks up, perhaps in relief that for once his experience isn’t a unique exception like many other things in his childhood... schooling, housing situation, etc. etc... have been.

“Really? What- what did she say about it?”

“Mostly that it’s important for therapists to build context so they can better understand their client’s current state, or something like that.”

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“In the end, you’re definitely not the only one in this boat, Schtu-ball. And that‘s gotta be a little reassuring, yeah?”

He smiles in response. It’s small, merely a slight upward tilt of his lip, but it’s there. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

____

Their conversation fades back into small-talk after that, but by that point Greg doesn’t feel so bothered. Instead, he feels as if a colossal weight’s been lifted from his chest. He’s not sure Steven fully understands the gift he’s given him today, opening up a little about his inner life after so many long weeks of self imposed silence, but the reassurance it’s offered about the state of their bond is astronomical. It promises healing, a brand new chance to listen and understand.

To change and grow in relationship together, father and son.

“Hey, Dad?” he asks hesitantly as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, bud?”

He diverts his attention from the dashboard for just a moment, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the teenager. Clutching their leftovers in his lap, Steven’s eyes land on the stack of CDs tucked into the door pocket.

“D’ya think we can listen to one of your albums on the way back?”

With a watery smile, he switches the van’s radio to disk mode.

“Take your pick.”

[reminiscingtonight]

I am so glad you reblogged that director's cut post bc I've been waiting for a chance like this. I am going to need your commentary on Last Kiss. Yes, it was posted forever ago, but it's still very much relevant today bc every once in a while I'll remember it and spiral into sadness. Kind of like I do whenever I watch Hawkeye and they mention Natasha. (You should probably study for your exams too, I suppose, bc priorities or whatever it is the adults say these days)

Ahhhh yes. Last Kiss. How could I forget about that story?

First commentary I have about this: It was only supposed to be one part. I talked about it in my author's note section, but I really just misread the prompt and missed the main part the requester asked for. So I wrote part 2 as a way to make up for that. Who knew everyone was going to keep asking for more parts?

Okay. Now onto the story.

I just remember having so much fun writing that first part (the part in italics). What I had basically done was write the ending of the story first. And then from there, I grabbed lines and mushed them together as the opening scene. I had so much fun picking and choosing which lines to combine in order to make the beginning very ominous. To me, mixing the italics and normal texts at the end just really added to the punch in the gut that was needed to tie everything up.

The airport scene. YIKES. I have no idea how long it took me to actually finish writing that part but I can tell y'all that it took a very very very long time.

The reader needed a best friend. If I need a best friend character I usually use Natasha if it's a Wanda x Reader fic. Why did I use Tony as the best friend? Because I needed the reader and Wanda to go to a party of some sort. That was the only reason why 😂

I'm rereading the story as I'm writing this commentary and DAMNNN what the fuck was I on. I'm reading it and going "wtf, why are the time jumps so freaking long." I faintly recall wanting to fill in those breaks with more scenes so the jumps weren't that far apart in time, but if I'm being honest, I think I just got burnt out and called it quits when I had the big parts all written out.

I fucking sobbed while writing the break up. I will willingly admit that. Sometimes the angst hurts me to write it as much as it hurts y'all to read it.

"You had everything planned out. But you never planned on Wanda changing her mind."  → this line!! This line is something I had planned since the beginning of the fic. Ignoring the fact that I misread the request, when I was listening to this song to write it, I just knew I had to add a line about someone changing their mind. The whole story was basically written around this one line

Okay, now that I'm done with the commentary, you might be wondering: "when the fuck will you finish part 6?????" It's alright, I ask myself this every time I open my drafts as well.

Here's where I'm at right now. I have the barebones directional outline of what happens in the story completely done. That part's about 1k. What do I have actually finished? The letter Wanda wrote to the reader (the one she ends up leaving in their old apartment). That's about it.

When’s the eta for when I’ll finish it? Answer: I honestly have no fucking idea. Life’s picked up since I originally began writing the story, so long story short, I just have other things going on in my life right now and don’t have enough time to put in enough mental power into writing a full fledge, multi-thousand word fic.

If people want, I can post my barebones outline so you get the gist of what the story is going to be about. But as for when I'll actually finish that story... it might take some time before I get to it.

Ask Me For A Director’s Commentary

[bearseokie]

dear readers and writers

— a little advice i wish i would have heard before i started this blog and writing in general. sorry i’m that writer that makes post like these, i just want you to understand that things like this change everything. if this looks like a lot, just find the ones that pertain to you.

writers

➤ 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝

there are so many good works that come from you focusing on the genres you are most comfortable with, and only writing those is not a bad thing. it’s not a “you’re not growing as a writer” situation, it’s a comfort zone situation. just because smuts do well doesn’t mean you have to force yourself to write them. just because angsts come in bulk because you can never ignore the emotional bits of writing doesn’t mean that has to be the main focus of every work. just because fluffs are the most reblogged content doesn’t mean it’s the only genre people will enjoy from you. focus on what you love, others will follow!

➤ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥

if you don’t consistently open your inbox, do it at least once. close it when you feel overwhelmed or at any time you feel necessary. don’t believe that you have to write them all in a short period of time. be statistical about it: only open it for a short game or blurbs. use the requests to fill in blanks or practice writing in different ways. play with the word counts. change up the tone. delete a few, you’re not obligated to actually write them, this is your free time and your work. but sometimes doing requests can change how you write, maybe even give you a breakthrough you wouldn’t have had with writing things from your own mind. and have fun.

➤ 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

filling the warnings up with silly little comments or parts from the story is important, too. even if it’s a paragraph’s worth of potential warnings or triggers, never skip adding them. even if you think it’s something not worth mentioning, it will be to someone. add as many as necessary.

➤ 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟏𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

word counts don’t determine how good of a writer you are. from brilliant blurbs with two paragraphs and one line of dialogue, drabbles with less than a thousand words, or full on double digits fics: what counts is that you enjoyed writing it. it made you excited. you paused just to mention to a friend how much you love writing it. you got chills piecing together that one line. that energy gets put through your work and into your reader, seriously.

➤ 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭?

everyone reads. anything. everything. you name it, one person’s read it. whether your confidence in your writing ability is low or not, the process will only benefit you. and you get to spend time writing about some of your favorite people/characters, it’s a win-win. it’s no competition, only a fun time that you get to create and share with the world. try it.

➤ 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

the more detail, the better the mental picture. if you read something and love visualizing every scene, hearing every line, then you should work for the same within your stories. close your eyes and put your scene into your surroundings, every little detail counts. and although i said word counts don’t mean anything, if your brain does focus on you having large word counts (it happens to every writer, big word counts make you feel cool for writing so much), then this is a sexy step to use because it heightens that number pretty quickly.

short sentences look weird, but are better than run-ons.

vocabulary is sexy and thesaurus dot com is your best friend. need a word but can only think of something similar, you’ll find it there. used the same word three times now and think you’re starting to look insane, you are, use your sources.

you don’t need a banner or aesthetics for everything you write. the writing does all of the work itself. don’t stress about the accessories.

burnt out on writing the same thing / can’t think of what else to put down? break time. take a tangent, write something else, cut it off there (maybe post it) and leave the rest for the future, the cliffhanger or abrupt ending will have everyone on the edge of their seats. you’re still doing well.

if you’re writing to gain a following or have extensive amounts of notes to brag about, you’re into writing fanfics for the wrong reasons. hoping for feedback is one thing, feasting for it as your only source of inspiration for writing is just hurting yourself and other writers in the long run. write for yourself and no one else.

writer’s block? hell if i know, i’ve had it since before i started writing.

readers

➤ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

a little feedback goes a mile. a simple emoji as a reaction, keyboard smashes, even tagging topical things can make a fanfic writer smile.

but long paragraphs also go a long way. imagine watching a movie you love to bits, so much so that you go online and read reviews of it. that commentary can shift the way you look at the movie forever, and stick with you during other films. it’s the same with receiving and reading feedback on fanfics. I’m not saying go crazy critical with your feedback, do not do that unless the writer says they want criticism, but maybe writing why you love one particular line so much could change the way the writer feels about the entire work or make a reader begin to love the same line so much that they quote it or recommend it. it makes a difference!

➤ 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬?

tell the writer. this isn’t an “i wrote this and it mentions all of these other things, so you should have expected this” game. if it bothered you, it will probably bother someone else, and that needs to be told to the writer. i don’t know what to tell you if a writer writes back being degrading or negative about your concern for that warning, but i promise you that most writers will not argue with whether it should be a warning or not and will just add it. do not be scared to mention something that triggered you if it was not mentioned in the warnings. also, please remember writers are humans and cannot think of everything all the time. we might miss one or two warnings within the work when writing the description, so please tell us.

➤ “𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.”

pain. straight pain. your reblog shares that post with your followers. you like it, why wouldn’t they? that reblog stays on your page, it’ll be seen. the tags you put in could help others find more works on your blog, essentially helping more works be found. maybe they’re old and haven’t seen the light of the recent tags in months, but your reblog could help more people still see it, and that makes a difference. we all have those lazy moments where we don’t want to do all of the steps, but even doing them sometimes helps.

➤ 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞?

readers can scroll through the list for their preferences, find new writers that amaze them, maybe they gain the courage to put together their own fic recs list. all of those recommended fics are still floating around and being shared, they don’t get lost in the tags or the writer’s masterlists. you find/make a recs list: congratulations, you’re contributing to helping fanfics thrive (as they deserve). also, who doesn’t love an entire list right in front of them so they don’t have to go on a scavenger hunt to find new things to read? answer: no one.

➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐞?

tags to organize, fics to go through/find/read, oh my. let me let you in on a little secret:

have you ever had that moment where you suddenly remember one line or scene from a fic you read months ago, and you have the vaguest details to go off of in order to search and find it? your fics recs blog would have you covered, just scroll through the feed or the tags and boom, it’s at your fingertips.

now imagine someone else looking for more fics to read stumbling upon your blog. might look a little strange and coded to them, but eventually they navigate and find a new fic they’ll be talking about for months. they reblog it, add their own feedback, their followers see it and join in, and that writer feels immensely appreciated all because you started a recs blog and just-so-happened to reblog their fic. tah dah.

➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐩?

well, so did i. i asked my followers on this blog and my recs blog to send in their favorite fics with some extra details and feedback thinking i wouldn’t get anything, but i got an entire list! guess what’s even better? that list went straight into the tags (thanks to tumblr working properly for once) and now anyone that searches up ‘kpop fic recs’ can find it at any time. same goes for your own. there’s no specific way of organizing a recs list, just make sure the links work and the writers are credited! it helps.

read more! it’s a vast world in your hands, enjoy the words that go along with it.

sorry for this technical rant/advice post, this has just been in me for a while and i wanted to talk about it. I might add more to this as things come up, but for now i hope this helps! <3

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (iii) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are open c:

chapter 3: when he sees me

“I read on the internet that if you boil the cutlery every night, you get rid of the germs that the soap alone couldn’t kill, plus it makes them extra shiny”. I enter the diner and meet Wanda’s voice, while she explains her late night research to Sam, he completely ignores her, but that’s good. Keeps him distracted from the fact that I’m-

“You’re late. You’re never late. What happened? Did Quentin pull an all nighter? I saw him at Phil’s Bar, you know? If you need me to talk to that piece of sh-” Sam has always been a little over protective of us girls.

“I’m fine, Sam. Sorry I’m late, the bus driver was falling asleep, and don’t worry, Quentin didn’t come home too late. There’s no need for you to talk to him cause he won’t listen anyway”.

“That’s right, he can’t hear a word I say cause his head has been stuck in his ass ever since that one hit wonder he wrote ten years ago played in the local radio station”. Sam says bitterly before he sips an equally bitter cup of black coffee.

“Hey! For your information, I helped write that song”. I smirk.

“Good morning to my ladies, and my ladies only”. Nat walks through the door, thirty minutes late. She must wanna get Sam angry on purpose at this point. She hugs Wanda and then me.

“No love for me?” Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. Yelling and cursing maybe, but not this.

“What is going on?” I ask Wanda but she shrugs, clueless.

Nat stops whatever truce she has with Sam, rolls her eyes at him and says something I can’t quite catch and asks.

“Sooo, Wands, did you do it?” 

“Do what?” I say.

“Call that mystery Jon Snow she met at the comic con last weekend! Come on! You said he was cute”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe he’s not into me and he was just being polite giving me his number. He was cute indeed, but his costume was really bad, I think maybe I should call him and ask who made it for him, since I made my own and he liked it so much, maybe I could help him out next year”.

“Already planning your one year anniversary? Ambitious. But sure! That’s a great excuse to start a conversation. What’s his name again?” I beg for information, since I’ve been left out of the weekend catch up, apparently.

“No, no. I don’t know girls. He might not like me. His name is Steve, by the way. But enough about me. How did it go with doctor Perkins?”

“It didn’t. She’s retired”.

“God bless her, we went to see her last year. Remember when Clint had the flu and he wouldn’t even eat? Doctor Perkins was there to see him cry when he got a shot on his bum. Poor woman”. Now that I see it, Nat never talks about her husband anymore. 

“And how’s Clint? I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever. Remind me to send some of my Couch Potato Pie to him, he always devoured it”.

“He’s busy all the time. I feel like I don’t see him that much either and we sleep in the same bed every night, isn’t that funny? But if Doctor Perkins is retired, then who saw you?” Nice deflect from the subject. Nat’s good at that.

“It’s a man, he’s new in town. A bit weird and awkward but he was nice”.

“Ooh a man, is he single? Might be good for Wanda”.

“Hehehe, no, no. I’m good, thanks”. The giggling mess of a girl leaves to get some more bottles of ketchup to clean.

“I think he mentioned a wife”.

“That’s too bad. Is he handsome though?”

“Nat, I just told you he has a wife”.

“Is he though? I’m just asking cause nothing happens in this town. If there’s a pretty new face out there I wanna look… respectfully”.

“Okay then”.

“Well? Is he pretty?”

“He is. Very. It’s distracting, I think I should look for another doctor”.

“Oh my god, Y/N don’t be dramatic, besides? What other doctor in town is gonna see you? Doctor Roberts? We all know he’s a perv. Take it easy, you’ve only been to one appointment. And you know, a little distraction is nice once in a while. If a nice looking doctor would want to do me a check-up I certainly wouldn’t mind!”

Well, she has a point.

-

I’m leaving late again tonight. It’s just that, ever since I got the official news of my pregnancy, I can’t seem to tolerate Quentin’s cologne mixed with his usual beer and peanuts scent. Just thinking about it makes me sick, and I can’t risk it. If he suspects something’s up I’ll have to tell him the truth, he always calls me out on my bullshit when I try to lie.

I like having this for myself for now. I’m starting to like the idea of having this baby. I know I wasn’t the most thrilled mother at the beginning but, a piece of myself is growing inside of me. I really hope they like to bake when they grow up, I could teach them all I know. It could be our thing.

-

“Guys!!! Guys, guys guys, guys. I texted Steve!” Wanda comes into the diner yelling and almost trips over the counter.

“Jesus, woman, breathe. Who is Steve?” Sam’s intrigued, but also annoyed.

“Oh I think you actually know him Sammy, it’s Steve!!! The blonde cutie with gorgeous eyes who owns the video store”.

“Oh yeah! We used to play videogames at his house back in High School cause he had all the good ones”.

“So? Did he respond? Do tell!!” I’m excited for Wanda, she’s only a couple years younger than me and Nat but she’s like our little sister. She started working at the diner four years ago and I’ve never seen her date anyone.

“Yes, yes! He said he wants to take me out. Oh my god, I think I might have a panic attack. I don’t think I should go, should I? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he gets to know me and he’s disappointed? I know I looked amazing at the Con last weekend but that’s because I was wearing that wig, you know, the pretty one with the celtic braids? But without my gorgeous Ygritte costume I’m just- me. What if when he sees me, he runs the other way?” She deflates on the booth she was cleaning and Nat and I silently decide it’s time to talk some sense into her. My turn first.

“Listen, sweetie. You’re a gorgeous woman, with and without those beautiful outfits you create and wigs, or even with this dirty apron, he would be stunned by your beauty. Plus, once he gets to know you, he won’t be disappointed!” 

“How do you know?! I don’t even know what I would say to him, you guys, should I make some flashcards?” She lives for the drama, but this time she really needs some reassurance. Nat goes now.

“You have an extensive knowledge of Game of Thrones, you can share that with him. He owns a video store and you love movies and videogames, you’ll never run out of things to say, and you are so funny and charming he’ll fall for you instantly!”

“Hear me out, Wanda. I’ll bake you a pie to bring him on your date. Nat will help you get all dolled up and you and Steve are gonna have a great time together, alright?” I say to her, getting up and already planning a recipe in my head.

“Oh Y/N, that’s very sweet of you, thank you! Whatchu gonna put in that pie, can I help?” 

“I’ll make it extra special with some spices that will enchant his belly and his heart! I’ll call it Falling in love chocolate mousse pie!”

If I can’t have my fairytale romance with the happy family and the white picket fence, I might as well make damn sure that Wanda gets hers.

And while I try to sort out whether I’m staying in my messy marriage and how I’m gonna cope with this unexpected pregnancy, I’ll just bake, bake, bake. It’s all I can do to keep myself and this little nugget inside of me afloat. In the meantime, staring at my cute obgyn won’t hurt anybody, will it?

-

chapter 4: it only takes a taste

-

pls reblog if you liked it c:

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 10: Old Love, New Love, Is This True Love

All right, so...like I said, work has picked up and my eyes feel like old marbles from staring at numbers (the woes of working in accounting I guess) so I want to get this written up and tossed into the nether before I lose steam and motivation to do it. The interesting thing about these little write-ups is that as the week goes on they just get harder and harder to write...

I do apologize in advance to those who like the long-winded write-ups. I’m just not up to it at the moment. Still feeling kind of bleh from the episode.

Let’s go back to an old format, shall we?

The Good

We might as well start out with the things about this episode that I enjoyed! 

Gossip Hour with the Men was one of the best openers they’ve had on the show in a while. It was genuinely funny without being meanspirited. Nobody looked like the bad guy. Everyone just calmly talked about it alike it was a normal thing to maybe call off the wedding. Bill calling out Carson for giving marriage advice was pretty funny, Mike was a delight. I don’t know what to say. I’d watch a whole episode of The Boys just hanging around spending time together.

--

Florence’s worry that she’s ugly was...not a terrible idea for a storyline, but the actress is too good-looking to pretend to be ugly (I saw her in this pretty yellow dress on Instagram a couple years ago and she was smashing)? Also, it’s not like Ned is a handsomely aged gentleman (like Henry lol) so it makes even less sense for the characters. I think they should have gone with Florence feeling she’s “plain” and that dressing up Super Nice makes her feel uncomfortable because she just doesn’t feel like Herself and worries maybe it’s projecting a false sense of Who She Is or something? I guess overall I still liked that an attempt was made to add some depth to Florence and her difficulties in choosing a dress/hairstyle, so...it goes here.

--

Ned asking Henry to be his best man was nice, too. I can forgive the shoddy pacing and weird placement of this request (like I do with almost everything in the show) but only because the scene was just...so incredibly wholesome. 

I like how Henry just casually is like, “Well maybe today’s just not the day.” I think it eased Ned’s mind just a little that he CAN back out if he really wants to.

I think it’s worth thinking about the fact that Ned and Henry would have always worked very closely, since the mercantile would have been a company store before the mine closed down... I like Henry and Ned as pals.

--

I’m glad the “investment” thing with Jesse and Clara’s savings was brought up in a way that...makes sense. And also, glad it wasn’t forgotten.

--

I really liked Molly and Florence in this episode. I’m a little sad Florence married Ned because I AM SORRY BUT I WANTED TO KEEP SHIPPING MOLLY AND FLORENCE TOGETHER UGHGHGHH

But their relationship is so good and maYBE Elizabeth will learn something from them.

Hey Elizabeth...you see that?

YOU SEE THAT?

Just saying.

And then later...

“You are the sister I never had, the mother I forever wanted, the friend I have always needed. From the depths of those dark and terrifying coal mines you’ve walked beside me, picking me up whenever I’ve stumbled along the way.”

AAAAAAAAA IT GOT ME.

--

I’m...really liking Fiona and Mike’s relationship, whatever it is. I kind of think they’re not headed toward anything romantic. Everyone thinks Mike is really into Fiona but at the end of the episode we realize he likes talking to her about business; it’s almost like they have this shared passion for numbers/ideas and he likes infodumping to her (and vice-versa).

I think they’re going to end up being “just friends” and Fiona will end up paired off with the man Elizabeth doesn’t choose. They hinted at Nathan briefly in this episode (with Allie’s hair), but who knows? I’m over trying to speculate on where the triangle is going at this point, but I actually like Fiona’s relationship with Mike so much that I’ll be disappointed if she fades into the background with Nathan or Lucas. Mike deserves more screentime. 

--

Ned and Florence sharing their fIRST KISS. My husband got emotional over this. And I admit, it was starting to get to me, too. I can’t NOT root for them. 

--

I said it before and I’ll say it again: I WOULD DIE FOR THE CANFIELDS.

--

The wedding was nice. I liked that Bill and Joseph officiated it together; it gives Joseph a li’l trial run of pastoring and finally Bill gets to use some of that power of his to officiate a wedding.

“Please, if you’d like” is such a Bill way to say that they may kiss LOL.

--

Also, I have to admit that I did enjoy Lucas calling Nathan out about Allie. She wouldn’t be caught in the middle if he’d leave Elizabeth alone AND HE IS RIGHT LMAO.

The last good thing: Elizabeth telling Nathan she doesn’t blame him for Jack’s death. Nice. Good. Thank you. He probably needed to hear that.

--

...THE BAD

Carson and Faith. UGH. UGHHHHHHHHHH. BREAK UP ALREADY I HATE YOU BOTH.

I appreciated that Carson had the ring ages ago, and I did like his conversation with Minnie—or more accurately, her advice to him. I felt like she was nudging him toward, “Remember why you became a surgeon in the first place.” If he became a surgeon to help people, then there’s no reason he can’t help people where he is. Sure, he might not be doing state of the art procedures but with Faith working alongside him, he can afford time to learn new things and go to doctor conventions or even take a specialized class now and then. No other doctor could get away for very long but he has that chance!

And he’ll arguably be doing more good in the middle of nowhere than in the city. All the doctors want to live in the city. Nobody wants to barely get paid for their time in the countryside.

We had a whole episode that made it clear that Faith and Carson don’t make a lot of money and do a lot of charity work. They also work for trade goods (mostly food). So it’s like...a pretty big difference in lifestyle? 

Half the reason I can’t get invested in these characters is because I really can’t stand Paul Greene. He just...annoys me on every single level imaginable. But he’s a decent actor and I can’t help but feel that his character was a massive waste of space for the past few seasons through no fault of the man himself. Imagine introducing a character like Carson and then leaving him to rot before you try to make him interesting with a romance plot that nobody asked for.

Yes, some people really like Faith and Carson, but as a whole I think the fandom didn’t buy into them as a ship due to the lack of chemistry.

It really is a shame. This episode didn’t do a thing to endear me to either character. Please, Carson. I am begging you to leave town.

--

This one particular line of dialogue almost enraged me.

WE KNOW WE KNOW WE KNOW WE KNOW WE CAN SEE THAT FOR OURSELVES. WHY DID THEY HAVE ROSEMARY SAY THIS LIKE IT’S AN EPISODE OF A CHILD’S TV SHOW?

--

Elizabeth.........

How could Katie have...looked up to her? She was never in her class? That was? Never part of anything? It was just something they threw in here to force Elizabeth to make 1% more sense in the role she’s in but IT STILL DOESN’T WORK.

I felt like I was back in Season 5 again with Lori and Elizabeth putting their nose in everyone’s business except it’s just Elizabeth!! The whole plot, which was boring and contrived anyway, should have gone to Molly, since she’s Florence’s best friend and another woman from town that Katie would have known as a child.

AND ALSO, MOLLY WOULD HAVE KNOWN KATIE’S MOTHER AND WOULD REMEMBER THE GRIEF THAT NED STRUGGLED WITH.

I know they wanted to make Elizabeth give advice so that she’d Realize that she needs to, I don’t know, make better choices or something, but it was too on the nose for me and I hated it.

GinithePooh on Reddit made a good comparison to Elizabeth in this episode by saying she reminded them of Clippy from Microsoft Word, always popping up and offering to help when nobody really needs or wants advice.

To honor their incredible idea, I opened Photoshop and created this gem, which I will also be posting separately so that people can reblog it if they wish to.

I also don’t think I need to say also filed under The Bad is the fact that Elizabeth didn’t even apologize for being awful to Rosemary and then gave her unsolicited advice to other people for two days straight. I can’t believe they wrote that? 

All I can say is that her apology to Rosemary, when it comes, better be good.

--

And I didn’t like this either:

I wish it had been followed up by literally anything: Nathan saying he’s sorry he didn’t tell her sooner or something to make the hand-holding actually be a little more innocent.

As it is, it just seems so deliberate? 

Maybe the next episode starts off right in this scene and we’ll get that? If so, this might actually end up being fine. I just don’t think it is if it doesn’t get a little more direct attention.

--

& THE UGLY

I debated on putting anything in here, because I’m not ready to talk about my feelings on this matter, at least not fully. But I’ve been pretty quiet all season so far, and...eh, why not just mention things in advance? What will it hurt?

Let me preface this section by saying I’m biased and I doubt hardly anyone on this site will agree with me, so feel free to just ignore this part if that’s the case.

There are two things that I really didn’t like in this episode.

I hate the slanting toward Bill/Molly.

I like Molly just fine but I don’t like her with Bill. I’m biased as all getout and also worried about the future/potential Season 9 with regards to this. I don’t want to see it. Like at all. Why, you ask? You should know why if you follow me. I’m super transparent.

It’s because I like AJ AND I WANT HER BACK LOL.

John Tinker rewatched the series so we know he wouldn’t have missed that hanging plot thread—especially since he didn’t forget any of the other things that were brought up this season! So why didn’t she appear this season? The love triangle absolutely needed to be a focus or it would have never ended, so that’s part of it, but I’m also pretty sure Josie Bissett wasn’t interested in doing any filming last year during Covid. My only “proof” is that Wedding March 6 wasn’t filmed last year even though it was scheduled to be filmed, but it makes sense. Last year was chaos.

THAT SAID, Jack Wagner posted on his Instagram the other day that they are actually filming Wedding March 6 now, so... I guess AJ’s re-appearance in Season 9 wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if they wanted to write it.

You’d think I’d be hyped about that, and I kind of am? But it doesn’t come without its share of worries, too. We just had the worst love triangle in the history of love triangles and I really don’t want another one, especially if it makes any of the characters in question look stupid or mean.

I fully admit a well-written love triangle could be a LOT of fun for them* (low stakes because they’re not front and center characters), but I saw how Nathan was written so far this season and I really, REALLY do not want to see that happen to Molly, Bill, or AJ.

Anyway, not a fan of the Molly/Bill stuff. No chemistry. I don’t want it.

*I would totally write a fanfic like this lmao.

--

And finally...the part that everyone will hate me for:

I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ABIGAIL COME BACK. And I specifically do not want her to come back ‘cause I do not wanna see Henry/Abigail happen.

I fully recognize that a lot of you like it and ship the heck out of it, and that’s...good. I’m glad you enjoy it. I loathe it, though, and I worry that all these hints (more like...mentions) are leaning toward...something. Like, either they’re:

1) Sending Abigail off/tying up that loose end with Henry (since nothing was ever clarified either way), or

2) Warming up the audience to receive Abigail back on the show.

I’m pretty into the idea of one-sided Henry/Abigail. Hindsight is 20/20, regrets, that’s all some juicy stuff to give a character like Henry. Some things can’t ever be made right again. He had too direct of a connection to the death of her husband and son for me to ever want to see them together. Forgiveness? Yes. A careful but meaningful friendship? Yes. Romantic relationship? Uh...no thanks.

I liked the Abigail mentions at first because I felt like...the character still mattered (as she should) but I’m at a point where I feel like they’re trying really hard to steer the fandom’s view a certain way and not knowing where it’s going is extremely unsettling to me.

--

I’ll probably talk more about the things that bother me when the season ends, because I’m hoping to have a better idea of where things are going to be headed, but for now just...know that I feel very apprehensive.

And keep in mind that I primarily watch this show for Bill these days, since all my previous faves (AJ, Frank, the old Abigail, Dottie) have exited, stage left. I also always really liked seeing Henry. So as you can imagine, seeing plotlines I hate for the only two characters I’m invested in? Is making me consider dropping the series next year.

My husband told me I should hate-watch it, but I don’t know if my heart can take it. I’ve been following this series for so long...it just...kind of hurts to feel let down like this? 

But sometimes an ongoing series ends up going where you...didn’t want it to, and it becomes something that’s no longer right for you. I hope that doesn’t happen, but last night’s episode makes me feel like...it might be happening for real this time.

I guess if that holds true it’ll be back to fanfiction for me. Will that novelization I planned ages ago end up getting written? Will I write the best love triangle fanfic known to man? WHO KNOWS.

For now, we’ll all have to wait and see! Two more episodes left. I’m really curious to see how they resolve some of the open plots right now. :>

[dreamingofscully]

5x20. “The End” - X-Files Rewatch

A little missing scene fic I wrote to accompany this episode: [INTRUSION] / Read on AO3 / rated T / M/S UST / Diana / Multiple POV, Drabble, Missing Scene / The first interactions between Mulder/Scully/Diana after the conference room scene. Also, how did Diana end up in the back seat of their car?

Anyway, on with the episode! I have quite extensive analysis about Diana & Mulder, Scully's jealousy and the MSR. Probably one of my longest posts yet. Hope you enjoy! Comments, reblogs and tag comments are love!  ❤️

***

Cute lil' Gibson. Love him so much. ❤️

Mulder and Scully's picture in their office.

What is Mulder hoping to find?

Mulder isn't sure, beyond "The Truth". His sister, of course, but overall?

Scully can't live with ambiguity like that - that their investigations will continue forever with no end goal, because there is no end goal in Mulder's mind. She needs more certainty, something solid.

If Mulder reaches the end of the work - does he lose Scully? (This theme is addressed in Fight the Future.)

Mulder's face when he sees Diana.

He's not angry, just shocked. They didn't leave on necessarily bad terms, at least in his mind. He probably blames himself, as he usually does. (MORE AT THE END.)

"There were things at home I decided I wanted to get back to."

Diana's assumption that she can have Mulder when she gets back. There's no idea that he's changed or doesn't want her any more.

Scully is confused. Why are they giving this woman a ride? Why is she being included in something that was normally just something she shared exclusively with Mulder? She's jealous, possessive, at least when it comes to Mulder.

Their positions entering Gibson's room: Mulder, Scully, Diana.

The whole mind-reading scene.

I think Mulder is thinking about Diana, just because she's turned up and it's so weird for him. He also has the annoying tendency to take Scully for granted sometimes. 😥

It could be either Diana or Scully thinking about Mulder, maybe both. Gibson is a troll. Both of them have Mulder on their minds - perhaps Diana is a bit more overt, though. Scully is good at compartmentalizing and would try to focus on the case despite the strange woman intruding on her territory.

That Mulder doesn't want Gibson to say who is thinking about him. He thinks its Diana, of course, and he does NOT want Scully to know about her yet. He wants to delay any explanations for as long as possible. Why? He's never told Scully about Diana. His feelings for Scully, his thoughts about their relationship... they're in a very delicate position and his ex showing up throws things completely off-balance.

Diana peeking in on Mulder and Scully's argument/discussion MAKES ME RAGE.  😡

Scully's look when Diana speaks. Like... who gave you permission to enter this conversation, Diana? Certainly not Scully.

Mulder giving Diana the "authority" to do the testing over Scully.

He obviously knows her strengths, what she's capable of. Still hurts.

Scully's "So you two know each other." and Diana's obtuse "It was a long time ago." OOF.

That Diana knew Mulder before Scully, does she feel that gives her some special advantage? She's trying to assert herself, get some of the power she feels she lost from their previous interactions.

Mulder's so transparent. He's SOOOOO uncomfortable with Scully knowing Diana.

Why would it be awkward unless he feels guilty or some strange sense of betrayal?

Why would he feel that way about a past relationship unless he was thinking about deepening the one he has with Scully?

Scully holding Gibson's hand. ❤️

Gibson the little troublemaker.

Telling Scully she's thinking about Diana and Diana is thinking about Scully.

Scully finding out more about Mulder and Diana.

Her jealousy is written ALL OVER her face.

That Diana is more similar to Mulder

Scully can't help but feel insecure, that Mulder would favour a partner like Diana instead of her. 😥

I love how excited Frohike is to see Scully. ❤️

When going to the LGM, she says : "Analyze the data … with an eye to the parapsychological."

Does Scully feel she needs to be more open-minded because she feels threatened? She needs an advantage.

Frohike looks very uncomfortable when Diana is brought up. What does he know that the other gunmen don't? Maybe Frohike knows exactly the predicament that Mulder is in regarding his feelings for Scully, and whatever issues Mulder dealt with about Diana.

Byers' "I always wondered why they split up." Oh he is so clueless. Scully's face. Her emotional, roughened voice. She's not dealing well with this new info.

That he was in a romantic relationship with Diana, while working with her. She’s probably thinking: maybe Diana is the reason that her and Mulder haven't had anything happen between them, why he's rejected her over and over? He doesn't feel that way about her, he's been pining over this other woman. Who will now replace her not only in a romantic sense (that she never had but she perhaps thought might have been possible) but also in a professional one.

Scully heading to the Gunmen's to fact-find about Diana is pretty cute in a heartbreaking way. Scully brings something for them to look at, but she is also there to grill them about Diana. I think her evasiveness about her reason for being there might be pretty telling to the Gunmen (Frohike, at least), and they might suspect some sort of jealousy on her part.

Mulder's chatty when there's only one of them.

Diana is DEFINITELY trying to manipulate Mulder away from Scully. "I sense you could have used an ally, though – someone who thinks like you, with some background."

Mulder's defense of Scully: "I've done okay without you."

Diana's "Hey ... I’m on your side." and taking his hand. This just screams manipulative to me. Also, this seems like a strange phrase to use. She’s trying to convince herself as much as she is Mulder.

Scully seeing the handhold.

Walking away, trying to recover from whatever it was that she thinks she saw. Some sort of intimate moment - after learning about their past. Diana seems to want to rekindle things, but where does Mulder stand?

The scene in the car is just heart-wrenching. The deep sigh, the tears in her eyes.  😥

Then, Scully proving to a roomful of agents why she's been the BESTEST PARTNER EVER. TAKE THAT STUPID FOWLEY. (I’m not biased, I swear.)

Mulder's so happy and proud that people are seeing how awesome Scully is. ❤️

Scully dropping the "five years" that she's worked with Mulder to Diana and talking about proof.

Diana's criticism: "How do you quantify the spiritual? It can’t be done." Trying to undermine the importance of what Scully's learned, what she's given Mulder.

Diana frames her argument as being concerned with the X-Files being shut down. So what? Is Mulder just supposed to ignore the incredible evidence so he can continue his endless pursuit of nothing? Never wanting proof or anything concrete, just happy to gather stories and have faith in unprovable beliefs?

The similarity to the beginning with Skinner - what does he want? Does he want proof or does he want to endlessly investigate cases and learn interesting things but never actually accomplish anything? Does he want Scully's way, or Diana's?

Scully's white suit vs Diana's black one. Just sayin'.

MULDER DOESN'T ULTIMATELY CARE ABOUT THE X-FILES IF HE CAN GET PROOF. HE CHOOSES SCULLY.

Pre-Scully, would Mulder have thought the same as Diana? Probably. But now his beliefs have shifted. It doesn't matter what he has if he doesn't have the foundation, the basis in reality - to back them up.

Mulder has GROWN. He's changed so much since Scully's come into his life.

Time for Scully to do the same.

CSM back to his old tricks. They wanted him back so he could assassinate - but he's just a tricksy manipulator who takes pleasure in tearing hope away from people at the last minute. He's a cat playing with a mouse before he breaks it’s neck.

Scully's wearing a lot of skirts this season. ❤️

Gibson's "They’re so worried about what other people are thinking when the people they’re worrying about are worried about the same thing. It makes me laugh."

Scully's worried about Mulder, and Mulder's worried about Scully.

"No, you don’t care what people think. Except for her. The other one." - Gibson

Scully does what's right no matter the consequences. That's why she's still with Mulder. But Diana, she has no idea what to do there.

Diana falling asleep while watching Gibson. So she's incompetent, too? Cool cool cool. 😡

Scully at Mulder's apartment. Skinner knowing she's there.

She went home after finding out Diana was shot/after finding the sniper assassinated. Changed and came to Mulder's apartment. Why? To be there for him. Maybe she heard about Jeffrey Spender and his threats.

"I'll be here if you need to reach me." - Scully

Staying with him, helping him through whatever he's thinking; that they've lost not only the proof but the X-Files as well. Maybe their partnership.

Scully feels guilty. Mulder sided with her, chose her proof despite the warnings from Diana. And the consequences she mentioned are all coming true. Maybe she's not good for him anymore, maybe she is HOLDING HIM BACK. Her thoughts, her guilt that she expresses in Fight the Future start here.

The ending.

Holding onto Mulder while he stands there, stoic and unresponsive.

First, he lost his proof, his answers. Then, his life’s work. What’s left?

Scully’s reaching out, but he's folded into himself.

I like how this episode seems to end with Scully embracing Mulder - trying to hold onto him while he is the stoic and standoffish one. Seems like this whole episode, from an MSR perspective, has been about Scully's emotions surrounding their relationship, trying to hold onto Mulder, who she feels is slipping away. Holding tight to the idea of THEM when she's not sure there has ever been the possibility of a THEM.

***

MY DIANA THEORIES

Diana

She helped CSM when he was shot in Redux II: in exchange, he'd find a way for her to return and get Mulder back

She returns at the same time as CSM; at the beginning all she's told is that she can have Mulder (yes, like an object), nothing much about Scully except that she's his partner and they AREN'T involved

She's shot, why? To show her that CSM can do what he wants with her, that he OWNS her; she's cured quickly, by HIM: tells her she's going to be working on the XF with his son and her only objective is to get Mulder to turn against Scully or at least put a wedge between them

CSM knows that the MSR is the reason why his repeated attempts at turning Mulder have failed. Mulder's changed, he no longer can be manipulated by people as easily. Scully is his conscience, his integrity. As long as they are together, Mulder in invulnerable.

Diana is the perfect way to disrupt the relationship. She's been working with the Consortium, and she can (or at least used to be able to) wrap Mulder around her finger.

Diana/Mulder Relationship

They had an on-again, off-again relationship ever since he was out of the academy (Gunmen)

Diana was manipulative but loved him in her own way. She feels entitled to him. She assumes he will come running back to her because he always did it before.

From my Kill Switch post: Diana made Mulder wear the ring to 'claim' him, she was pretty possessive of him. They didn't actually get married until after they discovered the X-Files. And that was sort of a last ditch effort by Mulder to keep her, since she was getting impatient with his obsessive focus on the X-Files. She left anyway shortly after, sent the annulment papers by mail for some bogus reason that she guilted him into agreeing with. I don't think Mulder was ever in a healthy relationship with someone who was unselfish and truly cared about him until Scully (and even that isn't quite healthy in some ways, but at least she cares for him).

Mulder feels responsible for losing Diana, that it was all his fault for the relationship failing. He's avoided romantic entanglements since then. He SPECIFICALLY refused to entertain the idea about loving Scully because of this history.

He doesn't harbour any negative feelings towards Diana, or feel that she did anything wrong.

I have some ideas of what she said to him to get him to agree to the annulment and they'd probably fuck him up; this goes beyond speculation and into fanfic territory so I won't get into it here. Nevertheless, he feels like he's shit at relationships, that if he were to try to become involved with Scully in that way that she'd leave him because of it. He always loses those he loves, and it's always his fault.

[outroshooky]

hiatus notice.

hi friends,

this is the first time i’m struggling to word a hiatus post, because i’m struggling to believe that this is the right thing for me right now. however, at the end of the day, i need to prioritize my overall health above writing and this blog; thus, i need to take a break from being on here.

life right now feels overwhelming. quarantine and pandemic aside, there is a lot going on in my personal life now that i’m home all the time. i’ve been in a depressive state for a few days; getting out of bed is hard. i’m starting to lose touch with my sense of self, much less the motivation to sit down and write. i need to take time to remember what it’s like to want to write instead of feeling that i need to produce something for readers. if you’d like to read more on this + what i foresee for this little blog, please feel free to continue below the cut. to keep the notice itself short, i’ll end it here.

mutuals, feel free to reach out to me on kakaotalk / line / discord / whatever social media you’re comfortable with so we can keep our conversations going. you are the reason i haven’t gone on hiatus sooner; i adore all of you to the ends of the earth and back.

my plan is to be gone for a few weeks, to give myself a breather and not feel the need to compulsively write for the sake of putting something out there. in the meantime, my blog will be running on a queue. when i come back, we’ll take things from there and see how it goes.

thank you for understanding.

callisto

hello to my friends who have kept reading,

as i stated before, life right now feels incredibly overwhelming. i live in new york, which is one of the centers of the pandemic here in the united states. life has been uprooted for all of us; i have lost out on my senior year of high school because of it. our trip to disney, the penultimate experience for my high school and the culmination of four years of hard work, was canceled. bts postponed; ab6ix concert canceled. spring concert, canceled. finals canceled (a miracle), graduation likely postponed, a pre-college program i’ve been looking forward to for two years, canceled. i lost my job, one that i loved with all of my heart, and now a simple trip to the grocery store has become an expedition in itself. i know i’m not the only one. we all have our stories, the things we’ve lost. it’s okay to admit that that hurts too, losing these things that we looked forward to, that we wanted so desperately. 

it’s hard to write stories full of joy when you yourself are not so joyous. perhaps that’s where my writer’s block is coming from; no halo was a very cathartic piece for me for that reason. i was supposed to put out a soulmate!yoongi au that is nothing but pure fluff, but i struggle to envision it when even in my nightmares, i’m screaming at people to stay six feet away from me. i wanted to give you guys something positive to read, to place yourselves in during this time of struggle for everyone. i still want to do that, but i’m not in a good place mentally to do so, and my health will always take priority over my writing.

i see each of my notifications, regardless if it is someone liking a post or reblogging a fic or tagging me in a follow forever. i check every one of them because they matter to me; you guys matter to me in a very special way. each notification is a person, someone somewhere around the world who has been touched by the content i put on this blog. that is something to be celebrated. each note is a person who has felt a certain way because of something i said or wrote or commented on. this to be said, i feel very guilty when i can’t deliver on something i promised, that people were looking forward to, and i deeply regret that i have not yet finished a series for all of my two years on this blog. i haven’t been able to deliver on those promises, and it eats away at me; then i get writer’s block and we’re back where we started.

this leads into my next point. verses and vibes will not be finished on time; in all honesty, i’m not sure if i will finish it at all. perhaps i will push it back a few months to allow myself a breather, to work on other content that is more spur-of-the-moment. i always want to give you guys the most authentic version of myself along with the most authentic fics that come from a place in my heart, works i have an emotional stake in. i will always hold myself to that; unfortunately, that means my original promise from months ago may change because i myself have changed. i want to finish v&v; it’s a series i’m proud of and one that has helped me grow as a writer. i as an author want to see it through, but i need to decide what will be best for me as a person. 

on the idea of authenticity comes another concept i’ve been grappling with. my relationship with bts has changed; something i have been trying to ignore for months now, hoping it was where i was at in life and i just didn’t have enough time to follow them. i don’t believe that’s the case anymore. love yourself era was exactly what i needed to hear at that point in my life, a journey i followed with them because i had nothing to lose and nowhere else to turn. the ship sailed and i was on board, but when we came back to port, i stepped off to get some refreshments and it seems to have sailed off without me. i feel like i’ve been left behind somehow― like everybody else learned to love themselves but here i am in my little corner, still struggling to do so. something happened between the summer and the start of school; i think it was their hiatus that really deepened that divide. they needed it, god; they work so hard for us. but it split something in me, and i’m not quite sure if i can get that thing back. i’m telling myself that this feeling is short-term, that they are the same guys i’ve seen in concert four times in two years; that they’re just a hop, skip, and jump across the world and they have their days, too. i’m not so sure if what i’m telling myself is the truth.

if i come to a point where i realize, okay, i don’t want to pursue this anymore; this chapter of my life can end, i will stop writing for bts. however, unless something dramatic happens, i will not deactivate this blog. readers, i want you to continue to have access to my content if it is something you enjoy and something that brings you comfort. i will also stay on tumblr, but simply move to a new blog that is more focused on the other groups i follow (svt/ab6ix). i will also take my current ideas/wips and tailor them for seventeen, writing for ot13 full-time. this is a long-term plan; i don’t expect this to happen immediately, but i want to lay this out for you now so you have an idea of what is in my future. i will obviously post updates about this when it happens and give forewarning so you can find me wherever i end up. editor’s note: i am not moving blogs right now. this is just an idea of what may happen in the future.

this has been on my mind for many months, but i haven’t felt ready to sit down and confront it until now. please be assured, friend, that i haven’t been forced to post any fics that i haven’t wanted to. i genuinely enjoy writing for you and sharing my works with you; merely, i want to make sure that what i’m giving you is from my heart in every way possible. i will always live out my truth unapologetically (curse my aries ass).

this letter is a long but necessary one. it feels so good to finally speak about this after pondering it for so long, wondering if it was right to put it all out there. thank you for reading it, for sticking in there till the end. i won’t be gone for long. stay healthy and stay safe, friend.

all my love,

callisto

[myrhymesarepurer]

i wrote something. for the first time in like a year. and it only took like 5 hours.

a/n that’s pretty big for me so I thought i’d post. its ittle. if you have an idea for a title, reblog with it in the tags.

pairing royai, havolina  genre pretty fluffy hopefully witty

______________________________

Riza cleared her throat in front of a room of tables, seated with people slightly too tipsy to be acceptable at a wedding. Everyone in attendance, of course, had the decorum and courtesy to pretend like they were perfectly sober - or at least close to it. Everyone did so out of respect for the bride and groom. All except the Mustang Unit positioned behind her with the wedding party, hooting and hollering as she stepped up to the microphone.

I mean. The encouraging applause was appreciated, but the brief chant - Hawk-eye, Hawk-eye, Hawk-eye - was frankly unnecessary.

She held up a hand. They all quieted as best the could, knowing it was an order.

“As professional and reserved as my many know me to be,”   Riza said, sighing, “It may come as a surprise that I care, very deeply.”

She held her hand up again, silencing the collective awwwww at her back.

“It is my job to care for others, as a soldier, as well as my pleasure as a human.” She cocked her head in thought, “Of course, some make it more difficult than others.”

The rowdy response behind her as Havoc reached across Breda to punch the General Mustang’s arm told her that her little joke was well received. Roy glared at his men, but lost his focus quickly to Riza in the middle of the room brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

It was so strange how the back of her neck could be pretty? It was puzzling, to be sure. Roy grimaced and threw back his champagne prematurely.

“Rebecca Catalina, our bride here today-,” Riza turned to her friend, already in tears, dabbing at her eyes in an attempt to keep her flawless makeup from smearing.

Riza huffed a laugh and gazed at her fondly.

“She is one of the only people in my life who has insisted on caring for me. Outside of combat. No matter how much I resist.” Riza chuckled, “Forcing me to buy groceries, begging me to not work on weekends, and ‘Riza Hawkeye, this is way too much Xingese takeout for one person to consume in a week. I don’t care how busy you are.’”

Light, laughter bubbled through the room, quickly ebbing into a sentimental silence.

Riza swallowed tightly.

“Rebecca, I am elated that you now have a most honorable someone,” she looked to Jean Havoc, arm slung over his bride’s chair, grinning widely as his blue eyes became dangerously misty.

“-that can forever nag you like you nag me.“ Riza smiled warmly. 

The rooms’ laughter melted into applause. Rebecca gathered her dress and ran as best she could to hug her friend at the center of the room. Once her friend relinquished her hold, Riza raised her glass, “To the happy couple.”

“To the happy couple,” repeated the crowd.

“To the happy coupplee,” a tipsy Fuery cheered, a little late to the punch. “Hear, hear!’ Breda shouted heartily, downing his whole flute before rising to take her place.

Riza settled back into her seat with a sigh of relief, her throat still tight as she reached for her water. Hayate hopped onto his stool, a black satin bowtie around his neck, fully expecting celebratory pets.  

From three seats away, Roy was eyeing his Captain. He had to admit, he was spoiled with her proximity on a daily basis. As his adjutant and bodyguard, she was nearly always, if not at his left shoulder, then the closest one to him in any and every room. Maybe it was the wine flowing freely and the emotions running high, but it was almost uncomfortable to be separated by not only the bride and the groom, but Breda’s seat as well.

If he was just even one seat closer, he could at least catch her eye.

So, he tried that.

Roy slipped over onto the empty seat next to him and leaned over the table casually, attempting to enter Riza’s field of vision. Instead, it was Rebecca Catalina who caught his eye and gave him the look. That condescending look that said, somehow, someway, she knew he didn’t just want to congratulate Riza on her speech. The look that said she knew he had had trouble listening to the wedding ceremony, the toasts, anything at all really. She knew he just stared at the maid-of-honor like he was missing something.

He stared at her like it had been so long since he had acknowledged his heart- It had been so bloody long that Catalina and Havoc had actually resigned from breaking up every five seconds and finally settled down.

Yeah, It had been way too long.

Roy glared back at her then looked away into the crowd.

He tapped his index finger on the table cloth impatiently. The crowd barked with laughter and applauded Breda’s speech onward. It was then Roy felt a surge of just enough courage and spite to move. His legs carried him quietly past Havoc and Catalina, ignoring the brides’ all-knowing glare. He landed on the other side of Riza, dethroning Black Hayate from his special Groomsdog stool, lifting the pup up and placing him back on the floor.

Roy sat down, huffing out the energy. He felt a sense of calm wash over him again. Yes, having her closer was much better for his nerves, to be sure.

“Nice speech,” he opened quietly.

Riza blinked at his appearance. She glanced down at her dog, then to Breda at the center of the room still speaking, then back at the General.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, mildly unsurprised.

For a moment, she watched him, expecting him to say his piece, explain the reason for his inappropriately timed visit. But, Roy just stared out at Breda and said nothing. She watched him swallow tightly then she reached for a water for herself.

“Tell me something, Captain,” he finally said as she sipped. She hummed. “Why is it that you are the maid-of-honor, but I am not the best man?”

She met his eyes curtly, “Perhaps you were not the best of the men, sir.”

He scoffed, “Preposterous.” She smirked softly, “Hardly, sir.”

Roy looked back to his man on the floor. He and Havoc were both now tearing up with a drunken laughter much more boisterous than any other guest could consider warranted. Come on, his speech could not be that funny.

“So, Breda,” “Yes, sir.” “I’m jealous, really,” he admitted. Riza raised her eyebrow as Roy turned on the charm. “For, as the best man, he’s gotten to work closely with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“I can not get you promoted.” “You got Hayate promoted.” “Hayate is worthy of his position. sir.”

The pup whined up at the General, appearing quite offended that he would dare treat him like a common dog rather than the honored member of the Havoc wedding party he was. Roy reached downward to pet him in apology, mildly defeated. Riza turned back to Breda.

Roy wasn’t sure what to say next. He wasn’t even sure what his plan was here, or anywhere, at all in means of this subject. 

I mean, he wasn’t stupid, no. He was perceptive enough to know that his heart was planning its payback. He dealt with a similar feeling at Elric’s’wedding years ago. Except now, he knew what he was dealing with. He knew precisely what he was holding captive in exchange for his goal. He knew the consequences, and now the symptoms of neglect were beginning to take hold.

Roy sighed. He wasn’t sure what to say next.

Riza felt his head swimming beside her and broke the silence with a note of normality. “If it’s any consolation, Sir. I would not even select you for my wedding party.”

It was a soft serve. She had set him up to find a sharp tongued response.

He found it with ease. Roy hummed in feigned thought and surveyed her carefully, “Not even as the groom, Captain?”

She tensed.

He smiled slyly and shrugged cockily, hiding his candor, “I would give anything to forever nag you like you nag me.”

“Your seat is over there, General.”

From any other perspective, it appeared he had crossed a line. From any other seat in the room, it was clear Riza Hawkeye truly did not appreciate whatever sort of mock-proposal he let spill out of his mouth.

Yet, from the seat next to the maid-of-honor, next to the bride, next to the groom, next to the best man, Roy watched Riza bite her lip to fight off the slightest of smiles. From his seat, Roy could concede, he at least had the best view.