#if it does become more known I think I’ll cry if it is considered YA bc it’s not at ALL what current YA novels are

[kastukj]

I dont know what sort of divine intervention happened but this is slowly becoming one of the best books I’ve ever read?? I’d like to thank whatever heavenly being being blessed me with this discovery

Incoming 2am word vomit ‘review’ so I can empty my brain a bit don’t mind me

Ok so to start I think the biggest thing I have to say is it’s very obvious the love and care that was put into writing this book. It’s a love story built off of an incredibly unfortunate situation and the author takes care in the way they talk about it in the story. It’s not played down, it’s not glorified or simplified or sugar coated or anything and it’s not just the initial situation that’s like that either, it’s plenty of other instances and subjects that are treated the same. It’s a situation that to some is horrifying in its own right, and will only continue to cause trouble because of things neither of them can control. The same can be similarly said for the main characters/LI’s as well I’d say, they’re not infallible by any means and it’s very refreshing. They’re both deeply troubled and make mistakes and hurt themselves and each other whether they mean to or not but they also work to fix those mistakes and to better themselves, not to perfection but enough to where they won’t collapse under the weight of the story if that makes sense? I think just in general it’s obvious the author loves and cares for this story and its characters and it shows in so many ways and it’s so incredibly heartwarming after stuffing my brain with bad book videos and conversations w friends about em Agdkshs

“I’m gonna start reading dune” I say as I buy a completely different book and start reading that instead

[mypoisonedvine]

Bankrupt | dark!40′s!Stucky x reader

Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension.  When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: non con, dub con, DP, anal sex, coercion, a lil bit of knife play, basically everything awful you can imagine, please don’t read if you would find it upsetting.

@hnryycvll thanks for watching me write this live lol

moodboard by @nsfwsebbie​

You knew something wasn’t right when Bruce left in the morning.  He kissed you on the forehead, which was normal, but just before he stepped out for the day he turned back.

“You know I love you, right honey?” he asked nervously.

“Uh, yes, of course I do,” you answered with a raised brow, “I love you too.”

“Good,” he nodded, stepping out the door again.  

“I’ll see you when you get home,” you smiled.

“Of course,” he agreed, and shut the front door behind him as he walked to his car.

You’d seen that look before, and you knew he’d done something.  But it felt different this time.  You wouldn’t be shocked if he came back with a few bruises, claiming he had tripped when you knew he had been roughed up by mob thugs over his gambling debt.  He had told you before that he’d settled the debt and that it was going to be fine, but you weren’t sure you could really believe it anymore… after years of lying and stealing to feed his addiction, you had lost a lot of trust.  But you always tried to stay positive.

That said, a knock at the door an hour later made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.  You really considered not answering it, and yet you were already unhooking the latch and turning the knob before you knew what you were doing.

Two men stood outside, dressed much nicer than a visit in this sort of neighborhood merited.  You nearly had to crane your neck to look at them: they were so tall.  And you could tell that underneath the three pieces, they were carrying a lot of muscle.

You’d seen guys like this hanging around before.  You knew what they did.

“My husband isn’t home,” you instantly informed them.

The blonde one standing in the front smiled.  The dark-haired one in the back took a last puff of a cigarette before dropping the butt and stomping it with his shoe.

“That’s no trouble,” the blonde explained.  “Why don’t you let us in and we can talk to you?”

“You can go hassle him at work, if you want,” you shrugged.  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“We’re not here for your husband, sweetcheeks,” the other one interjected with a tone of irritation.

“Just invite us in for a drink, won’t you?  It’s hot out,” the blonde requested.

You didn’t get the sense you had much of a choice.  You stepped back and opened the door.  The two of them nodded as they filed in, giving your living space a cursory glance as you shut the door.  You knew it wasn’t much.  You hoped they felt guilty for taking all your money and leaving you with so little that you had to live in a place like this.

When you turned back to face them, you caught their glances moving up your body.  You tried to ignore it.

“Do you want ice water?  I think I might have some tea--” you began.

“It’s fine,” the blonde dismissed, “we’ll make this quick.  We just need to have a little chat with you.”

“What about?” you asked nervously.

“Your husband owes a lot of money to my employers,” the dark-haired man explained through a thick Brooklyn accent.

“I don’t see why that’s my problem,” you frowned, crossing your arms.  

“It’s about to be,” the blonde chimed in, his tone lacking in any sense of mocking or deridition… which somehow made it even more sinister.

You did your best to keep a brave face, not show any fear.  You knew that’s what they wanted, and you had no intention of giving them anything they wanted.

“What, you gonna beat me up?” you asked incredulously, rolling your eyes.

“No, sweetheart, that’d be a waste of a pretty face…” the dark-haired man looked you up and down with a grin, “...and a great body.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” the blonde suggested, cutting through the tension.  “I’m Steve, and my associate here is Bucky.  We’ve become quite acquainted with your husband.”

“Heard a lot about you,” the other-- Bucky, apparently-- added as he took a seat on your sofa like he owned the place.

“Only good things, I hope,” you chuckled nervously.

“Only great things,” Steve confirmed.

“Come sit on my lap, doll,” Bucky smiled, patting his leg.

“N-no, I’d better not,” you denied, stepping back only to bump into Steve’s towering form.  He pressed his body against you and you gasped as you felt the hard outline of a gun by his waist.

“Go sit on Bucky’s lap, sweetheart,” Steve recommended with a low voice, his eyes scanning you hungrily.

You nodded a little as you obeyed, watching Bucky’s face as you uncomfortably stepped towards him and sat on his knees.  He slipped an arm around your hips and pulled you back until you could feel what you hoped was a gun against your thigh.

“You seem like a good wife.  Obedient,” Steve praised, stepping a little closer.

“Loyal,” Bucky added, his voice reverberating over your neck as you felt the heat of his gaze.  “Stickin’ with him even when he spent all your money.  You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

“Yes, well,” you swallowed, “marriage requires… sacrifice.”

“You’re more right than you know,” Steve laughed.

“I don’t underst--” you began.

“Buck, hold her legs open,” Steve commanded as he started to reach for his fly.

Before you had a chance to attempt to squirm, Bucky obeyed and grabbed your legs, wrenching them apart with a brutal strength that you had no chance against.  Your skirt rolled up your thighs and you tried desperately to cover yourself but it was futile.

“No, please,” you began to beg, the illusion of fearlessness finally cracking.

“Does your husband ever get rough with ya?” Bucky asked with a low voice right against your ear that sent crawling chills up your spine strong enough to make your back arch.  “This’ll be like that.  Only better.”

“No, no please, you don’t have to do this,” you rushed as you saw Steve step forward, pulling his cock out from his trousers.  You looked away, though as you did you realized you should look at it to prepare yourself as best you could.  You gave it a glance only to whimper and look away again; it was big, and thick, and he was stroking it to its full size with ring-adorned hands.  He laughed a little when he saw your intimidation.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Please, I’m sorry, I’ll get the money if you need it, just don’t--”

You were interrupted by Steve’s hand roughly grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You think this is a negotiation?” he growled.  “It’s not.  The negotiation happened yesterday, with your husband.  He traded you for forgiveness of his debt.  Don’t you understand?  It’s over.  You’re ours now.”

Before you had even fully processed the meaning of his words, tears were welling in your eyes and you began to sob.  “It’s not true,” you denied, “you’re lying.  He would never…” 

“I’m a lot of things but I’m no liar,” Steve frowned.  “Buck was there-- he sold her right?  You remember?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “and pretty quick, too.  It was his idea, actually.  We didn’t even lay a hand on him before he offered you up.  Showed us a picture and everything.”

You fought against Bucky’s grip again as you cried but it was useless: he managed to pull your legs up higher, hooking under your knees, and grab your wrists too.  The position was uncomfortable but you couldn’t really worry about that as you screamed and cried at the feeling of betrayal.  “No, it’s not true, it’s not true…” you sputtered, not making much sense anymore, and not really believing your own words.

“You look pretty when you cry, doll,” Bucky purred.  You tried to kick at Steve and Bucky pulled at your legs harder, sending pain to your hips and causing you to yelp.

“Stop fucking fighting,” Steve hissed.  “You understand that if your husband isn’t good for the deal he made, we’ll kill him, don’t you?  So you’d better behave if you want to save his life.”

You froze.  On one hand, this was the guy who had apparently traded you to these awful men as if you were his to give away, and you hated him for all the years of lying and sneaking around and, most notably, gambling away all your money until he was deep in the mob’s pocket.

On the other, you still, for some reason, loved him.  You couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.  You’d promised to stick by his side for richer or for poorer.  You hadn’t known then that this was the poorest option, let alone one you would have to choose.  But you couldn’t let these men kill him.

Steve held your face with his hands in a way that was both dominant and soothing-- or at least, an attempt at soothing.

“You’re going to be good, aren’t you?  For your husband’s life?” Steve pressed.

You shivered a little, but took a deep breath and nodded.  He smiled and patted you on the cheek.

He pulled a knife from his jacket and quickly sliced off your underwear.  You sniffled as you tried to stop crying, fighting the urge to try to close your legs as Steve kneeled to look at you closer.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he cooed.  “You know, at first I wasn’t sure this was a fair trade.  I mean, he owes us a lotta lettuce.  But now I’m thinking he’s the one getting screwed.”  Steve stood up and wiped a tear from your cheek.  “You know, besides you of course.”

“Just get it over with,” you whispered.  They both laughed.

“What’s with the pessimism, sweetheart?  Behave yourself and I’ll make it good for you.”

You whimpered a little as he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, focusing instead on the hard grip Bucky had on your arms and how it would probably bruise tomorrow-- it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either, but much easier to handle than a near-stranger’s cock about to plunge into you.

He had to push pretty hard to get it to go in, barreling past the resistance of your walls until he was sliding into you.  You gasped and cried out, feeling Bucky’s cock harden underneath you in response to the sound.

“Fuck, so tight,” Steve groaned. “If I had a wife like you I’d’ve never let you go, sweetheart.  Wouldn’t even let you leave the house.  Not when I could fuck this perfect little pussy all day long.”

“It’s that good?” Bucky asked with a husky voice.

Steve buried himself in you completely and savored the feeling of your muscles fluttering around him.  You bit your lip and fought your tears.  

“You’ll get your turn, Buck,” Steve promised, “but I can’t promise I can give her to you in one piece.”

He pulled back out nearly all the way before slamming back in, making you choke on a scream.  He set a brutally hard, yet slow, pace as he fucked you senseless, stretching you open more than you’d thought was possible.  You hoped you weren’t as loud as you seemed to sound in your own head.

“You like my cock, don’t you?  See, this was what you always needed,” Steve purred.  “A real man.  Somebody to fuck you like a whore, just how you like it, huh?”

“Hnng,” you gurgled in lieu of a reply.

You relaxed into Bucky’s embrace as best you could, letting Steve use your body and hoping it would all be over soon.  

“You ever gonna let me get a piece of that?” Bucky growled at Steve.

“Soon,” Steve nodded breathlessly, “just a little more… fuck, it’s so good.”

Steve made a noise when he pulled out like he was mustering all his restraint to do it.  He gripped his cock once it was free, stepping back and watching Bucky adjust your body on top of him as he freed his cock from his suit pants.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be good, right?” Bucky pressed as he angled you to slip onto his cock.  You nodded feverishly as he finally pushed into you, rougher than Steve had, making you wince.  “Oh god,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.  Your pussy feels amazing, doll.  Jesus.”

You felt an unexpected sense of pride warm your chest.  You refused to believe that you actually wanted to make him feel good.  You decided it was just a tactical thing-- the more you pleasured him, the sooner this would be done with.

“Good, right?” Steve asked with a smile.

“So fucking good,” Bucky agreed, leaning you forward a little.  “Come on, baby, bounce on that cock,” he encouraged.  You set your legs on the ground and balanced your hands on his knees, lifting and dropping your hips with stuttered breaths as his cock brushed against something inside you that made your legs shake and quiver.

Bucky leaned back and watched you work, occasionally taking a moment to squeeze or slap your ass.  His hands wandered over your back, your shoulders, even your thighs; Bucky’s touch explored you until you felt his thumb circle over the puckered opening of your ass and you jumped a little in shock.

“Not there,” you begged, stopping your movements.  “Please, not there.”

“Wherever I want,” he corrected sternly.  You whimpered a little as you felt him press ever so slightly, your tight rim expanding to accept the tip of his thumb.

“Say it,” he demanded.

You forced your eyes shut.  “Wherever you want,” you repeated.  “Wherever you want, Bucky.”

He hummed in approval, and pushed his digit in to the first knuckle.  You suppressed a gasp.

“Did your husband ever fuck you here?  Or did he try, but you wouldn’t let him?”

“He never… we never…” you began, shaking your head.

“Seems like a waste,” he replied in a low voice, pushing in a little deeper.  “You’ve got such a great ass.  First thing I noticed when I walked in.”

“Is this what you were thinking about?” you asked with a gulp.  “Is that what you wanted to do the whole time?”

He chuckled darkly, and it was answer enough.

He pulled his cock from your pussy and you hated that you’d supplied plenty of lubrication all on your own.  He held you up as he started to press the head against your tighter opening, watching himself penetrate you with dark eyes.

He pushed his hips forward, adding more and more pressure until he was able to break past the tight ring of muscle, and you gasped like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head falling back against the top of the couch.  “So fucking tight.”

It stung like nobody’s business but you tried to keep your breathing steady as he pulled you down to the base of his cock, which was apparently even thicker and so much harder than you seemed to remember.

“Aw, I’ll be gentle, baby,” Bucky soothed as you whimpered, moving you on top of him slowly.  “I don’t wanna break you.  Yet.”

The pain took what must have been hours to subside, your toes involuntarily curling into the shag rug-- which made you realize your shoes must have fallen off at some point.  Even when it hurt, you felt the pleasure underneath it all, his cock managing to stimulate places inside you even through the layer of your body in the way.

“She’s dripping, Buck,” Steve observed with a predatory grin.  “She loves it.” 

Bucky slipped his fingers between your legs and felt the wetness for himself, indeed as plentiful as Steve had promised, reacting with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan.  “Fuck, you like my cock in your ass, don’t you?”

You shook your head even as you felt your hips moving with his involuntarily.  

“Just admit it,” he growled, wrapping a hand tightly around your neck.  “Admit that you love getting fucked in the ass, because you’re my dirty little slut.”

You sobbed, choking from the tightening grip on your throat.  “Bucky,” you whimpered, trying to plead with him but not getting very far into it.

“Do it for your dear old husband, huh?  God, what would he think if he saw you know?”

You closed your eyes, trying not to imagine the answer to that question.

“He’d probably be wishing he’d known sooner that his innocent little wife liked it up the ass.”

They laughed and you winced, feeling Bucky graze his teeth over the shell of your ear.

“Say it, doll,” he whispered, “say it just how I told you to.”

“I…” you began, but trailed off.  You yelped when he slapped you right between your legs, sending a shock of pleasure-pain through your body.  “I love getting fucked in the ass,” you finally stuttered out, “because I’m your-- your dirty little slut.”

Bucky moaned right into your ear, thrusting faster and deeper into you.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Dirty mouth on ya, too.  Gonna fuck you there another day.”

“Please,” you whimpered, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

Every slam of his hips into yours made your body shake, and you whined when he stopped thrusting to hold you down and grind against you.

You moaned with every movement, unable to stop the tears from flowing as the pain and the pleasure became indistinguishable.

You were so lost in it that you didn’t realize Steve was standing in front of you again until you felt his fingers pressing into your pussy.  You were so wet that it took almost nothing, but you still gasped.

“Damn, so wet for us.  Such a good girl,” Steve groaned.

Bucky pulled your legs up again, stilling inside you to hold you open for Steve.

“You can let go of her now, I reckon,” Steve informed Bucky.  “She’s done fightin’.  Look at her, she loves it.”

Bucky nodded and let go of your legs and arms.  You did try to shut your legs a bit, not out of any notion that this would stop: you were just trying to relieve the soreness in your hips.

It didn’t last long as Steve pushed your legs apart, freeing Bucky to wrap his arms around your waist.

You hadn’t even known it was possible to fit two cocks at once, especially two cocks like this.

You made a noise that was purely inhuman as Steve pressed into you again, feeling full beyond the brim, incapable of taking anymore-- and there was still so much of him left.

“I can’t,” you began to protest, but it fell on deaf ears as Steve continued to slide into your pliant body.  “It’s too much!  Steve!”

That got his attention, and he looked down at you with bared teeth.  “You’re gonna take it, whore.  You’re gonna take our fucking cocks.  And you’re gonna say my name just like that when I come in this ruined little hole.”

You sobbed as he bottomed out, feeling your holes clenching around them as you struggled to fit their girth.

Both of the men groaned a bit as they felt your struggle, Bucky licking and kissing at your neck while Steve tore your blouse open and roughly palmed at your tits.

“So fucking perfect,” Bucky praised before pushing your face to the side, pulling you into a deep and sloppy kiss.  You reciprocated instantly, though you struggled to put much thought into it as all your attention was on the peculiar and powerful feeling of two men inside you at once.

You heard your moans get louder and more unabashed as they were lost in Bucky’s eager mouth, echoing back until you weren’t sure who you were hearing anymore.

Steve’s thumb roughly rubbed at your clit and you nearly screamed from the overwhelming sensations flowing through your body; your head fell back on Bucky’s shoulder again, who kissed your temple and cheek in a way much too delicate for the situation.

“Didn’t I say I’d make it good for you?” Steve growled.  “Tell me how good it feels.”

You would look back on this moment and try to convince yourself that you were immersed in your role, that you were just saying whatever he wanted to hear for your own safety.  You would repeat over and over internally that you hated it and that you were just a hell of an actress with a strong sense of self-preservation.  But you would know that it was a lie.  Because what you said next was the honest-to-God truth, and deep down, all three of you knew it.

“It feels so fucking good!” you screamed.  “Please don’t stop, oh my god, I’m going to-- fuck!”

“Yeah baby, come on my cock,” Steve praised.  “His cock, too.  Come for us.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck to brace yourself, “yes, yes, yes!”

Every part of you tensed up and tightened, your entire body like a spring pulled to its limit.  And as the tension released and you felt yourself shatter in their arms, a gush of wetness pulsed out of you.

“Fuck,” Steve grinned, “look at our girl, coming so hard for us.”

“Bet her husband’s never made her do that,” Bucky laughed.  “She’s clenching around me, Steve, I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Want us to come in you, baby?” Steve growled, nipping at your jaw.  “You wanna be so full of us, don’t you?  Wanna make us come?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, exhausted and weak, limp in his arms, “yes, Steve, please…”

Bucky lost it first, holding you so tight that you could barely breathe.  He babbled praise against your ear as he spilled inside you, telling you how good you were for him, how you were gonna make him feel good from now on, whenever he wanted.  You could barely process that as you felt Steve follow suit, moaning weakly as he pumped into you with stuttering thrusts, painting your insides with his spend.

“Yes,” Steve hissed as he began to come down from his high, both of them buried in you as deep as they could fit, all three of you panting like you’d just run a marathon.  

You winced as Steve pulled out of you, your face feeling hot as you felt his cum begin to leak out of you.  

Bucky helped you stand up and adjusted your clothes a little until you were covered up again… but you were sure you must’ve looked completely fucked anyways.  He scooped you up into his arms; an hour ago it would’ve terrified you, but now you leaned into his shoulder and curled up into a ball in his embrace.  He carried you out of the house and laid you down in the backseat of their car, with a tenderness you wished he had shown a little sooner.

He sat in the back with you while Steve drove you to Bucky’s apartment: your new home, they informed you excitedly.

The movement of the car rocked you to a place between sleep and wakefulness, and you tried not to listen to the men talking about the plans they had for you, or the ‘assignments’ they needed to complete this week.  Steve talked about needing to go out of town, and they decided that he would take you with him to relieve his stress.  “I’ll miss you though,” Bucky cooed, stroking your hair.

You were crying but there were no sobs, just tears flowing silently as you tried to think about the lines they were leaving on your face and not the fluids leaking from the rest of your abused body.

When the car stopped and you were carried into Bucky’s apartment, you felt your locket slip from your neck and fall into a grate.  A picture of your husband was inside that locket.  You got the sense you wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

[mammons-tax-returns]

comforting you about your body insecurities pt. 1

beelzebub, mammon, lucifer

:) ! first post back!! (rest of the brothers coming later)

🧋MALE MC🧋

Lucifer is a very attentive demon, despite being busy with his nose shoved in a stack of papers around the clock

He really does find you wonderful, both just to relax with and to admire.

And he’s known that you piqued his interest ever since you appeared before him in the stuco room. And this is LUCIFER. He normally doesn’t give any human a second glance. Unless ur some powerful and dangerously talented sorcerer with white hair 🤧but that aside

Tonight, he gets a break from Diavolo’s workload because there is yet another ball being held at the castle.

He sprays a faint but expensive cologne on his skin, quietly hoping that you would like and comment on it so he could respond with some flirty line. That would be nice, he thinks.

Then, he’s taking long strides leading out of his bedroom, and heading over to yours beside the kitchen, where he hears his siblings bickering over the best fruit.

He knocks on the door first, waiting for a response that never comes. He only hears your favorite song from within.

He calls your name, only becoming more confused the longer the silence grows

When he pushes open the door, he’s nearly relieved to see you standing in front of the body mirror, fixing the the collar of your outfit. You turn to look at him offer a smile. “Hey, Luci. You’re punctual, as usual.”

He hums under his breath in response. A silent “i know”. He pads over to you, placing a hand on your hip affectionately. “You look good enough to eat, handsome. Asmodeus may have his moments but he certainly knows how to dress anyone with anything.”

You look at your own eyes in the reflection, not able to respond entirely. Lucifer means well, you’re sure of it. He doesn’t know that the past hour of preparation for the ball was spent scowling at the parts of you that you could never quite enjoy entirely.

Lucifer looks questioningly at your expression from the mirror. “y/n? Is something the matter?”

At that, you snap back to reality and look back at him. “Huh? Oh... Right— Sorry, I just,” you trail off, at a loss for words. Was this the right time to mention your thoughts, before a ball? “It’s nothing, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit in the way that they tend to do when he worries. “Mind sharing? I’d love to sit and listen.” His hands slide around your waist until he’s hugging you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne which makes you melt. Once again you wonder if this relationship was something you deserved.

“Luci...”

“Don’t give me that, lovely. I said I’d like to listen, no?” As you turn your head away, he takes the opportunity to rest his head on the crook of your neck.

You sigh, smiling hopelessly. You hate to admit it, but his response makes you feel jittery on the inside. “It’s silly really, I just wasn’t feeling myself just now. The clothes are amazing! But...” You know exactly what you’ll say next, but the words feel venomous in your mouth. “I’m wondering if Asmodeus understands how wasteful it is to put them on me, you know?”

Lucifer is at a loss, and his heart aches at your words. “Oh dear... Well that’s no good. I can’t have my gorgeous lover worrying himself over something that’s so far from the truth.”

You are already aware that Lucifer will always support you no matter what, and the thought is both heart warming and bothersome. “Yeah, yeah, Lucifer... I’ve heard it all alr-“

“Then what do you not understand?” Lucifer cuts you off promptly and confidently. “Do you really believe that I’d sugarcoat this? Anything?”

You swallow thickly. “N-... No. You wouldn’t...”

“Good. That’s a good response.” He places a sweet kiss on your cheek, ruby eyes flitting up to your own gaze in the mirror. “I’m almost afraid of other demons trying to steal you away in such a dashing outfit, to be honest. Enjoy yourself, but if any of my brothers try anything, I swear...”

You laugh a little, running a free hand through his hair and noting how he almost sinks into your touch. Almost like a cat. “Thank you, Lucifer. For everything.”

Lucifer kisses your hand softly. “You are perfection, darling.”

You look forward to slow dancing alongside the eldest brother now, losing yourself in the music. Lucifer was right, there was really nothing to worry yourself over.

Mammon, unfortunately, had to cancel date night plans for the weekend for a modeling gig.

You were disappointed, but not mad at him. He told you in advance, offered to make up for it, and usually tries his best to uphold his promises.

He offers to bring you with him, guilty at the thought of your alone in your room.

You don’t know whether to accept it or not. Would you fit in on a set full of gorgeous, picture-perfect demons?

Mammon has his hand on the back of his neck, nervous that you’re too angry at him to want to say yes.

To his delight, you smile and agree to go with him. Maybe, this way, he can avoid others flirting with him when they know that his boyfriend would be in the room.

At first, it makes you feel a little bit happier seeing Mammon light up with joy after seeing him pout like a puppy moments ago.

The day has come that you step onto the modeling floor. The photographers and staff know you well due to Mammon’s insistent bragging about you and your relationship. Clutching your D.D.D. anxiously, you make your way over to Mammon, who is already posing for a camera under bright studio lights.

You keep to the shadows as you watch him intently. Mammon is well known for his idiocy, but he is one handsome devil.

The evil snickering of two demons sound behind you, to which you ignore. You were too nervous to actually move, anyways.

Whatever... It doesn’t concern me... Right?

The giggles don’t stop, and you can’t help but listen in on their whispers. It sounds as if they purposely spoke louder than normal just to bother you.

“Look at how his eyes are shining... Obsessed with Mammon, much?” Oh boy. It really seems like they’re talking about...

“Let’s talk about those clothes, though... Are you kidding me... Does the human world really have that low of standards— or is this the bottom of the barrel.” At that, the two burst into a fit of cackles.

Luckily, a photographer hisses at them, irritated with the noise breaking his concentration. They quiet down, but continue to berate you in ways you had never even considered.

You’re sweating bullets now, itching to use your hand to wipe the oncoming tears of embarrassment. You blink them away, and don’t notice that your boyfriend is now finished with his shoot.

You tense upon seeing him speaking to the camera tech. Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. The last thing you needed was him seeing you cry right now. He’d be worried sick.

Not even bothering to excuse yourself, you slip into the bathroom and can only focus on the laughter of the other demons behind you. The sound causes you to shake slightly as you shut the door behind you.

There is more than one stall, so you briefly worry that someone would come in and find you bawling your eyes out in the middle of a semi-professional setting. You sigh heavily and turn the sink on to wash your face.

The more you stood in front of the sink rubbing your face, the more vividly you remember the rude comments made about you. Could they have been true?

With a troubled look, you sneak a glance at yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t think that your clothes were particularly “bad”... They said so much, and it’s all coming back like a vicious and cruel tsunami.

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to stop crying.

“Oh y/n!!~ Where are ya’ at?” Mammon crashes through the door, hands on his hip with a toothy and closed-eye grin.

Thinking quickly, you reach over to grab a hand towel and press your face into it. “H-Hey, Mammon, you looked good out there...”

Mammon must have picked up on your wavering tone, because he pauses.

You’re frozen on the spot when he places a hand on your shoulder, although you can’t see him through the towel.

“Uhh... What’s up with you? Don’t tell me that you’re...” It’s too late to react when he pushes the towel aside to find your teary eyes.

“Wh-What?!” His heart drops immediately. “What’s wrong babe?! Are you like... I dunno hurt or something?!”

You exhale shakily, still trying to calm yourself. “Those models out there are just... A little too honest about me, I s-suppose... But it’s really fine. I just... I don’t know... I guess I just needed a minute to... Freak out a little?”

“Honest? What the hell do you—“ A sudden feeling of recognition pulled at his features. Truth be told, he knew those demons personally, having worked with them before. Then the guilt of knowing exactly what happened began to eat away at him. “Oh...”

You shifted, wishing that he would drop the subject. This was getting much too embarrassing to bear, and the way his eyes drooped with sadness made your stomach churn. “Mammon. I-I’m serious, I’m okay—“

Mammon’s arms surround you like a sturdy, calming veil.

“I know you’re not, y/n!” Mammon had no desire to listen to you pretend to act unbothered. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I can guarantee that I have been given comments just as bad as those- and I’m The Mammon.”

You grip onto his shirt, avoiding making eye contact with him. “But... That’s the thing Mammon. I’m not nearly as confident or perfect as you.”

Mammon holds you tighter, voice softening drastically. “Don’t you think that’s exactly what I think of you when you comfort me on my bad days?”

A pool of warmth starts to seep from the depths of your chest. And your furrowed brows start to relax. “Really..? You mean it?”

“y/n, you are precious to me, and all of my crazy ass brothers. And there is no way in hell that I’ll allow some scum of the world get in the way of realizing how flawless you are.”

Beel wants nothing more than to spend every second of the day with you. And Belphie.

But unfortunately, most of his time is spent in the gym, if not the kitchen.

So he asks you if you would like to start working out with him at the gym, or even if you were just interested in hanging around and nothing more. He just wanted your presence.

The idea itself made your heart swell. But after a bit of thinking, you weren’t so sure. You’ve never been to a gym in Devildom before, but you were sure it wasn’t very different from human gyms.

It would be filled with confident and toned bodies that would put you down without even trying.

And as much as you wanted to be there with Beel, you weren’t ready for the prospect of the nasty looks you’d receive sitting beside the sixth-born who is a perfectly sculpted athlete.

After all, he seemed a bit too good for you, as it seemed in your head.

Beel wonders why you turned him down. Had he done something to upset you?

He’d have to get down to the bottom of it, lest he regret ignoring your behavior.

To do this, he takes a day off from the gym, thinking that the answer to this situation would be to spend time together. Smiling to himself, he clutches a bag of sweets to his chest.

y/n has got to love this, he thinks excitedly.

Knocking once, he can barely keep himself from barging in and tearing into his baked goodies. “y/n, I’m here. Wanna share these cookies with me? There’s also pound cake and cupcakes... The mini ones with enchanted apples on them.”

His smile falls a little when there’s a long note of silence. “y/n?” He questions.

“Oh! Uh... Sorry, Beel... Maybe another day. I’m studying for that final right now.” Beel knows you sound sincere, but something about this response seems off.

His heart sinks a little, feeling a little embarrassed after being rejected. He hadn’t expected this.

“Ah... Are you sure?”

“...”

There’s a silence from the other side of the door, and the sixth born starts to genuinely worry.

Truth be told, you had been weeping alone looking through images of famous demon athletes that advertised the same gym that Beel attended regularly. It was a dangerous thing to do, but how could you look away?

You take a glance at yourself in the mirror. your eyes were barely puffy. A bit red too. But overall, nothing seemed very different. Maybe— Just maybe, he wouldn’t even notice.

“Hello? You in there?”

You stiffen at the sound of his voice.

“Coming!” Hopping to your feet, you rush to the door and open it.

“Oh man, I was starting to get antsy smelling this bag... Let’s hurry and dig in.” His eyes are trained on the food in his hands, and his mouth is watering.

“Oh, Beel... You have some drool again!” You lightly scold him and wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin from the table right beside the door.

At that, he finally gets a good look at you.

“Oh, thank y—... ou...” He trails off instantaneously. “Your eyes...”

You sigh and bow your head sheepishly. “Agh... I should’ve known you’d catch me. It’s not anything serious, I just was... I was watching a sad movie is all.”

His eyebrows knit together. “So were you studying or watching a movie?”

He caught me.

He pushes forward, closing the door behind him and taking your hands in his. He leaves the bag abandoned on the floor.

“y/n... What’s been up with you lately? You’re seriously not yourself.”

Your face flushes, and you sigh. Your throat suddenly feels tight. “Uh... That’s...”

He’s noticed this entire time. I’m an idiot.

“Listen, Beel...” You squeeze his hand. “I’ll tell you because I know that if I don’t, you’ll be worried sick.”

He nods hurriedly, heart rate increasing.

“I guess I just...” The words struggle to make their way out. “I don’t understand how-how someone like you; handsome, kind, and strong could end up with...” You pause, starting to tear up. “With someone like me.”

Beel takes a moment to process your situation.

And when he does, his head starts to spin, and his heart feels heavy like a boulder.

“y/n... What are you even thinking?” Is all he manages to whisper. He pulls you into a tight, comforting hug and sniffles.

“Beel—“

“You mean literally more to me than anything or anyone else.” He says firmly. “I don’t know what part of you you’re so hung up on, I couldn’t even imagine there being any reason to be.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I do.” He cuts you off firmly. If he didn’t, you may try to deny his definite truth. “y/n, I know i’m all about food and training... I’m sorry I don’t know how to make you realize how wonderful you are.

But I’d like to learn that with you. Is that okay?”

Your tears finally fall, soaking through his tank top.

“Of course... I’d love that.”

[narumi-gens]

How did Naoya and his blue ball Queen meet 👁 👄 👁

note: Naoya’s Blue Ball Queen. Thank you, anon. That’s what I’m officially dubbing her 👑 also know that we know Naoya has a Kansai accent, I’m going wild.  warning: smut words: 1.7k (I’m trash) related drabbles

When Naoya is assigned a mission in Osaka to investigate and eliminate a group of curse users who are rumored to have gotten their hands on a Special Grade cursed object, he thinks nothing of it. As a Special Grade 1 sorcerer and heir to the Zen’in Clan, he considers it more of an annoyance than anything else. 

The thing that does catch his attention and raises his ire is that the higher-ups have decided to assign him a partner for this mission under the apparent logic that the growing strength of these curse users warrants sparing two Grade 1 sorcerers. 

And when he finds out that this partner is just some woman without a cursed technique, he’s furious. 

Throughout the entire duration of the mission, he finds himself bitterly fuming over your presence, his role as your babysitter, and your mistaken belief that the two of you are equals. When the mission is complete and the curse users are dead, he refuses to acknowledge the role you played in recovering the cursed object. 

He’s not quite sure what happens next. 

One moment he has you caged in against the wall in some seedy alley near the curse users’ base of operations, looming over you with a smirk as he tells you that your only value comes from how well you know how to serve a man and how many kids you can manage to pop out for whatever poor bastard ends up stuck with you.  

The next moment, he’s underneath you in some Osaka love hotel watching through half-lidded, hungry eyes as you ride him to your heart’s content with nothing on your mind but your own pleasure. 

He doesn’t know what did it. If it was the way you were looking at him like he wasn’t worth your time. Or maybe it was how every command he tried to give you went in one ear and out the other. It could have been how little respect you seemed to hold for him and his position. 

All he knows is that he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk from your lips, teach you your place, and put out that fire that he saw burning in your eyes. 

But things aren’t going to plan. Because every time he attempts to take control as you bounce on his cock, slamming his hips up into yours from below at his desired pace or trying to flip you over so that he’s the one drilling into you, your grip on his throat grows tighter in warning. 

He can feel your nails digging into the skin of his throat and his chest until you’re drawing blood and leaving behind crescent-shaped gouges that will last for days -- and serve as a reminder that he lowered himself to your level. 

But that’s a problem for tomorrow. The only thing that matters now is chasing his own orgasm. Because, even though he hasn’t even known you for a full day, he knows with 100% certainty that if you come first then you’ll leave him still hard and aching for a release without a second thought. 

And with the way you’re moaning with your head dropped back as the pace of your hips begins to grow a bit sloppier, he can tell that you’re getting closer. But he’s not far behind, his own end is in sight as tension continues to build in the base of his spine. 

He begins to run his mouth despite your grip on his throat as he digs his fingers into your hips, determined to leave behind bruises that you’ll feel under your clothes for days. 

“This is all yer fuckin’ good for,” he spits over the wet sound your pussy makes every single time you sink down on his cock. “Yer nothin’ more than a warm hole for me to dump my cum in.”

Before he can continue to rattle off insults and remind you of how little you’re worth, you release his throat only to slap a hand over his mouth that you then use to support your entire weight. Your fingers dig into his sharp jawline and the fury in his eyes as he glares up at you goes unnoticed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you pant, never once breaking your rhythm. Your eyes squeeze even tighter shut as you try to block him out. “I can’t, fuck, come if I have to, ah!, listen to your whining.”

He winces when you lift your hand from his chest, the nail marks you leave behind stinging. But it’s quickly forgotten when he turns absolutely feral as you begin to furiously rub your clit. 

That seems to be all you need before you’re crying out and tensing above him as your pussy clamps down around his cock, the sensation making him groan into your hand. 

But Naoya knows how to seize an opportunity when one presents itself and he knows that if he doesn’t act now then he’ll be left with only his hand to finish getting himself off. Taking advantage of how caught up you are in your orgasm, he uses his strength to flip your positions so that you’re sprawled out beneath him and surprise cuts through the pleasure on your face. 

Only, he doesn’t want to see that fucking face or that fucking smirk or that fucking look in your eyes -- that look that makes him want to break you. 

So, he pulls out and roughly flips you over onto your knees. He tightly grabs onto your hips before plunging his cock back into your still-spasming cunt until he’s buried balls deep inside of you. You toss him an outraged look over your shoulder and he sees your mouth opening to let out some sharp-tongued remark. 

He cuts you off with a hand to the back of your neck that he uses to pin your head face-down into the mattress. You immediately begin to buck underneath him in protest but when he resumes fucking you hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin each time his hips meet your ass loud in his ears, you suddenly become slightly more pliant. 

“That’s right,” he grunts, panting heavily as he takes in the sight of you on your knees in front of him -- ass up, head down. “Fuckin’ take it like the whore ya are.”

His words seem to reignite that spark in you because you begin trying to writhe away from him again. But his hold only grows tighter and his thrusts only become more brutal as he he keeps you in place. When he hears you trying to say something into the sheets, he pushes your face down harder. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he watches you struggle beneath him. “This is right where ya belong. On yer fuckin’ knees.”

He sees one of your hands move from where it had been clutching the sheets to slip under your body and when he feels you clench down around his cock, his eyes turn wild. 

“What makes ya think ya get to come again?” he seethes, now fucking into you with so much force that the headboard is hitting the wall with each thrust. “Ya ain’t earned the right to come twice. Fuckin’ bitch.”

But apparently, you’re presumptuous enough to think you have earned the right to come again because you’re suddenly tensing beneath him as your walls begin to spasm again, somehow even harder than the first time. 

It’s enough to make him loudly moan and he has just enough foresight to pull out of your sweet, sweet cunt just in time for him to spill his cum in warm streaks along your back. The last thing he wants is to end up with you carrying some bastard kid of his. 

As a sudden wave of exhaustion follows his orgasm, he collapses into bed next to you, absently running a hand through his sweaty hair and trying to catch his breath. He feels the bed moving beneath him and opens an eye to see that you’re already getting out of it before he closes it again.

Good. He doesn’t want to have to be around you any longer than he already has. 

He can hear you moving throughout the room and the sound of you picking up your discarded clothing. 

“I’ll let you report back and turn over the cursed object,” you finally break the silence to tell him and he looks at you to see that your back -- now wiped clean of his cum -- is turned to him as you pull on your jeans. 

He clenches his jaw at your phrasing. You’ll let him. As if you have any right to let him do anything. 

But before he can spit any of this out of you, you’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and are making your way to the door, giving no care to how your sweaty hair gives away how throughly you’ve just been fucked. 

“By the way, Zen’in-sama,” you pause to say, your hand on the doorknob as you look at him over your shoulder. That infuriating smirk is back on your lips and he hates how his cock is already stirring again at your mocking tone. “It seems like it’s your value that’s dependent on your ability to serve.”

Naoya sees red and shoots up to prop himself up on his elbows, but before he can put you in your place, you’re already gone, the door slamming shut behind you and your laughter ringing loudly through the hallway of the hotel.

He’s left to seethe on his own and it only fuels his anger. The next time he sees you, you’re going to regret ever having dared to cross him. He’ll remind you where exactly you belong -- on your knees and serving him. 

He focuses on this as he gets up out of the bed and pointedly tries not to think about how he let you get the last word. 

It’s only after he’s showered and is getting dressed that he realizes with a blinding hot rage that you used his shirt to wipe his cum off of your back. 

“Fuckin’ bitch.”

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 12

chapter 11

Warning: kidnapping

A/N: I hope y'all are ready for a very heavy chapter because toward the end our Greed boi is going to go to a very dark place with his real thoughts on Cyrus.

“Do you think he does?” Belphie asked as he watched his older brother feed the baby.

“It would make sense.” The second-born shrugs. “I think Lucifer realized it too ‘n that’s why he was in such a big hurry for Beel and him to leave.”

The seventh-born only nods in response. “Hey I heard you three are going up to the mortal world after the term... Is that true?”

“Yeah... ‘Rella says she wants to go back to her home in York. I like the idea- been there a couple times with her after Solomon taught her to summon us. It’s nice. Hardly anybody stops by so it should be relaxin’ ‘n maybe it’ll do the baby some good to get away from the house for a bit.”

“More power to you, since we don’t know a whole lot about what kind of nutrients cambions need to begin with, it’ll probably be good for him to get some sunlight, I guess. Hey, why’re you holding the bottle that way? Doesn't it make more sense to hold it higher so he finishes eating faster?”

“Nah, any higher and he could take too much and inhale it while he’s eating. Learned that out the hard way with Satan. Plus, lowers your chances of gettin' spat up on.”

“It’s crazy that you stepped up like that for him... How did you do it?” The Avatar of Sloth leans his head against Mammon’s shoulder.

“Lots of sleepless nights and lots of coffee- I swear, m’blood probly consisted of just coffee back then,” Mammon pulls the bottle away from Cyrus after he had finished eating and started to burp him, “at least for those first few months anyway.”

“I’m not surprised,” Belphie hums.

“S'why our rooms are right next to each other. That way I wasn’t having to risk poppin’ my stitches runnin’ through the halls just t��get to him before he could wake any of y’all up. Man, that thing took forever t’heal. Not t’mention it kept getting infected since between watchin’ out for the lil’ ball of wrath that was our brother ‘n school, ‘n plannin’ Lilith’s service, I only had the time t’really take care of it when I showered save for the rare moments I had to change my bandages...” Mammon is silent for a moment, “I don’t regret it though. Gettin' to see him grow up to become a strong demon and knowing I made that possible, makes it all the reward itself.”

The younger brother only nods as he notices the infant’s eyes were glued to him- more specifically at his face. “What’re you staring at, kid? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, it’s just a thing babies do around this age. Its more about learning faces and facial expressions right now,” The older brother explains.

“Considering what you went through, you seem awfully calm now when you deal with him.”

“It's parental instinct and nothing more right now. Think of it as your body moving on its own. If I’m being honest with you, it’s still kind of hard- especially when he gets clingy like this but I think I’m gettin' better with him- acceptin' reality for what it is and learning to bond with him. Believe me, Belphie this isn’t how I wanted to have my first kid, but,” Mammon lets out a depressed sigh, “I’m a father now... and that means I have to suck it up and get my shit together. It’s what he deserves at the very least.”

“Wow, I guess what they say is true, huh? You really do change your ways once you have a kid.”

“Whatcha mean by that? I feel like I should feel insulted...”

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant to come out that way, Mams... It’s just that it feels like you’ve changed. Before all this, there wasn’t a single day where you went without thinking of easy ways to make a quick grimm, not a day where we didn’t have to take inventory of our stuff in fear that you had stolen something valuable of ours, went on massive shopping sprees whenever you could, but now... now, you don’t do any of that. It’s like you grew up somehow... like you’re back to how you were when we were angels and how you were way back when we had just fallen and your sin hadn’t quite settled in yet, you know?”

“Let’s just say priorities have changed...”

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s a nice change. I’m going to head to bed now. See you around.” Belphie smiled as he got up and left.

“See ya, Belphie.”

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

He doesn’t remember how long he sat with Cyrus until the little one fell asleep against his chest, but once he placed the infant in the crib, he just stood there, lost in dark thoughts.

“It’s funny...” The white-haired demon’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “I should resent your presence in my life- wish you were never born, hate you. The worst part of me- the scummy part of me- does. You took everything that I was reserving for my child with Arella and you’re a representation of everything your birth mother did to me but... I can’t- and that’s what I hate most about you. Maybe my reason for keepin’ you comes from a fear that I won’t have the guts to risk my mate’s life that way so I just took the closest alternative I could ever get to that... I know... I know I’m being selfish by keeping her for myself as long as I can and not giving her that family with me she wants so badly and it makes me angry to watch her give a child that’s not even hers so much love when you shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place... Now it's far too late to get rid of you without hurting her.... I made the wrong choice for me even though I know ultimately it was the right one for you.”

He bit his tongue as a snarl formed on his face. Here, with no one to hear him, Mammon would let out his true feelings as wrong as it was. As if letting them out would somehow change his feelings for this child.

“For now, I’ll lie and pretend for your sake and everyone else’s. No one will ever know the way I wish Lucifer just would have done away with ya and part of me wonders... if a lower demon were to attack you and none of my brothers or Arella were there to spur me to action, would I even bother to protect you or would I dare to act selfishly and just let you die? Let the problem resolve itself? Ya better prove that you were ever worth what I’ve been putting myself through in the first pla-”

A sudden bout of clarity strikes the demon, the weight of what he had just said hit him like a stack of bricks and suddenly he can’t breathe. Oh devils, he can’t breathe under the weight of it all. Was he really that messed up in the head that he would do this to his own child? That he would force Cyrus to earn his love when he knows he should just give it to him unconditionally? What happened to all that progress he thought he’d been making? What kind of father would that make him? His eyes widened in horror at the thought as he broke down in silent tears.

How unfit of a father am I? He thought, He’s my son and I can’t even bring myself to love him? I really am the worst scum of the devildom. I’ve been holding some kind of grudge against a baby for crying out loud! Is this how I would act if Arella and I had a kid and they killed her?! The thought terrifies him. He wanted so badly to be a father and now that he was, this is the way he reacted to it? Unforgivable. Mammon remembered how it felt to fight for his father’s love and how he felt when Arella told him about her horrible mother and he felt so disgusted with it but wasn’t he just the same?

As he sank down to his knees, he felt a tiny hand grasp one of his fingers and his head snapped up. There was his son who had managed to wiggle his way closer to the edge of the crib, watching him with eyes full of what appeared to be fear. It froze his blood to see that look on anyone, let alone his own child. Without thinking, the Avatar of Greed rushes forward, scoops the child up and holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as fresh tears begin to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Apologies tumble from his mouth in between choked sobs. “I said all those terrible things to ya. I don’t mean them. I don’t.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince more at this point. Was it himself or his son? “I love ya. I love ya. I love ya. I’ll change. I’ll do anything I can for you- give you everything ya deserve.”

The baby only cooed softly, trying so hard to lift his head up, but with the way his father was held his head to his chest left no other option but for Cyrus to pat his hands against his father’s chest.

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

Over the coming years, Mammon held true to his word on that dark night. He embraced his son fully and finally formed a deep bond with him. There were some good days, some bad, but never once had the demon let his mind wander back to that dark place of hate and malice. At some point, the Avatar of Greed was even able to move past the rape all together and he felt completely at peace with everything that had happened to bring his son into his life. He and Arella had even decided to take the chance to bring a new life into this world and were now expecting a set of twins. Everything felt right. But peace is never lasting for demons and Mammon has always been unlucky.

It was five minutes. Five. Damn. Minutes. Mammon should have known better. Cyrus had gone with his father to one of his photoshoots. Typically, he kept the boy in his sights at all times but this time he allowed his director to turn his attention elsewhere for a better shot from a different angle. When the demon turned back to check on his child, Cyrus was nowhere to be seen and the Avatar of Greed panicked. It was only five minutes but he was gone. He hoped the little one had just gone off to use the bathroom and would be back shortly, but after a few minutes of nervous waiting, Cyrus never reappeared.

The whole set went into a frenzy searching for the child but he was nowhere to be found in the building. Mammon wanted to scream. How could he have let this happen? His child was taken. The white-haired demon couldn’t even finish the photoshoot as he dashed out the door searching- looking for any possible trail that would lead him to Cyrus, but there was nothing. Not even a scent trail to follow. He feels his heart break as horrible thoughts ran rampant through his head. That crushing weight from five years earlier was back.

With shaking hands, he pulled out his D.D.D. from his pocket and called his older brother. Told him everything that happened. How he let his child be abducted because he got careless, how he’s searched every conceivable place he could think of. After that, the entire family mobilized. Levi ordered his Navy to search for the boy, other smaller search parties were formed as well but nothing ever came of them. They even asked Solomon to search the mortal world and there were some leads but that too led to dead ends.

Mammon, Arella and the rest of the Avatars were left heartbroken by the loss. Not even with the birth of their twins were the parents able to find peace. Six months went by, then a year, then three- after five, the searches were called off. His body was never found, which left everyone with hope. It was hope that Mammon would hold onto until he was left with no other choice.

———————————————————————-

Next

There’s one more part left: an epilogue stay tuned folks.

Find more on my masterlist

[stitch1830]

Reassurance

Happy Kantoph Mondangst! These titles may be getting worse, but hopefully the chapters aren't... time will tell ope. Despite the angst, I hope you enjoy :)

......

“Are you up?”

His form shifted in the bed as he lazily turned to face her. She could hear the tiredness in his breath that indicated that no, he wasn’t up, but even if she didn’t perceive that, she would’ve known he was lying when he replied, “Yeah, what’s up?”

A gentle hand rubbed her arm in an attempt to comfort her, and the combination of his casual fib and sleepy gesture of comfort made Toph smile just a bit. But even then, she couldn’t ignore the unsettling feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach and made her toss and turn for the past few nights.

When she didn’t answer right away, he called out again, his tired state wearing off. “Toph? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she quickly reassured, but then bit her lip. Technically, things were okay, but she still felt uneasy. “Well, maybe? I don’t know…”

Kanto’s hand instinctively went to her stomach, coincidentally landing precisely where the baby was kicking. His thumb swiped across her belly, calming down the baby’s activity temporarily, and Toph let out a sigh that was a combination of exhaustion and relief and apprehension. Her hand fell on top of his, and she found the words to describe her thoughts. Well, some of them.

“I’m… I’m just worried, I guess,” she confessed.

“About the baby?”

“Yeah. Well, not the baby specifically. I’m worried about me.”

“Are you worried about the pain—”

“No, no. I mean, I’m not looking forward to it, but... fucking spirits,” Toph muttered. She wasn’t exactly describing her fears in the most coherent fashion, and she was losing the courage to admit what was on her mind.

“Toph,” he whispered, and his voice gave her focus. “You can tell me whatever you want, but only if you want to, okay?”

Toph took a deep breath as she calmed her nerves and felt the rhythmic motion of his thumb across her stomach. He grounded her like the earth, his touch and voice never failed to bring her back to reality. And everyday she thanked the spirits or whoever she needed to thank that fate brought them together.

Courage and actual words found her once again, and she pressed her forehead to his and confessed her fear. “I’m still worried about being a mom.”

Kanto said nothing, but waited for Toph to continue, so she did. “I know we’ve talked about this, but the baby is due any day now, and I just… I still feel like I’m not ready for this. I have no motherly bone in my body, I’ve never even thought about becoming a mother.

“And then the fact that my upbringing was pretty shit? Not the best references. All I know are piss poor parenting techniques.

“And if our kid hates us because of me, I… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His hand moved to wipe away her tears (when did she start crying?), then settled back to her belly, their fingers intertwined this time. He said nothing for a while, and part of Toph cynically thought that perhaps he felt the same way. She prompted him to speak. “Is this your way of saying you agree?” she asked in an attempt to lighten her own mood.

“I wish…” Kanto paused; it was his turn to find the right words. “I wish you could see that you already are an amazing mother.”

Toph blinked, confused. He continued, “Everything you do is for our baby, and even your fears are all because you are worried about their wellbeing and happiness. That tells me everything about the kind of mother you will be. Selfless, thoughtful, loving…

“You could do motherhood in your sleep and by yourself, Toph. That’s how great you’ll be. But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me, and we’ve got your friends.

“I know we won’t be perfect parents, but we have each other to lean on, and if you’re ever worried about anything, I’ll be there.

“And like I’ve told you before, my fatherly intuition says that we’re having a girl that will be just like you, and I couldn’t be more excited about that. I know all your tricks, Chief.”

His teasing remark got a scoff out of Toph, and she removed her hand from his to give him a light shove on the chest. Kanto’s hand captured hers again immediately after, and they laughed as he kissed it.

But everything else that he said, it felt reassuring. Not just in the moment, but as Toph thought through their future as parents, Kanto’s words gave her hope. He was right. Technically, they could be okay parents alone, but together, they would be amazing. And they’d lean on each other not because one would be a better parent than the other and needed help, but they wanted it.

That made all the difference.

Before she could even thank him for talking with her in the middle of the night, he smothered her with kisses all over her face until she was in a fit of laughter. And when she caught her breath, his warm hands found her round belly and so did his lips. He kissed her stomach lightly and spoke to their baby in a mock whispered tone. “Hey baby badgermole, I’ve got a secret for ya.

“Your Mama and I can’t wait to meet you, but there’s something you should know about Mama…

“She’s the Greatest Earthbender in the World, but she’s also the Greatest Mama in the World. She’s always gonna love you and protect you, just like I will.

“I thought you should know how amazing your Mama is before you meet her. And I don’t have a doubt in my mind that you’re gonna be just like her.”

He gave another loving kiss to the baby and hummed a goodnight to them before he made his way back to Toph. Once he settled back in bed, Toph inched her way as close to him as she could, burying her head in his chest and finding comfort in his warm embrace. His chest hummed in content as sleep found them again.

She remembered hearing him whisper right before she soundly slept, filling her with the reassurance that everything would be okay.

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom, Toph. I just know it.”

~~~

“I’m a terrible mother, Zuko.”

The Fire Lord shifted in his seat, startled by the bold statement and waited for an explanation. As he silently stared at her, he took in the beautiful surroundings before their focus turned to the morose topic that lingered over them.

It was a beautiful day in the Fire Nation, one of the first warm days of the season. The Beifongs traveled to the Fire Nation for a bit of a reprieve from Republic City. With the change in season, Zuko and Toph took advantage of the weather by sitting in one of the palace gardens with the children. Zuko watched as Lin clumsily ran around in the grass after Izumi while Kya coaxed the turtleducks to the edge of the pond.

They didn’t have a care in the world, not yet, at least, and Zuko naively hoped they never would.

Toph exhaled deeply, disrupting his observations. “I’m letting her down, I know it.”

Zuko furrowed his eyebrows. “What makes you say that, Toph?”

“I just—” she hesitated. Time made her more closed off, and it always took her a moment longer to admit more feelings.

But Zuko was patient, and he knew if he waited long enough, she’d open up.

Toph took another labored breath. “She’s looking for him. Everywhere we go. She wants him, not me. Which, I get, because I’d want him instead of me, too. If that wasn’t hard enough, everything she does reminds me of him.

“And I can’t stand it. I can barely hold her or take care of her because every other word she says is ‘Dada’ and I nearly break down when he’s mentioned. What kind of mother can’t even take care of her kid without wishing her dead boyfriend was around instead? What does that say about me?!”

He glanced over at Lin, who was crouching down to the ground with her cousins and gently patting the shell of a baby turtleduck. She seemed happy, content. Even if her mother was struggling.

“You’ve just had to deal with a lot right now, no one expects you to be perfect, Toph,” he reassured her. “Lin’s okay, she’ll be okay.”

“She won’t be okay if her mom keeps sulking around like this. Sure, maybe it’s fine now while she’s a baby, but she’s gonna grow up, and she’s gonna think I hate her.”

“No she won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zuko said nothing, and Toph cynically chuckled. “He said she’d be just like me, but I can only see his traits in her. She’s got his heart, the noises she makes when she sleeps are his, and her hands are his. And I just know she’s gonna have his laugh, and it’s gonna break me.”

“Toph—”

“He said I could do this in my sleep,” she interrupted as she rubbed her eyes. “That I would be a great mom on my own if I had to, but he was wrong.

“He should be here, he’d be better at this than me.”

“Toph,” Zuko began again, “he’s only been gone a year. We’re here to help so you both can heal. Please don’t think you’re alone in this with him gone. You’ve talked with Aang, but have you talked with Katara at all about how you feel? I can interrupt her meeting if—”

“No, your lives shouldn’t change because mine did,�� she interrupted.

“Our lives don’t have to change dramatically, but you also shouldn’t think that this is all your weight to carry.”

“But it is,” she insisted, her voice raising with every word she said. “Lin is my kid, I lost my partner, I have to raise her alone, even if I can’t.”

A heavy silence fell between the two friends. All they could hear were the sounds of children giggling and turtleducks quacking.

It pained Zuko to see Toph like this. She was trying to be so strong for Lin, and she was strong. Her ability to persevere was unlike any he had seen. Toph went to work, searched for Kanto’s killer, stayed in touch with her friends and kept them up to date on her feelings, and raised Lin. And she was raising Lin well, amazing even, considering all that they had been through.

He just wished she would see that as well.

But that was a tough sell to convince Toph that she was doing amazing in spite of everything. No matter how many ways he spun it, Zuko’s words didn’t reassure Toph; it seemed that no one’s words of encouragement comforted Toph anymore.

Lin approached Toph, and their conversation ended as abruptly as it began. Zuko watched as Toph picked up Lin without hesitation, a hint of a smile grew as the toddler rambled on about her day with the turtleducks. In between the story, Toph’s head leaned in toward Zuko, and she quietly suggested, “Think it’s time for a snack.”

So they left to grab an afternoon snack, and Zuko’s eyes never strayed from Toph and Lin, not even when Kya and Izumi asked to run ahead. He just couldn’t shake his vision away from them as he saw the adoration Lin had for Toph, and the love and anguish in Toph’s eyes as she listened to her daughter chat. Zuko could visibly see Toph’s strength and perseverance as she walked into the palace, and yet, she remained unconvinced of her capabilities. The Fire Lord sighed, wishing he knew how to help Toph, what to say. But not many could reassure Toph. Well, Kanto did. He knew all the right things to say to calm her, to give her strength.

Who could she lean on for that now that he was gone?

Zuko didn’t know the answer.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

You Can Just Stay (Under This Weight)

Joe Toye x Reader One Shot

Requested?: lol nah fam. I’m just a sucker for soft intimacy in the middle of violent conflicts

Warnings: potty words, a messy attempt at describing hair brushing, a most likely shoddily written Joe Toye, like a skosh of angst, 90% just wish fulfillment and fluff (sorry) 

Ya girl listened to Lullaby by Mary Glenn while writing this nonsense, a perfect song to sway to alone in the dark (but like in a dreamy/fun way?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With a final grunt of frustration, you threw the paddle of your broken hairbrush across the room, causing Perconte, Bill, Luz, and Joe Toye to startle as it clacked loudly to the ground.

 “Gees, Y/N,” Bill snapped, hand on his chest as if he could manually slow down his racing heart. “Don’t do that shit- fucking thought we were under attack—”

You didn’t bother to listen to the complaining sounds of upset coming from the men sitting to your left, snatching up your gun and bag before storming out of the room and heading towards the bedroom you and Joe had been assigned to for the night.

Part of you felt bad for scaring your friends by your childish outburst. The logical part of you knew that throwing your broken hairbrush had been unnecessary and needlessly disruptive and loud.

But the other part of you- the part that was sick of feeling like a goddamned invalid since you’d been shot in the hand?

Well, that part of you wanted to cause much more destruction than that.

When you got to the room dropped your stuff unceremoniously to the ground and grimaced at how loud that was, too.

The whole thing was ridiculous, and if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself you probably could’ve kept your immaturity in check.

But, after catching a stray bullet through some of the meat of your right hand from some ammo-wasting sham of a shooting competition between some drunk NCOs, you had found yourself in a bad mood that not even Luz and Liebgott could shake you from.

You were a sniper, your whole life was tied to your right hand and it’s steadiness in the field. Having that taken away, even for a little while, just served to remind you that that was about the only thing you were good for:

Shooting, reloading, firing. 

Without your gun, you were just another mouth for the mess officers to feed.

Just a stupid woman, in the way of the ‘big, brave men’ of the Airborne. 

Looking down at your bandaged hand, you sighed with defeat.

Roe had already been on your case about taking it easy, adamant that you shouldn’t push yourself lest risk further injury.

But tonight, you hadn’t even attempted to do anything high risk.

All you’d tried to do was brush your hair- something you had been attempting (and ultimately failing) to do for the past four weeks. Tonight you’d finally managed to get your hair out of it’s matted braid, your left hand managing to finger comb the three knotted sections apart with limited assistance from your right.

The moment you had tried to detangle the mess you’d realized you were going to need to utilize your right hand more. Of course, when it became painfully clear that your hand wasn’t yet up to the task of even holding on to the ratty ends of your hair, you’d allowed all of the frustration to boil over- lashing out like some toddler being denied their juvenile demand.

Now you were stuck with your tangled hair hanging around your face, unable to either brush or rebraid it.

 You hadn’t realized that someone had come in until you hear the click of the door as it closes, and when you whip your head around you realize that you’ve started to cry.

“What?” you asked harshly, voice softening at the last moment when you came face to face with Joe Toye.

He had an uncomfortable look on his face, and quickly you brought your left hand up to wipe the evidence of your tears away.

“Oh, sorry Joe,” you muttered, sniffing pathetically before clearing your throat and moving towards the spot on the floor you’d claimed earlier to be your bed for the night. “I'll get out of your way—”

“Y/N”

When you turned back to look at him you saw him holding up the still-surviving paddle of your hairbrush, a tight smile on his lips.

You grimace, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze once more.

“Great, thanks….”

When you step closer to reach for it he hesitates, moving the brush infinitesimally away from your reach and looking at you worriedly.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and when you open your mouth to dismiss his concerns he furrows his brows and shakes his head. “And don’t tell me you’re okay or fine or whatever you were gonna say, because I know it’s bullshit.”

You scoff, chest feeling tight. “Joe—”

He gives you an exasperated look, crossing his arms across his chest and peering down his nose at you. 

Great, the Toye Staredown. As if i didn’t already feel like a petulant child…..

“I’ve known you for two goddamn years Y/L/N. I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot.”

Holding his glare, you sigh heavily and wipe at your runny nose.

“If anyone in thisroom deserves to be called a stupid idiot, I think I’m the more fitting candidate.”

Joe’s glare turns into a look of concern. One of the things he’d first loved about you was your quick wit and your refusal to bend under his good-natured ribbing. 

Seeing you look so defeated scared him.

When you made to poinch the bridge of your nose, Joe stepped in and caught your elbow. At first you were confused until you realized that you’d been about to use your right hand.

You bark a humorless laugh, letting your head loll back in rueful amusement.

“For fuck’s sake….”

Rough hands find your cheeks and tilt your face back so you’re looking at him again, and he murmurs something under his breath when he sees tears reforming in your eyes.

“What’s going on, huh? Talk to me, Y/N/N—”

“I’m useless.”

Like some dam bursting, you find yourself weepily confessing how useless you feel you’ve become, how you were questioning everything you’d once assumed to be true about yourself.

How horribly painful it was to hear about the replacements who were dying in your place while you were being kept in the relative safety of the XO camp.

To his credit, Joe didn’t interrupt you once. 

He’d listened as attentively as he would during a mission objective briefing, emitting a small tsking sound whenever your voice broke with a fresh wave of tears. Through your senseless babbling, you realized that this was the longest you’d ever seen him go without interrupting someone.

You hadn’t been able to mask your embarrassed scoff when you admitted why you’d lost your cool earlier, face hot with more than just shame.

When you’d finally stopped, Joe had nodded and taken a deep breath. 

“What can I do?”

Closing your eyes, you shake your head. “No, no, no! Joe- that’s not why….I don’t expect you to do anything—”

His thumbs wipe at the tear tracks under your eyes before he whispers your name and cuts you off, quietly telling you to look at him.

Joe’s gaze is unbearably soft, more gentle than you’ve ever seen it.

“Go sit down.”

You furrow your brows, but when you go to ask what he was planning he takes one of his hands away from your face to point towards the pile of blankets the two of you had gathered earlier.

“Drink water while you’re at it, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

Aah, there he is. There’s the Mama Toye I remember from Toccoa.

When he gave you a look that made it clear that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, you sigh and walk over to where he’d directed you and sit heavily in the pile of blankets.

You sip from your canteen as you watch Joe shrug off his overcoat and pull off his knit cap. You couldn’t help but smile as he finger combed his dark hair back into place, finding yourself admiring how handsome he looked with it slightly overgrown and smoothed away from his handsome face.

 Ever since he’d kissed you in the middle of the Eindhoven liberation celebration, you couldn't deny that things between the two of you had ….changed.

Nothing had been established, nor had either of you spoken about it. Yet there was certainly a closeness that existed where there hadn’t been before- a sort of mutually understood agreement that you’d pair up for patrols and eat meals together.

Each night Joe would ensure that you slept by his side, and by morning you always woke up with him curled around you protectively. If the others noticed, they made no mention of it- which, considering Joe Toye’s fiery temper, was probably more for their sake than for yours.

And even if they did, you got the feeling Joe wouldn’t change a thing.

 He catches you watching him and smirks, shooting you a wink as he strides over confidently.

“At least buy a guy dinner first before eye-fucking him like that….”

You shot him a glare that only served to make him grin wider. “Thanks Joe, I’ll try to rein it in.”

He snorted a laugh as he came to sit behind you, his right leg kicked out beside yours while he scooted closer.

You turn to look at him curiously over your shoulder, unable to stop your cheeks from heating up when you see that he’s got your hairbrush in his hand.

“Uh, what’re you doing back there, Joseph?”

He leans to the side a bit so you don’t have to strain as hard to look at him, mirroring your curious expression.

“What does it look like? I’m gonna tame this rat’s nest you’ve been growing for the past month.”

You blush in earnest at that, mouth going dry when he picks up a knotted tendril and brings your brush to the ends.

With a gentleness that you hadn’t expected, he dutifully begins to patiently detangle the strands, pinching the hair’s shaft to ensure you don’t feel any tugging or snags.

Well…..This certainly was not how i thought things were going to go down tonight…. 

After sitting in stunned silence for far too long, you finally will yourself to speak.

“Uhh, you’re brushing my hair.”

He hums. “That’s right. Good observation.”

“But….you are doing it, um, well?”

“Wow, you shoulda been in intelligence- nothing gets past you.”

You huff at his snark and shoot him a baleful look.

“Joseph.”

His dark eyes meet yours with a slightly inpatient glint in them.

“Are you going to let me do something nice for you, or are you going to overthink and fight about it?”

Before you can respond he’s resumed his gentle brushing, and with another deep sigh you resign yourself to your fate.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t like it, or that you didn’t whole-heartedly appreciate Joe’s kindness- in fact, you were beginning to get anxious that you may enjoy it too much.

It’s just….you couldn't remember the last time someone had touched your hair, let alone brush it for you. Maybe childhood….? Certainly long before Toccoa. It felt so intimate now- nearly as intimate as that kiss you’d shared.

And, if you weren’t mistaken- Joe seemed to be aware of the intimacy as well.

Every so often his eyes would find yours and he’d look at you warmly, the small smile on his lips growing whenever you unintentionally shuddered as the brush scratched deliciously across your scalp.

When he finished brushing your hair out, he surprised you further by instantly beginning to resection your hair and french braid it.

“How did you….how long have you known how to braid?”

He chuckled at that, bringing a hand up to turn your head away from him before continuing to twist and weave your hair into what you suspected to be a pretty adequate braid.

“Well, i may or may not have figured it out while sitting behind you during lectures back in Toccoa, but don’t —”

“What—?!”

“....get weird about it….” he sighs, holding his hand over your shoulder palm up and wiggling his fingers impatiently until you gave him a hair tie. He wrapped the elastic around the ends before smoothing his hand down the braid, allowing his hand to drift to your shoulder so he can knead into the tense muscle.

The moan you emit is near pornographic, and a laugh catches in your throat when Joe curses under his breath like you’ve punched him.

“That feel good, Y/N?” he teases good-naturedly, but simultaneously brought his other hand up to massage at the other shoulder and made you groan again.

“Don’t know, ask me again in five minutes.”

The two of you chuckle before falling into a comfortable silence, the only sound being your quiet sighs of pleasure and his echoing hums of confirmation.

After about ten minutes of having his hands exploring your upper back you hesitantly sat back slightly so you could lean into the strong plane of his chest.

“Joe, thank you.” your voice is slow and heavy, and you feel more relaxed than you imagined possible considering the circumstances that brought you two together in the first place. “I….you are nicer to me than i deserve—”

He snorted at that, wrapping his arms around you and resting his cheek atop your head. “Shut up and let me enjoy this. It’s been too long since it was just us….”

You blush at that, glad he can’t see your face as you smile privately.

“Didn’t know you, uh, wanted there to be time with ‘just us’.”

Joe moved his hold on you so he could look down at you, a look of amused confusion on his face.

“What’re you talkin’ about? Course I do. You think I would follow you ‘round like a goddamn lovesick dog if I didn’t at least enjoy your company a little bit?”

You feel a dumb smile cross your face, and before you can reply he pinches your chin lightly and angles your face up a bit more so he can kiss you soundly on the lips. 

Just like the last time, everything around you seems to fade into insignificance, and all you can hear and smell and feel and taste is Joe Toye. You part your lips and deepen the kiss, carefully moving your injured hand up and over his shoulder so you can wrap your arm around his shoulders.

With a happy hum, Joe nibbles on your bottom lip and smiles.

“I’ll take this as a good sign, as far as the kissing is concerned?” he half asked, moving to twist your bodies so he’s leaning over you while simultaneously laying you down softly against the blankets.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him with so much love and affection it makes your chest ache.

“How observant you are, Mr. Toye. Should’ve been an intelligence officer.”

The look he gives you is wicked, and when he ducks down to kiss your cheek he lets his lips linger at your ear. “Maybe you’ll let me show you all the other things I’m really good at sometime, huh?”

Letting the fingers of your uninjured hand bury themselves in his dark locks, you croon a warm affirmation.

“Oh, you can count on that, handsome. Just wait till I get the okay to use my other hand, I’ll return the favor.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Or you could hold me now—”

He cuts you off with another overwhelming kiss that promised so much more.

“Ma’am….you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~ ~ ~ ~~ TAG LIST: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​

Per usual, thank you so much for reading my mess! Let me know if you wanna be tagged, or if you’ve got any requests (barring Perconte and Sobel)

[romanceimp]

The Canary Pt. 2 Todoroki x F!

hi, this is pt 2 of my Shouto Todoroki x musician!reader where its a hot mess bc its kinda a love triangle with Enji????

Listen if ya missed pt 1... its here

TW: anything on my page is 18+, fuck outta here children and get some juice... manipulative relationships, messy love situation/ love triangle, hints at abusive relationship (between reader and her ex), her ex is also a drug addict... and a criminal... if you're wondering why this is such a messy fic its inspired by my watching the show euphoria... 

and lemme address this: i know enji got a redemption arc but i wanted to write him with a similar vibe to nates dad from euphoria... to explore the manipulative sides of age gap relationships or relationships with clearly unbalanced power dynamics, my portrayal of him here is not what i would deem perfectly canon but more a vessel for the plot and ideas i want to explore with this piece and the complexities within it, now... that being said... i give you a long awaited pt 2 to The Canary

You watch as Shouto opens the front door and slips away into the night. The door closes and upon hearing the latch click you realize you’d been holding your breath. You exhale long and slow, still stunned by Shouto’s vulnerability. He worries he will never be able to save himself. Yes, you very much relate to that problem. There is something about Shouto that scares you, looking at him in person, it feels like he is someone you’d known forever, that you should have memories of him but the place in your mind that they should be, is blank.

How he feels about you is still incredibly unclear. You had been very aware of how carefully he watched you during your meal, his eyes seemingly tracking each of your movements and committing them to memory. Dinner was uncomfortable, you had wanted to hide and simultaneously prove yourself to him; that you were different from his idea of who you must be considering the circumstances. You knew what he thought; that you were just some shallow girl dating his dad for the money. But that wasn’t the truth.

Maybe someday you and Shouto would learn the truth of who the other was, your pasts, desires for the future, and maybe what that feeling was that made him seem so familiar. You could easily picture yourself trying to make him laugh on a warm spring day and you smile to yourself.  

“Well I’m glad to see you smiling,” Enji remarks as he sits next to you on the couch. “Shouto can be a bit harsh, I apologize…” Enji murmurs and wraps his arm around you, a protective and comforting gesture. “No, it’s okay, it’s only natural for him to feel suspicious or confused,” you console. You pull your legs onto the couch and snuggle into the cushions.“I’ll talk to him about it,” he offers but you shake your head. “No, it’s really okay, I think he’s warming up to me.” Enji raises an eyebrow at you and smiles slightly. “Shouto doesn’t warm up to others easily… or at all,” he dismisses and kisses your cheek. You look up at him and blink. “I’m not worried ‘bout it… best to just give it time,” you smile. Enji gives you a single nod before his expression falls stern.  “As much as I enjoy your optimism, we need to discuss Friday, I won’t be able to go and I don’t want you going alone.” You inhale slowly and hold your breath until you can figure out the words exactly.

“Enji, I told you, I can take care of myself for a night, I don't need you to watch over me every time I do a gig.” His gaze bores into yours, eyes piercing. “And I’ve asked  you nicely not to play this weekend, you’re sophisticated now, a place like the Viper Lounge should be considered beneath you.” You move away from his touch, crossing your arms. While Enji is more supportive than anyone else about your music career, he still didn’t understand. He had been a hero, a place like The Viper is considered scummy in his circle but for you it’s the holy grail of performance venues. You explain time and time again and the words are becoming dull and grey with repetition. “It’s one of the best places for someone who’s looking to get scouted to perform… and the Viper  invited me, that's a big deal.” Enji shifts to face you, “I know this feels big to you but it’s just a small set in a shitty dive.”

A part of you wanted to cry hearing those words, but the tears didn’t come. Just a small, sad smile. “There’s going to be talent scouts and agents there… just to see who was selected for the line up and I’m the closing set… It's a pretty big deal.”  

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

Shouto walks from the house, his head filled with thoughts of you. Your smile, your voice, that ridiculous yellow guitar. Your eyes, their inquisitive nature. He thinks back to his answer to your question, “I'm afraid that no matter how many people I save, that I’ll never be able to save myself.” He sighs, he can’t remember the last time he could be so honest with someone, let alone someone who was practically a stranger… But there is something about you that seems oddly familiar, though for what reason he felt this way was unclear.

He is about halfway to his car when he feels how light his pants pocket is. His phone… he must have left it inside somewhere, maybe the kitchen? He sighs, he doesn’t want to return to the house, to have to look at you again after being so honest. He had been bold in hopes of- well he isn’t all that sure why he had said something like that so openly, all he knows is the heat is creeping to his cheeks. He takes a breath before hesitantly opening the door. He collects himself, hoping you wont be able to see his embarrassment.

“I told you, there will be plenty more opportunities and you won't have to perform in such a dump,” he hears his fathers voice. He knows that voice… Shouto opens his mouth to call out but shuts it again hearing your icy tone, “you’re not listening... Enji.” Shouto’s eyebrows raise in surprise, you’re not as childish as he first thought. In fact, it seems you’re holding your own against his father in an argument of sorts. He hears Enji laugh mockingly, “I’m not listening? What about Kai?” There’s a long pause, the sound of cicadas filling Shouto’s ears while the name Kai tumbles around his mind. He knew that name from somewhere. “What about Kai?” your voice is so low he can barely hear it. “Is he going to be there?” Enji pushes. Your voice raises slightly in aggravation, “I don't know, I don't talk to Kai, I haven’t said a word to him since the day I left.” Enji scoffs, “Really? It’s suspicious that the Viper Lounge invites you to perform when you’re almost a year out of that scene, he has connections there, what if he’s just using this “gig” as an excuse to get close to you? C’mon y/n, use your head.” Enji’s tone is viciously condescending. Shouto clenches his jaw, waiting for your reply. “I’ve thought about that possibility, but it's an event to showcase new upcoming artists and I haven’t performed there solo before, so I don’t find it totally unbelievable they would ask me.” For once Enji has no rebuttal and you take that as your cue to continue. “Kai isn’t even in the line up… and even if he was, I’m going because this is important to me, this has nothing to do with him.”

Shouto couldn’t keep standing outside listening, he had to get his phone now. He briskly steps inside and shuts the door loudly behind him. “I left my phone,” he announces as he walks through the house to the kitchen. The silence that follows his interruption makes him worry you both figured out he had been listening, though perhaps you were both just embarrassed to be caught arguing. He finds his phone by the kitchen sink and pockets it quickly, before heading back towards the door. He nods towards you both before turning his back.

“Hey Shouto?” The sound of your voice stops him in his tracks. He shifts carefully to face you and sees your eyes glinting with mischief. “You own a hero agency right?” Shouto nods, watching carefully to see where you were going with this. “I’m sure then that you would have a hero capable of a simple bodyguard job, for just this little gig I’m doing on Friday, I know it’s last minute so if you don’t have anyone… I’ll be fine.” He had to play this carefully so as not to expose himself for eavesdropping. “Where’s the gig?” “The Viper Lounge,” Enji scoffs. His father must be furious that you’ve now involved a third party. If there was something Enji Todoroki hated, it was airing his dirty laundry. Shouto was careful not to laugh… you were far smarter than he initially gave you credit for.

“I’ve performed at the Viper before… tons of times-``''You have, but only with Kai Chisaki.” Your face tells Shouto that name hits a sore spot. Hearing his whole name sparks Shouto’s memory and he realises who Kai is. Kai Chisaki, an underground rapper… face tattoos and some nasty habits that earned him a hell of a rap sheet; burglary, assault, possession of unlicensed weapons, public indecency, drug counts too high to keep track of… He’d been arrested again a few months ago, but just like the last, he was bailed out and the charges were dismissed.

“But the Viper asked me to be a part of this gig for showing off upcoming talent… Enji’s just worried for me because he can't be there and my ex has a reputation- ``''That’s putting it lightly,” Enji interrupts, “he’s scum, deserves to rot in prison.” You rub your palms on your thighs and smile gently at Shouto. “I just think the situation would be more comfortable for everyone if I had some protection… Maybe you know of someone that could watch out for me for the night?”

Shouto resists the urge to volunteer, though the temptation of hearing your voice again is overwhelming. “Tch- as if I would trust any of the foolish heroes Shouto babysits to watch after you in that cesspool…” You gaze at Enji with big doe eyes, your body turning, hands inching towards his father’s legs. “You trust Shouto don’t you?” Enji pauses, before he sighs “I do.” You give him a winning smile, “then he’ll pick someone fit for the job.” Enji’s brow creases pensively, “Shouto,” he addresses. Shouto meets his father’s eyes, his heartbeat quickening as he realises what he’s about to ask. “What are your plans Friday? Could you take her?”

Shouto pretends to consider it, but really he counts the seconds until he can agree. He didn’t really know what it was about you that made him want to go with you so badly to this gig. It’s a separate part of himself that Shouto was unfamiliar with, a part of him that wasn’t thinking but desired only to know you… or understand you? There was just something about you. That was all he knew for sure. He nods, trying his best to hide his true feelings. “I could make arrangements to accompany y/n, as long as,” he looks at you, “you’re comfortable with that.” You hold out your hands defensively and shake your head, “if you have to move things around- you’re so busy- I-I don’t wanna cause you any trouble.” Shouto dismisses your statement, “it’s not trouble, I wouldn’t agree otherwise.”

You shift uncomfortably, “as long as you’re sure…” Shouto turns towards the door, facing forward as he leaves you with these words. “It’s important to you, right? Just accept my help.” He opens the door, and holds the frame tightly. He knows he shouldn’t, he hears the chorus of voices telling him not to look back, but it's that one part of him again that takes control and turns his head. He can’t help but smile slightly seeing your expression. Mouth parted and brow raised slightly in surprise. Beautiful.

“We’ll connect about details sometime during the week,” he confirms, “see you Friday.” He hears you call out your gratitude as he closes the door and makes for his car. He slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine and looks towards his childhood home. The light from the windows casts a glow onto the grass. He finally exhales and with each new breath he gains more clarity about the situation. He shouldn’t care about you, he can’t let himself get any closer. He would help you with this gig and go back to avoiding family dinner like the plague. Shouto leans his head back into the seat and puts the car in reverse. He tries his best to shake off these thoughts but that little devil on his shoulder keeps cackling and whispering suggestions he chooses to immediately ignore.

He pulls out of the driveway and onto the road, pushing thoughts of you away and doing his best to find another topic to think about, something to distract him from the confusion of his swirling emotions. But as much as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about you.

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

if you want to be added to the taglist its here

[lorewhoresam]

They Didn’t Even Have To Plot

AO3

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Fluff

Summary: Castiel becomes human after losing his grace on a hunt. Charlie comes to visit, and gets Sam to make Dean talk about his feelings. It was easier than either of them expected.

Something I wrote for a fic exchange a while back, hope ya like it guys

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

Castiel should have known better.

He should have known a witch powerful enough to capture the Winchesters wasn’t actually interested in money. He should have known it was a trap.

No one that smart ever wanted money.

She knew he was an angel. She knew to pray when they asked him for the ransom.

When he arrived at the place the witch had ordered him to drop off the money, a flash of bright, white light blurred his vision before it went black.

Castiel struggled against the bindings on his wrists, ankles and neck, but found himself stuck, the cold metal digging into his skin. He can’t break free using his grace, so they must have been warded against angels.

“Witch! Let me go, I have your money!”

“My dear Castiel, did you really think I wanted money? I want your power. Your grace.”

She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, and Castiel couldn’t help but be taken aback by it.

“Where’s Dean?” he hissed, glaring at her.

A smug smile spread across the witch’s face.

“Sounds like I got the right bait. So what’s going to happen now, is you’re going to give me your grace, or I will rip your little pets apart, piece by piece.”

Castiel knew what he had to do. It's not like he had a choice, Dean and Sam would both die if he didn’t do this. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t been human before, and it hadn’t been that disastrous, even without any guidance. At least this time he would have a home.

“Get these off me. And give me my angel blade back.”

“So you’ll do it.”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, he was back at the bunker, Dean and Sam with him, alive and well, but without his grace, and without his angel blade.

“Cas, you okay? You seem a little out of it.”

Dean sat down next to Cas on the couch and looked at him, obviously concerned.

“Yes Dean, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Cas said, looking down to avoid Dean’s gaze. “Bullshit, but I’ll take it for now.”

Castiel knew he should have told him that he lost his grace, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t want to be a burden, and he knew Dean would blame himself, even though Castiel made that choice himself.

He’s exhausted, and although he has been human before, he’s still not used to it. falling asleep is easier than he remembered, but maybe that’s just because he has a home now.

Waking up is harder than it was before. Castiel fades in and out of consciousness, and he can’t force himself to stay awake for more than a few seconds at a time. Suddenly he feels a hand on his cheek, rough and calloused, but warm. He hears someone murmur words in his ear, but he can’t understand them, and he’s abruptly aware that he’s being held, and he panics for a moment, before the steady rise and fall of his chest let’s him know that whoever it is isn’t restraining him. He turns his head against the chest and drifts back off to sleep.

When Castiel wakes up, he feels the body under him shift.

“Hey sunshine, good nap?”

Castiel grumbled in answer and sat upright, stretching his body.

“Now, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

“I lost my grace.”

Dean’s eyes widened in concern, and he gently put a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“What happened?”

And he told him. And he could see the guilt form itself in his eyes.

“Dean, it’s not your fault. I made that choice. I was the one who did not realise there was something wrong.”

“I know Cas. I just– Fuck!”

Dean punched the side of the couch and jerked Cas towards him, holding him close.

“If you need anything, you can come to me. You know that right?” Dean said, without letting Cas go.

Instead of answering Castiel just pressed himself closer to Dean’s chest and let himself cry. He had considered becoming human before, but he wanted to choose that fate, and do it on his own terms, and now that choice has been taken away, and he didn’t know what to do. He was lost.

----------------- Castiel hid in his bedroom the few days after the incident, only coming out to go to the bathroom or to eat. It was very frustrating, hunger and exhaustion, and it didn’t help that he was constantly fearing the moment the Winchesters would decide that he was never going to be useful again, and kick him out.

His thoughts were interrupted at once by a loud knock on the door.

“Cas, can I come in?”

Castiel got up from his bed to open the door for Dean.

“Hello Dean.”

They both sat down on the bed, and Castiel looked at him expectantly.

“Alright, so Charlie’s here, and we’re going shopping, because you need clothes.”

“Dean, I have clothes.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, mine. Not that I mind, but it would be nice for you to have your own. And you need to get out of here for a while. See some actual light.”

Castiel sighed, and agreed reluctantly, if that is what it takes for him to stay even a few days longer, he’d do it.

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

It was actually quite nice, browsing through clothing racks, chatting about nothing in particular with people he loved. After a few hours, they decided to go to a diner— mainly because Dean wouldn’t stop whining about how hungry he was.

“So how are you doing Cas?” Charlie looked at him worried.

“I’m fine.”

“Cas,” Dean said sharply.

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine, I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Dean looked at him in disbelief before hugging him.

“You’ll never be a burden,” he whispered, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple before releasing him.

“You two are so disgustingly cute together,” Charlie said while making fake gag sounds.

Dean and Castiel both flushed and stumbled over their words trying to clarify that they were not, in fact, together. Charlie just raised her eyebrows and smiled knowingly.

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

“So, Sam, what’s going on between those two?”

Charlie sits down on top of the map table where Sam is reading a lore book.

“You know perfectly well what’s going on Charlie. They may be too stupid to see it but you definitely aren’t.”

She rolls her eyes and claps his book close.

“We should do something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam would complain that he was reading that, but this was definitely more interesting.

“Oh you know perfectly well what I mean Sam,” Charlie mocked him, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.

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

“Cas.”

“Yes Dean?”

Dean looked at him worried.

“Come tell me if you need anything at all. You’re not a burden.”

“Dean, I know that without my powers I am useless to you. You don’t need to pretend I’m not for my comfort.”

“Fuck Cas! It’s not about whether you’re useful to us or not, you’re family! We love you!”

Castiel stood there, paralised, when he felt a tear roll down his cheek, and suddenly he was sobbing uncontrollably. He felt himself be enveloped in warm arms and pressed against his chest, but it was as if it was happening to someone else, like he was just a spectator to the scene. He only realised his breathing had sped up when he heard Dean tell him to stay calm and take deep breaths.

“Hey buddy, I’m here, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

Dean rubbed soothing circles on Cas’ back until he had calmed down.

“I think I just had a panic attack,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “Thank you Dean.”

“Do you want to go get some air?”

Dean stood up and reached a hand out to Castiel.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He took the hand and stood up as well. To his surprise, Dean didn’t let it go and they walked handed-in-hand into the cool autumn air.

“Maybe we should plant a garden here. What do you think Cas?”

“That would be nice.” Does he know he’s still holding my hand?

“We could put a bench over there.” Does he mind that I’m still holding his hand?

“Hmm.” Does he mind?

“Are you okay, Cas? You look a little pale.” Am I making him uncomfortable?

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean gave his hand a light squeeze.

“You’ll tell me if you’re not, right?”

Cas gave him a short nod in response.

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

Sam leaned against the door frame of Dean’s room.

“Hey Dean, how’s it going with Cas?”

“He’s not doing so well, but better than a few days ago.”

“At least he’s getting better. And how are you holding up?”

“Me? You know me Sammy, I’m always fine.”

“Yeah, but this stuff with Cas, it’s got to be taking its toll on you too.”

“I mean yeah, but not any more than on you.”

“Dean. The way I feel about Cas is very different from the way you feel about him and we both know it.”

Dean reddened at his ears and stared at the ground.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother expectantly.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. But he’ll never feel the same way, so it’s no use admitting it.”

“Dude. You were holding hands an hour ago. And yes, me and Charlie both saw that.”

“Look, I don’t– I don’t think he gets the meaning of that. It’s probably normal for angels!”

“Dude, he literally has every single piece of media Metatron ever consumed in his head, I’m pretty sure he knows what it means. Just please, talk to him.”

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

A few days later Castiel is obviously less miserable than he was before, and he’s gotten used to being human again.

“Hey Cas, do you want to watch a movie?” Dean yelled from the kitchen, where he was making popcorn.

Cas had agreed, naturally, and so it happened they were on the couch together, a bowl of popcorn and a healthy amount of distance between them, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing on the television.

They were about twenty minutes in when Castiel began to complain.

“Dean you’ve made me watch this movie five times already, how are you not sick of it yet?”

“Dude, you can’t get sick of Clint Eastwood, it’s just not possible.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and grabbed another handful of popcorn. Dean cleared his throat and turned around to face him.

“Uh Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I uh– Sam said– I need to tell you something.”

Cas turned off the tv and turned to him, worried.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, not– not really. I uh, I just need to get this off my chest.”

Castiel nodded for Dean to continue.

“I uh, I think I–” Dean shook his head firmly. “No, I know I’m uh, I’m in love with you.”

It stayed silent for a while, the air thick with tension.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“If I still had my grace the lamps would be shattered.”

“Cas!”

Castiel gently cupped his face with one hand.

“I love you Dean.”

He moved forward and pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. A warmth spread throughout his body, and he smiled into the kiss.

“I guess good things do happen,” Dean whispered softly, before leaning forward to kiss him again.

“I guess they do,” Cas said after they pulled apart, and he put his head on Dean’s shoulder, smiling in satisfaction.

[hydrangeaho3]

Pt 2 of I’m supposed to be your brother

Summary: Wilbur gets mad at Tommy and somehow Phil’s the one left to deal with the aftermath

a/n: hey everyone!! Here’s part 2. This is the last part of the story. 

It’s overwhelming, the silence that surrounds Tommy, on one hand, it’s too loud and on the other, it's not loud enough.

How could have he been so stupid?

He’d told himself over and over again.

They don’t want you around, they don’t find you funny, they just think you’re annoying. The minute you become more annoying than how many views you bring, that's the minute they’ll leave you.

And today it had happened. Wilbur was finally sick of him.

What if that was what everyone thought of him? What if they all just secretly hated him and Wilbur was the only one who had bothered to say it to his face?

He slowly pushed himself out of his chair, shutting down his PC, and closing discord for the night. He crawled into bed just after turning the lights off. He tried to get his mind to shut off after all this was what he had been expecting. Ever since he had been invited to join SMPEarth and had become friends with bigger streamers, he had been dreading this moment.

The moment where he found himself alone and lost in the darkness. Abandoned by all the people he had considered family.

He reaches across to his desk to grab his phone and accidentally brushes his hand against his face. It came away wet.

oh, OH, those were tears. He was crying.

After hours and hours of staring at his ceiling, Tommy finally manages to fall asleep. But before his mind can provide him some solace from the shit day he’s just had, a final thought whispers through his mind.

Why would he say that? He told me that we were brothers.

-----

Tommy wakes up feeling sore, his entire body aching. He rubs his eyes and wonders slightly at the puffiness underneath his eyes before remembering the events of last night.

Oh right, Wilbur had yelled at him last night, well yelled was a nice way to say it. Wil had basically crushed his soul last night.

He sighs before grabbing his phone. The moment he turns the screen on and waits a second for the brightness to adjust, he’s bombarded by notifications. Half of them are from Wilbur. They range from several missed calls to desperate texts that beg him to pick up the phone to finally texts that sound more resigned than anything else, telling Tommy that he’s sorry and to please call him as soon as he can. The rest are from Tubbo, asking him what’s wrong and finally, he has a few surprise texts from Philza and Technoblade telling him to message them if he needs something.

He was about to close his phone and go back to bed when it began to vibrate in his hands. It was Tubbo. He hesitated for just a second before accepting the call.

“Hey Tommy, how are you? I was worried when you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls last night,” Tubbo waited a few moments for Tommy to respond before continuing the conversation by himself.

“umm so Phil told me what happened last night, are you okay? You know Wilbur didn’t mean that right? He was just having a bad day,” Tubbo seems desperate, desperate to convince Tommy that what Wilbur had said wasn’t true. Silence fills the call once again before the sound on Tommy’s end becomes a little too quiet. Tubbo checks his phone and sees that Tommy’s muted himself.

On Tommy’s end, tears start sliding down his face once again. Tubbo’s being so kind but he hadn’t heard Wil last night. He had no way of knowing that Wil had meant exactly what he had said. He tries to gather himself enough so that his voice doesn’t come across as too different.

“um my mom’s calling me Tubbo, I have to go,” Tommy quickly stutters the words out knowing Tubbo will see through his bluff but he needs to get off this call. Tubbo doesn’t deserve this. Tubbo’s always so patient and nice to others, he doesn’t deserve to put up with Tommy’s mess. He manages to press the disconnect button before the tears swarm his vision.

Why is he like this? He just keeps messing up, now Tubbo’s worried when he doesn’t have to be.

He stays in bed for who knows how long before he feels his phone vibrating against his thigh. He turns to see the name Philza Minecraft flashes on the screen. Tommy really doesn’t want to talk to Phil, to the man he considers his second father. He’s going to decline it when his thumb misses because of the tears hindering his vision and ends up pressing accept.

shit shit shit, he doesn’t want to talk to Phil right now.

“Tommy? I know you're there Tommy, Tubbo just told me that he’s talked to you,” when Tommy doesn’t respond, Phil continues to talk, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna so just listen okay? Last night Wil called me crying and he told me that he had blown up at you for no reason, Tommy he was so upset with himself. He doesn’t mean anything he said okay? He was upset at something else and you just happened to be there. Now you don’t have to forgive him or anything but you have to understand that no one thinks you’re annoying. We love to stream with you, you make our lives so much better Tommy. You’re like family,” It’s those last words that break the dam holding back Tommy’s feelings. A stream of words flow from his mouth.

“Then why would he say that Phil? I know that I can be loud sometimes and- and I talk a lot but I don’t understand. I don’t understand,”

“I’m so sorry Tommy. There’s no excuse for what Wilbur said, all I can tell you is that he feels horrible about it,” At this point, there's nothing Phil wants more than to hug Tommy, to tell him that it would all be okay but he couldn't do that. The most he could do was whisper words of comfort across the phone in hopes that it would be enough.

They sit in silence as Tommy lets Phil’s words wash over him. Tommy’s still hurting; the pain still a heavy feeling in his gut threatening to take over his emotions once again. Somewhere in his mind, he knows that Phil and Tubbo are right but Wilbur’s words are still a force in his mind.

“Tommy, look, I know you probably don’t want to but I think it would make you feel better if you talked to Wilbur. I know you think that he’s probably going to yell at you some more but I can promise you that is not what’s going to happen. All he wants to do is say that he’s sorry.”

At this point, the pain has subsided inside of Tommy. Instead of a blistering heat ready to take over, his hurt has simmered down to a point where he feels comfortable enough to talk to Wilbur. He nods at Phil’s words before remembering that Phil can’t see him.

“umm ya, okay, I can talk to Wilbur,” Tommy’s voice scratches his throat as he speaks, rough from disuse.

“I’ll tell him okay? I’ll let him know to call you. You’re going to be okay,” Phil promises. There’s a slight sound as Phil disconnects from the call. Tommy rolls over onto his side, gathering his blankets around him, burrowing into his makeshift nest.

A couple minutes pass as Tommy lays on his bed sifting over what Phil had told him. He knows that Wilbur does love him and that what he had said had been spur of the moment words but regardless they still hurt. They had taken all of Tommy’s insecurities and fears and confirmed them.

But still, it’s hard to stay mad, he doesn’t like the fact that his chest feels all tight, that the words he so desperately wants to speak are stuck in his throat, and that the person he would have immediately sought out comfort from is now unavailable to him through no fault of his own.

It’s quiet again, the sounds of London traffic subdued through his bedroom window. This quiet he doesn’t mind, it’s nothing like the violent quiet that had settled over him and Wilbur the previous night.

This quiet reminds him of the afternoon he spent in Brighton, the first time he had met Wilbur, or the peaceful afternoons spent talking to Tubbo. The quiet settled something in his gut and Tommy was about to fall asleep before a discord notification dragged him out of his trance. It was Wilbur, Phil must have finally told him to call. Sighing softly to himself, he accepts the call.

“Hey Wil,” he murmurs softly, trying not to disturb the tranquility of his room.

“Toms,” Wilbur breathes, “you answered. I wasn’t sure you were going to. I mean Phil had told me to call and had told me that you would pick up but I still wasn’t sure. “ At this point, Wilbur’s rambling and the familiarity of it all brings an unwanted smile to Tommy’s face.

“Phil told me you were going to call to apologize,”

“Yes, yes I am. I am so sorry Toms. What I said to you was completely inexcusable, it was so out of line and the worst part was that I knew how much those words would hurt you, Tommy. I- i consider you family okay? You’re like the brother I’ve always wanted and I know that the last thing I deserve is your forgiveness and it’s fine if you don’t forgive me. You don’t have to do that. But I need to know that you understand that what I said wasn’t true. Okay, Tommy? You know I was wrong right?”

“I- i don’t know Wil. I mean that’s what everyone says right. Everyone thinks I’m annoying, it’s why Vikkstar quit MCC and why Schlatt kept calling me a kid when we first met. I know that you didn’t mean it but that doesn’t mean it's not true.”

Wilbur’s shocked silent as he processes the bomb that Tommy’s dropped on him. He had known that even though Tommy’s persona was loud and energetic it was different from what the kid was like in real life. But he had never known that Tommy’s self-esteem had dropped so low; that the self-loathing ran so deep.

“Tommy stop. No one and I mean no one thinks you’re annoying. Vikkstar didn’t quit MCC because of you, those two things are completely unrelated. Also, I can promise you that Schlatt doesn’t think you’re a child. Just like you play up your persona during streams, so does he. He thinks you’re a great kid with so so much potential,”

“Then why Wilbur, why would you say that?”

Oh, oh that's what's been bothering Tommy. Not the fact that some of his idols had made fun of him but rather the fact that it had been me making fun of him, throwing his insecurities back at him.

“Oh god, i- i am so sorry. Tommy, I never meant that, please you have to believe me,” even though Tommy can’t see him, he can hear the desperation in Wilbur’s words, “oh god, oh god what have I done?” At this point, Wilbur’s talking to himself.

“Wil?” Tommy questions.

“I’m sorry I really am. You don’t have to sit and listen to me anymore if you don’t want to. It’s just important, really important that you know that it isn’t true. It isn’t true at all.”

Wilbur’s about to click off before he hears a small noise coming from Tommy’s end.

“Wil, I’m not mad, not anymore. I just feel empty; so- so empty. I'm tired Wil,”

At these words Wilbur freezes, he knows what that feels like. He knows how the anger can take over before suddenly evaporating into nothing.

“It gets better Tommy, that emptiness cloying inside of you will slowly go away. I know that right now it hurts, and even more than that, you feel empty. But that's not permanent, I promise.” Wilbur’s voice soothes some of the fears aching in Tommy’s heart.

For the past hours, Tommy’s been told by multiple people how loved and appreciated he is. He’d forgiven Wilbur a long time ago but nonetheless, the fears still persisted. But slowly throughout this call, some of the jagged edges have been smoothed over.

“I’m tired Wil,”

“I know. Go back to sleep Tommy, I’ll be here when you wake up,”

“You promise Wil?”

“Of course Toms, I promise. That’s what family does,”

That’s all the reassurance Tommy needs before falling asleep.

The last words that Tommy manages to catch are enough to ensure a dreamless sleep.

“Goodnight Tommy. I love you”

[rwbyconversations]

RWBY Volume 7 Review

Two weeks out from Volume 8 and I finally cared enough to write this. Go team I guess. 

Part of it came down to my feelings on Volume 7. It’s a complicated season that’s made me realize a lot of my overall feelings on RWBY as a series, particularly a lot of the less flattering feelings. Volume 7 is just... frustrating in general, as for all the good that it does have, and it does have a lot of great elements to it, it’s let down by a frustrating script and writing choices that feel distinctly amateurish, especially as the series moves on and gets better and better looking each year. There’s elements and kernals here of great character writing, season-wide arcs that land in a really good way and get me emotionally invested in the characters. But on the other... Ren only has two hundred words the entire season and you can tell! 

Volume 7 is a season of dizzying highs, some of the best moments of the entire franchise... and some of the series lows. It’s a season where there’s no production reason for its shortcomings... it just comes down to an awkward script that focuses on the wrong elements far too often. Let’s talk about that. In a very long and drawn out manner.

Thanks to @jamesbranwen​, @h-e-m-o-goblin​ and @retro-riffraff​ for help with GIFs and consultation on this review.

1) The Good Stuff!

A) Atlas is very pretty!

I cannot stress enough how on a set level, Volume 7 is leaps and bounds above the other seasons in sheer environmental detail and setting dressing. Mantle has a great atmosphere with its New York influences, the smog covered backgrounds and oppressive streets and alleys. Ironwood’s office which is deliberately designed to evoke astronomy themes to represent James’ love for the stars. The cold oppressive atmosphere of the Schnee Manor and how Jacques has begun warping it to glorify him with only lip service paid to Nicholas in public. Penguins! 

There’s a lot of great set design work that went into this season and the crew deserve props for it. Genuinely. 

B) Ironwood’s arc is the best character arc in the entire franchise

Yeah just wearing my heart on my sleeve there, I fucking love Ironwood and his character arc here in Volume 7 is the best written arc of the show. I simp for the tin man who just wants to do the right thing. This one season of content is better than a lot of the series-wide material being honest. I went back to James’s big volumes in the last month to rewatch the show and it’s interesting to see the early seeds in retrospect for where his arc goes. His need to protect everyone he can and the brutish measures he considers necessary for such an act, his conflicting loyalties towards Ozpin that manifest in both frustration at Oz’s seeming apathy to the growing conflict, but also desperate desire for validation from Ozpin that what’s he doing is the right call. After the Mistral seasons set up James as going off the deep end following Volume 3, having him open the season with an earnest smile, an immediate apology for the team’s arrest and trusting them with his plans for Amity and Salem is a jarring but pleasant surprise. He’s not been slacking off, he’s been trying to keep the world together in the way he thinks is best. He lets his guard down around the heroes and we see the good man underneath, which makes the moments where he raises his walls hurt all the more. While Em and Merc are still probably my favorite characters period, James is absolutely my favorite character in Volume 7 and Top 5 favorite characters series-wide. I’m very eager to see where he goes from here. He also rocks the beard and fixed his T-Rex arms so James came out of the washing machine that is Volume 7′s costume design. He truly is the Best Boi, and I cannot give Jason Rose enough credit for his performance this year. He hit every note of Ironwood’s character perfectly and I wish the fandom would give him more credit for giving James as much life as he does.

Oh, and as the obligatory comment on mlm rep that I am known for getting obsessively weird anon hate over: IronQrow hug nearly had me crying on a convention floor from how goddamn soft it was. Remember conventions? Ah good times.

This just... hits me... ya know? Seeing him lower his guard so much to come in for a hug just shows how isolated he’s let himself become to let himself have this moment of contact... Godamnit James. Also this is the second time after Martial Arcs that two guys hug and I really liked their ship for the following hiatus. 

C) Soft Qrow hours are nice

Qrow’s a good guy, he went through a lot of bad stuff in Volume 6 but now he’s on the other side and purged his voice of the demon within. I think Volume 7 was a very good year for Qrow overall. It was great to see him interacting with more characters his age and lowering his own guard. His moments of letting the facade drop around James and Clover especially are great expansion for his character. Jason Liebritch hit the ground running as Qrow and gave him a far more dynamic range than I think Vic could. While I wish Qrow going off alcohol had been given more of a focus as it’s kind of done off-handedly that he’s gone cold turkey and otherwise doesn’t get brought up barring his revulsion at the wine in the Schnee Manor, he overall had a great year. And trust me I’ll get to the fights later, I have a lot more I can say about the bird boi there. 

D) I liked the Ace Ops! 

I was ambivilent towards the Ace Ops on first watching. They’re kinda underdeveloped in the context of the season at large and most people immediately pegged them as a miniboss squad/fodder for Salem to kill. But in rewatch they do still get to shine, if not as brightly. They’re very enjoyable. Clover especially is just really fun in retrospect, I love cocky fighters in general, and he was infectiously enjoyable (I’ve already covered the FG stuff in the past, not doing it again). Marrow came a close second because... well it’s Marrow, he is The Best Boi. Harriet got points for being a punchgirl which is always cool, I liked how her Semblance was shown and being cocky while being able to back it up is always a win. Elm and Vine are tied for dead last, I like the body diversity Elm introduces with her muscles and Vine... existed... but overall I think with the time they had, they did get to establish themselves well. I wish I could say that about their relationship with Team RWBYORNJ but this is the Nice Section so we’ll leave it there for now.

This is one of the best shots of the entire season. I adore it. God I like the Teryx design.

E) God the villains rocked this year! 

I am a villain whore. I own that. I will embrace that monkier. But when they’re as cool as this, I feel validated in this Chilli’s tonight. Watts and Tyrian really make the season shine and don’t have a dud scene all season. They have great chemistry together, shining bright in even the weakest or most mediocre episodes. Watts went from “Oh yeah you exist” tier to “Oh yeah you rule” tier. His vendetta against Ironwood feels so real and pre-established, even though this season is the first time it’s ever come up. Watts just ozzes style in everything he does. The animators bring him to life and make every step, every flick of his twist and even just how he moves his eyes all bleed contempt. He’s such a rat and I love him! Chris Sabat finally gets to stretch his wings after a few years playing Watts as just Evil Scientist Guy, and he makes the most of it. 

And Tyrian remains an absolute treat. He didn’t get much in V6 but here he takes center stage with Watts and also gets so much impact because of it. All the little twitches, and tilting of his heads, and dramatic gestures, he’s still just so goddamn cool to watch and we even get a little backstory of him. I know he’s irredeemable. But I just want to watch Tyrian kill people and scream. Like hot damn his line “THE GRIMM SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED OUR ENEMIES, NOT MADE THEM FRIENDS!” is so fucking raw. He’s having fun destablizing a nation with his boyfriend! 

“You want more chaos than a Grimm invasion?” “If anyone on Remannt can do it, wouldn’t it be you?” There is no heterosexual explanation for how these two look at each other and yes this is me outing myself as a Nuts and Volts fan.

Watts and Tyrian really do become the absolute highlights of the season alongside James. They have a great dynamic and even during their more slower moments there’s so much care and thought put into their every mannerism. Animators, seriously, great job, I love what you did. And their fights... we’ll get there. But they’re so goddamn good. 

Look they even run the same! They’re soulmates! 

Honorary mention to Salem by the way. She’s only in two scenes but her presence is felt throughout Ironwood’s arc and his growing fear of her and she damn well delivers when she shows up. That shot of her arriving in person is a killer shot to end on as well.

Oh and I guess Cinder and Neo exist don’t they? Eh, we’ll come back to them. 

F) Oscar got a character arc!

Finally! He did it! He got an arc that began, continued and ended all onscreen! It only took four tries! 

But yeah Oscar had a really good set of scenes in Volume 7. I like him being the first to confront Ruby on the Ironwood lie, bringing up the hypocrisy after their condemning of Ozpin just last season. I like him having a more forward role (outside of not getting to be part of the celebration in episode 4 what the hell guys), and that he’s the big link between RWBY and Ironwood was a great call. Having Ozpin shelved for one more season so Oscar can take center-stage was an inspired choice. I love his dynamic with Ironwood, and how James closing himself off emotionally gets reflected in how he begins slipping in how he refers to Oscar, starting off as treating him and Oz as separate, ending with him gunning Oscar down as he doesn’t care anymore to differentiate the two.

My big issues with Oscar’s arc are that I’m first of all annoyed at the lack of followup on the Oscar stuff from V6, I’m still waiting for Qrow to apologize for punching Oscar guys! I also really wish Neo’s first attack wasn’t offscreen. CRWBY’s cliffhanger fetish meant I got to break out the Offscreen Pine jokes again. And of course, the Neo hallway punch was a bit bullshit.

G) (Most of) The fights are amazing

There’s no punchline. These fights are great, two of them are in my Top 10 Series Wide fights list and at least the duds aren’t Volume 5 bad.

If you’d told me before Volume 7 that Watts would get an extended firefight with James, I’d have felt that a bit cheap as Watts to me doesn’t feel like a fighter, more a planner who hides behind armies of mechanical soldiers. But damn if they didn’t sell me on Watts “You’ve yeed your last haw” Watts whipping out a Glock just to spite James. 

This is another one of my favorite shots in the entire series.

Ironwood vs Watts is potentially my favorite fight in the entire series, and if it’s not, it’s easy Top 3 alongside Yang vs Mercury and Pyrrha vs CRDL/Mercury. It makes great use of Amity in the abandoned gravity biome meant for SSSN vs JNPR, with Ironwood and Watts deftly moving around in a manner that very easily could have been difficult to track with the constantly shifting gravity, but the crew do their best to keep it coherent as to who’s where. The credits showed their dedication also stretched into visual continuity, as James and Arthur’s route throughout the Arena was carefully considered so they’d loop around organically. 

This is what I mean when I say the crew went above and beyond to keep things clean.

Ironwood vs Watts could have easily failed to impress, given its lack of choreography on the level the series usually does, but the team’s efforts went instead into showing a situation that lets Watts get a dragged out battle: James wins whenever he closes the distance here, so Arthur’s constantly on the run and being forced to tamper with the arena. Great camerawork, a GOD TIER song from Caleb Hyles that I’m still listening to today, and two characters with a fantastic history coming to blows makes for easily the best fight of the season and a series-wide highlight. Watching it develop from storyboards, to mocap, to animations and the full version is a delight to see. This is what CRWBY can do when everything comes togehter. The orchestra’s all tuned. It’s a goddamn symphony.

THIS is my favorite shot of the season.

Tyrian also gets to shine with his two battles this year. His alley fight with Qrow, Robyn and Clover is short but sweet, the corvid and the scorpion especially trading brutal blows in the cramped space. Qrow goes full Devil May Cry with his style-switching here, Harbinger being swapped between sword, tonfa and gun forms freely alongside Qrow applying The Power of Punching. His 1v1v1 with Clover and Qrow though is the true highlight of the season in terms of choreography. It’s lighting-fast, and has some impeccable shot work. Qrow gets to use his scythe with deliberate nods to the Red Trailer, Clover gets to shut up everyone who doubted his weapon, and Tyrian is just along for the ride and he makes the most of it. It’s frentic, it’s heart-pounding, it’s everything a fight should be. 

Honorary mentions as well go to Ace Ops vs the Geist, which is just really fun and has a great backing music choice, the opening battle with Sabre having Ruby’s obligatory ten seconds of fighting that come at the start of every new era of the series, and the Ace Ops vs RWBY fight which has some good choreo in places.

H) Winter and Penny have good chemistry

I don’t have a ton to add here, I just like their dynamic and how they advance each other’s arcs. It’s nice writing. I also like Winter apologizing to Penny when she’s angry at Jacques and takes it out on Penny by accident with the “You wouldn’t understand” line.

Penny as a Maiden is a nice idea, I think her new design is cute. Penny says trans rights.

Those are a lot of my favorite things about Volume 7. It’s a killer season when it’s firing on all cylinders but unfortunately... it often misfires in frustrating ways, many of which are unfortunately due to core emblematic problems with the series that won’t go away.

2) The Bad Stuff

A) The costumes

It’s been a over year. It’s low hanging fruit. I don’t care. Most of them are still not good and they’re ludicrously over-designed.

Blake’s in a fetish suit and I wonder how she even goes to the bathroom. Weiss just looks like an abino Sabre alt, Yang is what a Halloween costume site would describe as “Sexy UPS Driver,” (why does she have a thigh window) Ruby... looks fine, it’s one of her better costumes. Jaune’s hair is silly, Ren’s model has lost some muscle definition and he looks like an e-boy, Nora’s costume really doesn’t fit the Atlas visual design and looks like a rejected Kingdom Hearts costume. Cinder’s is too black and I actually can’t track her in darker scenes because of it (which is kinda bad during... a fight scene... where I need to know where she is...), Neo looks like a Ren Fair cosplayer doing a bit for her OnlyFans, Winter’s is anatomically weird with super skinny arms and legs, and Blake’s hair is a fucking hate crime. 

Qrow’s is one I liked at first but in retrospect it does feel like a downgrade. To quote @h-e-m-o-goblin​ from a Discord chat:

in a show like rwby, where color is such a vital defining aspect of every character, a cohesive colorscheme goes a long way. qrow's original outfit works great in this regard. neutral tones. greys, whites, and blacks, with red accents that pop against the otherwise sparse color. it's good! it's distinctive! it doesn't feel cluttered and it doesn't look like a clown vomited on him! the subdued colors really lend themselves to the grey, cynical energy qrow seems to carry with him. a literal lack of color in his life. the outfit itself feels like something he would wear; a combination of "clearly trying to look cool" and "a little disheveled and laid back." the design breathes, it isn't cluttered. let's contrast this with his vol 7 outfit. a lot of outfits in vol 7 suffer from this problem, but first and foremost it doesn't look like something he would wear. where his old outfit had a casual feel to it, his new look feels like someone dressed him up for a family christmas dinner. it's too... tidy. now of course you could argue this is him "cleaning up his life," but i dont feel like you have to sacrifice his own personal style in order to convey that. if that's really what they were going for, they easily could have just, oh i dont know, given him a cape that isn't tattered???

remember how i said qrow's original outfit really made his colors pop? how less is more when it comes to having a character with a specific color theme? vol 7 butchered that. we suddenly have articles of clothes that are tinted with greenish blue tones, browns, and with gold trim? on TOP of the old colors he already had in his design. it's muddy. it's ugly. the burgundy vest is fine, if they wanted to work more color into his outfit they should have done it that way throughout, shades of grey and different tones of RED. his COLOR. it just feels like they tacked so much on there without a second thought and i really think he deserves better. its just. such a mess.

The ones I did like were Watts’ new coat (I like the puffy hood), Penny’s is fine, the Ace Ops look great, Ironwood’s new outfit is stellar (those last six are great examples of how to do a lot with just primary colors of white and red), Neon’s Jolyne cosplay is cute and Flynt is slick. Otherwise, Volume 7 feels like it’s taken a lot of the wrong lessons from the costume design of the earlier seasons. Less is often more but now it feels like they have a pathological aversion to empty space on the costumes, leading them to feel like... costume vomit for lack of a better word. I didn’t love the Mistral outfits, but their modifications at least were carried by how many of them called back to the Fall of Beacon and emphasized the themes of loss in Volume 4. The new Atlas outfits... don’t have that shared theme. It feels like a hodgepodge of different design influences without trying to find a way to unify them. It’s like putting Baki the Grappler beside My Little Pony, they just fail to mesh.

Also for fuck’s sake already CRWBY just give the girls muscles already.

2) JNR suck and Ren’s arc is glorified character assassination

I don’t love JNR. They’re fine, but the show has arguably not needed them for a while and while I’ve liked them all at different points, it’s never been adoration outside of Ren in Volume 4. I was cool with the idea of them staying in Argus to help cover Mistral after its Huntsmen were wiped out, and Volume 7 has... made me wish they did that.

Jaune is just comic relief, and it kinda blows for later reasons but the big one is that he’s just not very funny. His big role in Volume 7 is basically to crosswalk some kids so we can have a joke scene during the Mantle Battle where Jaune uses his tactical genius to teach people to walk in single file. I feel like at this point Miles is just actively trying to kill Jaune’s fandom out of spite for how badly Jaundice was received. He’s never allowed to be cool or try and redeem himself. His hatedom aren’t going to stop hating Jaune because he gets more comedy guys. They’re going to stop when you write Jaune well. It’s a bummer he got some genuinely great upgrades for his sword and shield and never gets to use them outside of the opening. 

Nora exists. She got a surprising amount of focus this season in that she got focus of any kind. I liked her confronting Ironwood over his choking of Mantle because we know she was once the kind of person Ironwood would have been stifling. I like her being the one to realize the loophole in Jinn’s “You can’t” line. I don’t like much else about Nora this year, or at least the Nora the writing team are pushing. She’s not funny like Jaune but Nora just absorbs so much screentime in the first half with her constant shrieking. Sam Ireland has good range but making Nora into Discount Harley Quinn is pushing her out of it. She sounds shrill, making Nora sound like she has no heart outside of the election rally. A shrill voice is one thing. A shrill voice that never lands a single joke? Yeah that character is tainted by association. 

And Ren... oh God Ren what happened to you.

The Volume 7 commentary confirmed a suspicion of mine that Ren’s arc was heavily cut down from what was planned. Even watching V7 I could tell his arc was bare-bones at best, and it’s downright character assassination in places. Why is he suddenly so cold to Nora? Why is he now so obsessed with training? Why does he side with Ironwood for all of... one line which is this last between episodes 7 and 11. Ren only has two hundred words of dialoge in Volume 7 and they feel so weird in places. Ren goes from seemingly disliking Nora, to kissing her, to never referencing the kiss, to partaking in the Worst Scene Of The Season, all with no consistency. It’s not even threadbare. Ren’s arc just has no connecting tissue for so much of it! It’s insane how badly Ren was hurt by this, and I shudder to wonder how bad his Volume 8 arc will be because you know that was one of the first plotlines they cut down on when they inevitably overreached again. 

I don’t know how they made Renora kissing feel unearned? But by God they found a way with how much of a trainwreck Ren’s writing is in regards to tainting this. 

If Ironwood is an example of RWBY doing character writing well, Ren is the mirror image of how badly they can do. JNR really suffered from Volume 7 (also fun fact, Ren has about 200 words of dialogue? Ironwood has 4400). Maybe not to the level of irredeemable dislike? But very close to being on the same tier as Cinder of “Just go away already.”  I’m not looking forward to their content in Volume 8. 

3) RWBY themselves are poorly handled in Volume 7

It’s unfortunate that the actual title characters of the series are also some of this season’s weaker links. RWBY feel... superfluous to this season in a way they’ve never felt before. It’s baffling how much of the season doesn’t change if you just don’t include them, and apparently Volume 7′s first draft? Was even worse.

The commentary says that many of the RWBY moments were added later in production. Stuff like Ruby and Renora at the rally, Blake and Yang’s talk with Robyn and Ruby and Qrow’s chat were all either added in near the end of the writing or were “low priority” enough that they could have been cut which is... veyr alarming that’s stuff even the main protags have to worry about! 

Ruby feels half-baked. I was looking forward to her in V7 after how V6 gave her a more dynamic personality and the focus she got in Brunswick, and having Penny’s return had me interested in seeing Ruby grapple with her emotions about it. She watched Penny die, how would it influence her to see Penny back and OK? Good question, we never get to see it. Ruby’s just OK with Penny’s return, the one time they touch on it Penny immediately glosses over it. Ruby just goes back to her old happy go lucky persona where any and all negative emotions are immediately forced down instead of confronting them and growing from them. I’m getting a little tired of Ruby bottling her grief and being teased about finally getting her snapping like a Twix Bar. We finally got her crying and it lasted all of ten seconds. And it doesn’t help that Ruby’s still getting shafted for fights. Her scythe choreography has no excuse being as flacid as it is now after Qrow vs Clover showed they can do scythe fighting! Why is Ruby being upstaged by (let’s be real) a supporting character! Why is she being limited to ten seconds of good combat then nothing for the rest of the season outside of flimsily swinging it or shooting. It’s disappointing, especially after how good V6 Ruby was.

I swear, Gravity’s not just my favorite episode of the season just because Ruby finally cries in it.

Weiss was kinda just done dirty though. At least Ruby has a good outfit. Weiss confronting her father has been a long standing plot thread for the series, it’s been Weiss’s Big Thing since the White Trailer. And when Jacques finally appears, he’s very... bland. He’s just evil corporate dude who exists less as an obstacle for Weiss and more just a roadblock for the plot through the election. Weiss finally gets a chance to take her father down and work to redeem her family name... but instead of earning said victory and it being treated with the same gravitas and emotional weight as Blake defeating Adam... Weiss has her victory handed to her. And it’s played for comedy by her abusrdly attractive mother. 

Listen, I like I Willow Schnee. I think she’s a fascinating character and I like the idea of a person who is aware of the harm they’ve done by accident but is too broken to fix the issues she accidentally left. I love her calling Weiss out on her treatment of Whitley. But she is absolutely a Deus Ex Machina that exists to get Jacques out of the plot as fast as possible. You mean to tell me Hackerman Watts never once made sure Jacques had hidden cameras? Or that none of the staff found Willow’s cameras and reported them under the assumption they were White Fang spies? It’s so... convenient. It’s handing Weiss her victory on an unearned platter. Which sucks. I was really looking forward to Weiss beating Jacques. Instead she just gets given the plot device while JNR engage in the Worst Scene of The Season in that Whitley food stunt.

Me whenever I’m asked to rewatch Cordially Invited

Blake and Yang have much the same problems, in they never separate. I know they’re going to be together. I know CRWBY are making it canon (get it over with already). I still would like Yang and Blake to have individual character scenes. I’d like Blake and Marrow to talk about being a Faunus Huntsman in Atlas (another thing that got cut thanks to Robyn Hill). I want Yang and Ironwood to discuss their PTSD and have Yang thank Ironwood for his trust in her that he commissioned the arm despite Yang attacking Mercury. I want Blake to be well animated in fight scenes so she’s doing more than just jobbing so Yang looks better. I want Yang to stop hogging all the good Team RWBY choeography. I want them to interact with other characters and continue to grow instead of feeling like two halves of one character. And no, making a meta joke of how Blake and Yang don’t talk to other people doesn’t make it OK. It just means you’re self aware about your own faults. 

(Also give Yang better merch or quit the favoritism. If you’re gonna milk her, put effort into it beyond crapply overpriced flannel. RT’s merch store is actively making me hate Yang.)

Team RWBY’s biggest contribution to the season is the Ironwood Lie which is... a can of worms. They certainly had a point in withholding some of the bigger truths from James but I feel by Pomp and Cirumstance he’d proven himself truthwrothy enough to warrant being told the truth about Salem. But then when he’s finally told the truth, it’s offscreen’d and the consequence isn’t “Why didn’t you tell me earlier” but “Fucking Ozpin man.” Gravity has it bite them in the ass, but it’s more an accessory to Yang and Blake telling Robyn about the Amity tower. I wish more had been done with the team disagreeing on whether the lie was a good choice or not, maybe have Yang be hardline against it due to her own “No more lies and half truths” policy instead of... having Yang tell more lies and half truths (Commentary confirms she never told Ruby and Weiss about the Robyn stuff BTW). But that’s a wider problem where RWBY aren’t allowed to disagree beyond surface level “I don’t know if this is the right call” dialogue. There’s never a threat of one of them cracking and just spilling the beans to James, everyone just blindly trusts Ruby and Qrow tells the audience “No this is different from when Ozpin lied. Trust us.” 

This is the most RWBY get for content in the season finale: Ruby just nuking Cinder with no difficulty after having trouble with the eyes three episodes ago. Kinda lame tbh.

Team RWBY are just disappointing in Volume 7. They’re not given good animation, their story roles are largely insignificant, the impact of their roles on the story is threadbare and... well most of their costumes suck don’t @ me even CRWBY have admitted Blake and Weiss’s haircuts looked bad. It’s a whole barrage of a letdown for the main girls. And it’s really sad that the best scenes of the season... are usually the ones where RWBY are nowhere in sight.

Why the hell didn’t Yang get to keep the sunglasses come on guys. One job.

4) Robyn, the election plot, and the Happy Huntresses

Oh God, Robyn Hill is... not great. I could and likely will write a full meta on her character and how they bungled it but I’ll just be blunt here: I don’t like her design, the colors don’t mesh well, he head’s too small, Christina Vee is sleeping through the role and her weapon’s lame. Introducing her in a scene where she threatens to attack our heroes, and her agents are actively sneaking up on them to do it, is not a great first impression for a hometown hero. And that the commentary thinks she’s meant to be the hero in that scene is... staggering. 

RWBY’s greatest threat yet is a wine mom Karen and her Home Owners Association army. 

The election plot is less a misfire and more the engine just exploding. There’s so little good content between when it’s introduced and concluded, with it usually being individual scenes that are more good in spite of their connection to the plot (such as Tyrian’s massacre). It drags in pacing, going on for nearly half the season between episodes 5 and 10, and it purely exists as a roadblock to keep RWBY spinning their wheels while Watts and Tyrian keep going with the main plot. I don’t know why CRWBY went for this plot. They could have easily had something else fill the gap that also allowed for a lot of the character beats (such as Marrow and Blake’s talk and Ren’s entire arc) to shine, or at least condensed it to the important elements instead of letting it become bloated. It ends in such an unsatisfying way where Willow just shows up and goes “We have four episode left, here’s the plot device to beat Jacques, get back ot the main plot.” If they wanted to do the election plot, the best route would have been to give Volume 7 more episodes or stretch out its events to two seasons, but neither is realistically possible while RWBY lives off the teat of AT&T. 

Jacques and Robyn are just boring. Evil corporate man and a lame adaptation of Robyn Hood who only has fans because of thirst who also like downplaying Robyn making a racist remark at Marrow (to say nothing of that weird subsection of Robyn fans who make her a Fox Faunus who cut her tail off to join Atlas Academy which is... certainly a creative choice especially when Marrow and Neon are punching holes in that angsty BS backstory). They can’t carry this plot and the artifical attempts to make it seem more exciting with the two cliffhaners ending on Mantle under riot or Grimm attack are laughably cut short by the next episode in each case opening the morning after. On binge watch it becomes weirdly funny more than anything and that’s not a good reaction. The dual cliffhangers being cheaply resolved is a short but succint example of V7′s pacing issues, and they almost always loop around to the election plot being too bloated, slow and just boring.

Also the Happy Huntresses are just... lame. I like their Semblances but that’s it. Fiona’s OK because she gets some screentime but May’s just “the surly one” and Joanna doesn’t even get her Semblance or much dialogue (oh wow she really is just a female Sage Ayana isn’t she). Robyn should not have been leading the HH and running for Council. That’s really stupid. And kind of wrong. Having May or Fiona be running instead while Robyn leads the team in relief efforts would have been better and could have split the focus more effeciently instead of leaving May and especially Joanna feelng like roster padding. There’s also some delicious irony in the show trying to frame the HH as the resistance fighting for the people and representing individuality, only for them all to have the same boring outfit and weapons (I think even the exact same model just with different sizes) while the Ace Ops are meant to be the military drones who are “Just following orders,” only for them to be more racially diverse, more diverse body-type-wise, and have more unique weapons. It’s another one of those odd creative dissconnects between what the writers wanted and what the artists/animation teams chose to do. 

The election plot is overall toxin for Volume 7, and Robyn in my opinion, has one of the worst introductory scenes of any character in the franchise (and CRWBY have tacitly admitted that V7 had a character they were surprised at how controversial they were, which has to be Robyn). In a year where they were already juggling so much content and characters, adding in this bloated subplot was something I don’t think anyone wanted, especially now that we know we lost so much content on the sacrificial altar for this. It’s a black mark on the season and I don’t really care for the return of the Happy Huntresses or Robyn in Volume 8. None of them are interesting enough to care for outside of meta reasons like “cute.” 

Also fuck you Fiona, can’t believe you got a shirt before Ironwood. 

5) Cinder and Neo sure exist

To be fair, this is one of Cinder’s best years, easily her best since Volume 3 but that’s more because Cinder in the Mistral era was crap. (And if I wanna be cruel, because Cinder wasn’t in two thirds of the season)Her fans were finally vindicated after years of telling anyone who dunked on Cinder that “nooooo she has a super covert backstory that’s gonna be amazing when it’s revealed! You’ll see!” And well they finally got it. All of one line during a fight about how Cinder “refuses to starve.” 

It’s still something so I guess we have to take it. Seriously... how do we still not have Cinder’s backstory. 

There’s just not a ton to say about Cinder and Neo in V7 barring I that don’t think they needed to be here. They feel very superfluous and just here to have a big boss fight in Cinder’s case alongside continuing her streak of ending the odd numbered seasons fighting a female side character... which for me became an exercise in tyring to find during Cinder during the damn fight.

And this is why when most people saw Cinder’s V6 outfit they went “It’s gonna be hard to see her in darker environments,” then were vindicated when it became legit difficult to see Cinder in this scene. God if they at least just made the inside of the cape red it’d be easier.

Neo is Neo, which means she makes funny faces and mocks Cinder (I like that), but she doesn’t get a super good fight which uh... we’ll get to. I’m interested to see her finally exploding at Cinder and going for a backstab, but really Neo in V7 was kinda hit hard by the double whammy of the Oscar Hallway Punch and how humiliating ORNJ vs Neo was for ORNJ. Cinder’s definitely had far worse years and after how aimless she was in Mistral this feels like a sep in the right direction, but at this point CRWBY just need to shut up and tell us her deal. It’s been seven years guys. Come on. At least make her interesting if she’s gonna say around. They’ve had worse years, but unfortunately Cinder and Neo’s role in the finale leads into...

6) Some of the fights weren’t good

I wanna be clear, I like most of Volume 7′s fights. It’s just a bummer the worst ones are back and back and make up a chunk of the finale. ORNJ vs Neo is just crap. It’s the worst fight since the Battle of Haven. There’s nothing else I can say, it’s poorly animated, paced, choreographed and written. JNR especially are made to look like complete jokes after they spent all season training, to the point where it looks like V2 Yang could solo V7 JNR after this. Oscar I expect this from because he’s not allowed to have fun stuff onscreen after accidentally stealing the Haven budget for his fight with Hazel, but JNR were just done dirty. There were ways to make the fight work in a way where Neo still won but JNR looked good. They went for the worst possible outcome that just leaves Neo looking like she got fan-wanked and JNR looking like they’re just not allowed to be cool due to Miles’ spite at the Jaune-Self Insert stuff (and that’s not even getting into JNR being forced to run from lame rent a cops who can’t even handle a single Grimm). Cinder vs Winter and Penny isn’t much better, with her dark outfit making it very hard to track the fight because she blends into the background too well. It’s not a great showing for Winter or Penny given their earlier feats but, hey, some random female character had to fight Cinder in this odd numbered volume, carrying on Glynda, Pyrrha and Raven’s tradition. It’s at least better than ORNJ vs Neo, but that’s really not saying anything. At least Cinder’s VA work isn’t too bad this time but this fight commits the cardinal sin of a finale fight: It’s just not super interesting because we know Cinder can’t kill both Winter and Penny and she’s not becoming a Maiden, while Winter’s been too blatantly set up so it has to be Penny.

RWBY vs the Ace Ops also gets a dishonorable mention due to the choreography on display here... and the lack of it for Weiss, Blake and Ruby. Ruby never once swings Crescent Rose the entire fight and is just reduced to getting the tar kicked out of her by Harriet. Weiss barely gets to use her sword and largely just sticks to her summoning and glyphs which makes for a very visually uninteresting fighting style at the best of times. Blake just swings around and gets caught by the bad guys so Yang is motivated to fight stronger. She never dual wields (again) and her best moves are just setting up Yang to do all the hard work while Yang gets to personally KO two of the Ace Ops. There’s a lot that can be said about whether or nor RWBY earn the win, but while the animation team try to sell the Ace Ops landing heavy hits, having only Blake’s Aura even flicker really undercuts the idea from the commentary that this wasn’t meant to be a stomp for RWBY and they had to work together and be in synch to win.

Which is why Yang solos two of the Ace Ops whle Blake plays support, Weiss beats Marrow alone and then kill steals Harriet from Ruby, all while the song playing is an extended diss track from RWBY to the Ace Ops about how badass they are now, and the commentary itself says the Ace Ops are hard carried by Clover’s Semblance (because you gotta love basically saying four POC were only competent because a white guy led them, and then have them lose because said white guy wasn’t around to carry them!). Great job guys, you really sold it.

And talking of Clover, I feel it worth mentioning Qrow vs Clover vs Tyrian. It’s animation wise near perfect, but unfortunately I do feel it would be remiss to not mention that I feel the writing really has to bend over backwards to justify this fight. A lot of it is stuff I would say in that hypothetical Robyn essay, but I feel Robyn, Qrow and Clover all have to become massive idiots for this specific sequence of events to occur, and for Clover especially every retroactive attempt to explain why he prioritized Qrow over Tyrian just sounds more and more desperate. Between the references to MCU Captain America (a person whose entire arc is about learning when it’s OK to defy bad orders) or the attempt in the commentary to say “Oh Clover thought it would be easier to take out Tyrian alone instead of Qrow,” none of them land and just further drive home how much the plot had to stretch and reach to get that moment of Tyrian killing Clover. I like the fight. But I hate the road the show took to get there.

Some of the misc fights are also weak like ORNJ vs FNKI and elements of the Mantle Grimm battle, but those are the big offenders. Otherwise, again, the fights are largely good. 

7) The soundtrack wasn’t... great

I mean the vocal songs only, don’t crucify me. Trust Love is just lamer Let’s Just Live/Triumph, Celebrate and Let’s Get Real are so boring I thought they were the same song until the OST dropped, Brand New Day is boringly peppy and Jeff’s vocals are dreadful. I completely forgot Touch the Sky until I was checking the tracklist to make sure I didn’t forget any songs. War has good singers but tries to sell the RWBY-Ace Ops bond as way deeper than it was. The lack of a villain song did really sting though, those are always the highlights.

There are good songs. I really like Fear, I feel it encapsulates the themes of the volume well and serves as a good condemnation of Ironwod’s mentality. Until The End is finally the Ruby song I’ve waited for since Red Like Roses 2 and I enjoy that she got a melancholic song, and Hero is easily, hands down, best track of the record and probably best RWBY track, full stop. Caleb killed it, I loved the second verse, opening opera was strong, guitar riffs were a plenty. Stellar work all around for that one.

The OST has great work from Jeff and Alex as usual, but the Jeff and Casey songs are really starting to lose their appeal. Going for a peppy feel this year didn’t help cover the cracks that are beginning to show with RWBY’s vocal songs (especially Jeff’s vocal range), and while a few standouts remain such as Fear and Hero, they are the slim minority in an otherwise very boring vocal tracklist that barely scrapes above Volume 5 for weakest set yet.

8) It wasn’t as funny as it thought it was

Comedy is subjective but man a lot of these jokes didn’t land. RWBY really needs to realize that does work in traditional 2D does not translate into 3D and just comes off as making official reaction GIFs for your Twitter account. Making characters SUDDENY SCREAM LOUDLY is not good banter. Please stop making Nora into Harley Quinn. Marrow was probably the most consistently funny character but that was it. Also I dunno why CRWBY thought Forrest was funny or what the deal was with that FRWBY crap. 

“Honorary” mention to the JNR food scene in Cordially Invited which is genuinely one of the worst scenes in the entire show and I hope whoever animated it has their save files deleted for a game where they were about to beat the final boss. Nothing sums up JNR’s pointlessness in the series more perfectly than this.

C) Conclusion

See what I mean about Volume 7 being frustrating? 

It’s weird that I overal think of Volume 7 as a mid-tier volume. There’s so much here I genuinely adore, with some of the best stuff to do with the show coming out of this season (barring lame, overpriced merch that feels like clothing gacha), but simultaneously the whole thing is let down by outside circumstances that unfortunately are ones the show can’t ever really recover from. Put bluntly, Volume 7 is the most technically proficient season of the show with the best lighting, backdrops, (some of the) character models, etc. CRWBY definitely didn’t slack off this year, but the problem isn't with them. It’s with the writing. A wider reaching problem is just that Miles and Kerry can’t really improve to the level that the series now requires. Eddy and Kiersei’s first season could have gone far worse, but it definitely was notable whenever they took over. Volume 7’s core problems are fourfold: The comedy is terrible and none of the jokes really land, the season focuses on the wrong plots and gives them too much effort, too many episodes are spent building up to new plots only for them to be weakly resolved (especially the Mantle Riot/Grimm attacks that are shoved off-screen), and the character bloat strikes hard here and leaves a lot of the cast feeling like dead weight. CRWBY don’t need more writers. They need more editors willing to tell the team what has to go instead of them hemming and hawing themselves on if they if they can include a plotline. The election never should have gotten past its first draft, there was too much already in this season before adding that.

When this is an unironic shot in your series... you’ve got character bloat issues.

At this point, I think JNR need to go. The show had no idea what to do with them throughout the season, leading to Jaune just being comic relief while Ren and Nora became characters I actively dislike. Renora was the easiest ship in the show to land, and they still managed to blow the engines and ram at least three icebergs just to prove that RWBY can’t romance to save its life. Team RWBY themselves are little better, with Ruby’s feelings about Penny’s return being shelved, Weiss’s victory against Jacques feeling un-earned and undercut by comedy, while Yang and Blake are benched for the volume and become a singular entity with how tied at the hip they are. Maria basically yeeted herself out of the show and I didn’t notice, Pietro is just a death flag, and while the Ace Ops had a good intro, it was undercooked by how they had to play the villain role to give RWBY something to do in the final hours. Cinder and Neo didn’t need to be here. Robyn had one of the worst introductions for a character I’ve ever seen, I never enjoyed her moments and it genuinely feels like she only has a fandom because RWBY’s community are in fact that desperate. 

On the brighter side, Ironwood’s arc is fucking perfect and Jason Rose deserves all the love. Great fight, great song, great design, love the beard, it was a perfect downfall for Volume 7’s true protagonist. Qrow had a fun volume and I loved his dynamic with Clover (I don’t see the ship stuff but that’s more because I’m an IronQrow main so my blinders were on). Clover was also way cooler than I remembered. His fights stood out but the guy’s just really cool at the end of the day, with Chris doing great work as a VA. Oscar even managed to do stuff this year which was a shock and a half, but a welcome shock and a half. I didn’t mention it, but the Ozpin fear monologue is one of my favorite scenes in the entire show and it and the Ironwood/Oscar confrontation in the vault save the finale. And of course, Watts and Tyrian were the MVPs. I don’t have a bad word about either of them, they fucking nailed their roles and I can’t wait to see them again. 

And that’s kind of what I mean when I say Volume 7 flummoxes me. It’s frustrating at times with how it handles seemingly easy tasks and drops the ball. Renora went from “everyone liked that” to wondering how badly Ren’s stuff got butchered for him to be the way he is. RWBY themselves could be almost entirely cut and so little would change, and the fact that the finale basically hinges its entire emotional stakes on Winter, Penny and Oscar is a staggering call. And it really feels like the season was compressed beyond necessity because they decided going in that Volume 7 had to end on Salem’s arrival. There’s two volumes worth of material here, and maybe it would have been best to have broken up these events. Volume 7 does too much in too little time, and RWBY especially suffered from it. But when it works… it’s good. Never close to the highs of Volumes 6 or 3, but there’s genuinely good material here. The fights are mostly getting better with far less missteps than previously, the acting (mostly) continues to improve and it’s obvious that RWBY is a very good looking show at this point. Ironwood’s arc is franchise-wide highs, I loved Clover, and Marrow remains the best boi. But it’s frustrating that despite all the tech advances Volume 7 has made, it still makes such threadbare, rookie writing mistakes in cast management, comedy and character arcs. I’m glad Miles and Kerry finally realized that they needed more writers, but it won’t mean anything if the show just continues to circle the drain on the core mistakes it’s been making since 2013. Volume 7 has good in it. But I can see where it could have been great.

Thanks for reading, stan IronQrow and please get Whitley a therapist.

And for the love of God already make an Ironwood vs Watts shirt! 

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 12: Closure

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which they’re the most happy they’ve ever been.

Warning: smut

Word count: 5.1k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

There are three chapters left :)

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This felt like a dream. He’d awoken beside her so many times before but it wasn’t until this morning that it felt official. He lay on his side with an arm folded under his head, taking in her sleeping face. She looked so beautiful and serene, just staring at her alone gave him butterflies in his stomach. He thought he was too old to feel this way; butterflies sounded so juvenile, but he was way past feeling embarrassed about it.

As if she could read his mind, her mouth gave a subtle twitch, and he could tell she was awake.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Her eyelids fluttered as she blinked lazily at him. “I love it when you pull an Edward Cullen.”

Her voice was hoarse from last night, the memories of which made his hard cock jerk slightly. He stroked her naked side and dragged her closer. She nuzzled his neck as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re so warm,” she said. “And hard.”

He let out a small gasp as her cold fingers closed around his cock. All it took was her touch and Harry was a goner. Sex had been added to their morning routine a long time ago, but the idea of them getting to do this more often now that she lived here made it all more exciting.

They made love, and she’d come twice before he carried her to the shower so she could wash up and wouldn’t be late for work.

“There’s no need to rush,” she reassured him while he was washing her hair. “I’m buying us some more time together. I’m sure Eddie doesn’t miss me, but I’ll surely miss you.”

The beam on her face made his heart leap. He grinned, massaging her scalp while holding her gaze. “Look at you. We’ve only lived together for one day and you’ve already become clingy.”

She nodded and spread the soap across his chest. “By next week, I’ll be crying and hugging your legs when you leave for work. Don’t say I haven’t warned ya.”

He laughed and playfully bumped his forehead against hers. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you cleaned and I’ll drive you to work.”

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Eddie was over the moon to see Harry again. He literally pushed right past Y/N before she could say hello and tugged Harry into a hug. Harry hesitantly patted Eddie on the back, eyeing Y/N questioningly. She could only answer with a shrug while trying not to laugh at Eddie’s fangirling moment.

“Congratulations on your Oscar nomination!” Eddie pulled back, gripping Harry’s arms and grinning from ear to ear. “It’s just two weeks away! Are you excited? What are you gonna wear? Oooh, how are you gonna style your hair?”

“Jesus, let the man breathe, Ed.” Alice emerged from behind one of the shelves and ambled toward them, her burgundy lips arched at Harry. “I’m so sure you’re gonna win. You’re the best actor of our generation.”

“You’ve never watched any movie the other actors were in.” Eddie’s remark earned him a warning glare from Alice.

Harry laughed and waved her compliment away. “Don’t hype me up. It’ll just make me cry harder when I lose.”

“Don’t say that!” cried Alice.

Eddie turned to Y/N, his eyes gleaming. “Are you gonna attend the Oscars?”

“Of course!” She tousled Harry’s hair and smiled widely. “I cannot miss a chance to see Harry cry in public.”

“Jesus, be optimistic, you two!” Alice yelled, and Y/N responded with a shrug, pursing her lips.

“Lose or win, I’ll cry anyway,” Harry interjected.

“See?” Y/N pinched his chin and tiptoed to kiss his temple. “Only I get him the most.”

“Disgusting,” Alice jokingly coughed as she rolled her eyes and told them she’d have to finish sorting the new arrivals. Eddie seemed relieved that Alice was gone; he was desperate to have Harry’s attention again.

“So.” A smile crept up to his face. “Have you written your acceptance speech yet? Or do you have someone write it for you?”

Y/N snapped her head up to look at Harry with her eyes wide. “I haven’t heard you mentioned your speech.”

“Don’t need one.” He shrugged and draped an arm around her neck. “It’s not like I’m gonna win.”

“Are you joking?!”

“Y/N’s right!” Eddie looked overly distressed. “You can’t possibly think you’re not gonna win.”

Harry pursed his lips and let out a sigh. “This is my first nomination ever. And have you seen the people I’m up against? I’m just happy I got nominated, really.”

“Baby.”

“Yes, baby?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “No, I’m calling you a baby. I’m insulting you.” The way she scrunched up her face cracked him right up. “I’m not joking! You have to take this seriously. What does Jeff have to say about this?”

“Up to you.”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Up to you.’” Harry chuckled. “So I guess it’s up to me.”

She scowled at him. “We’re so having this conversation tonight.”

“Uh-oh, is this where I regret asking you to move in with me?”

“You two are living together?” Eddie brightened, but then Y/N pressed her whole palm to his face and gently pushed him aside. If Harry didn’t know them, he might think she was the owner of this shop and Eddie was working for her.

“Have a good day, Eddie,” Harry told the lad and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s pouty lips. “I’ll pick you up tonight?”

Her expression softened with a beam. “I’ll stop by my place to collect some stuff. Once I’m done, I’ll call you.”

“All right.”

“Harry?” He turned, both eyebrows raised as she walked up to him and grabbed his face with both hands. He bit his lips to stifle a laugh since she looked so ridiculously serious. “Write that goddamn speech.”

“I’ll think about it,” he gleefully told her and ruffled her hair before heading out.

As soon as he got back to his car, his phone buzzed aggressively inside his pocket and he didn’t even have to check to know who was calling.

Gemma.

He considered her name for a long moment until he felt someone watching and spotted a random girl standing across the street, pointing her phone at him. This was why he hated showing his face in public. He waved politely at her and watched her squeal and run back to her group of friends. Hurriedly, he got into his car and drove off, crossing another crossroads before pulling over to answer his phone.

Gemma seemed determined to talk to him. He heaved a sigh as his thumb lingered above the screen, his eyes rolled skyward. Last night, he’d promised Y/N that he would give Gemma and Isaac a chance to properly apologize and explain themselves; he couldn’t back away now.

He slid his thumb across the screen and answered. “Hello?”

“Can we talk, please?” Gemma asked, sounding nervous and uncertain. “All three of us. You, me, and Isaac.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Okay. Where do we meet?”

“The coffee shop by your house?”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Thank you.”

Harry only hummed as he didn’t know how to respond to that. He hoped he could manage to keep his composure when he saw the two of them together.

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Gemma couldn’t recall the days when her family, all four of them, were happy together. She couldn’t recall how her parents had grown to hate each other. She didn’t even know what had been their first serious fight from which everything had fallen to pieces. When she’d been a little girl, her parents would always send her to her room before they’d started a fight. She’d thought they hadn’t wanted her to be scared. Now that she was older, she knew they had sent her to her room so she wouldn’t overhear something that would ruin her childhood. Somehow she was thankful for that.

However, one night, she had sat in the shadow of the stairwell, peering through the bannisters and eavesdropping them arguing in the kitchen. She’d heard something about a woman named Aleigh, or Alex, or Ally, and had assumed it’d been someone her parents had known from work. That woman turned out to be Emilia’s mother. Even back then, when Gemma hadn’t known who that woman was, she could already tell that that woman had been the reason for her parents’ endless fights, and she had resented the woman she’d never met before. She guessed she’d been right after all. Twenty years had gone by and that woman was still the reason for Gemma’s and Harry’s misery.

When Gemma had told Harry that Emilia’s mother was still alive and Emilia and Winton had been using him all this time, he’d been so calm it’d frightened Gemma. After much thinking, it’d occurred to her that maybe he’d known all along, not really known, but he’d felt something wrong and decided to overlook it all so he could live in the fantasy where Winton was good and misunderstood.

“I’m going to see him.”

“What?” Harry almost spilt the drink in his hand as he flinched. “Why? Gemma, this is—”

“I’m just gonna say a few words and then leave.”

Harry’s gaze jumped to Isaac. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes,” Isaac said.

“And you also agree she should go see the man who’s fucked us both over.” It wasn’t a question and Harry sounded genuinely pissed as he ruffled his hair and exhaled sharply. “Look, you don’t have to do this for me, Gem,” he told her. “The things I gave them, just...let’s just think of those things as an act of kindness. Just cut them out of our lives and get on with it. They don’t deserve that much of our headspace—”

“I want closure, Harry,” she blurted. “It’s easy to just cut people off but they’ll never really leave you alone until you have the final words.”

“You already wrote him a letter.”

“How do I know he’s read it? Besides, that was before I knew about the shady things he did with his new daughter.” She tried not to sound bitter, but from the look Isaac and Harry were giving her, she guessed it hadn’t worked.

“Okay, then I’d go with you,” Harry said.

“No way,” she scoffed.

Beside her, Isaac straightened. “Harry’s got a point. I can’t let you go alone.”

She whipped her head to him. “Winton’s not gonna hit me.”

All three of them froze. Harry mirrored her reaction with his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open. She couldn’t believe she’d said that.

“Gem,” Harry ventured, and her heart was thumping so loud it almost drowned out all the other noises. “You weren’t in a car accident the other night, were you?” She didn’t answer, but her unconsciously touching the bandage on her forehead had confirmed his guess. “That son of a bitch!” he half-shouted, receiving questioning stares from a few people around them.

“Winton didn’t—”

“Asher did that to you,” Harry asserted and then grabbed his phone. “I’ll call my lawyer right now.”

Gemma hadn’t got a chance to stop him when Isaac interjected, “Or we can just go to his house and beat the shit out of him.”

Harry slammed his phone down. “Great idea.”

“Stop! Both of you!” Gemma cried out and flung an apologetic glance at the couple sitting across the aisle, who were just trying to enjoy their breakfast in peace. She then turned back to Harry and Isaac, her arms folded, her fists clenched. “Just...let me handle this. I’m gonna handle this myself. I know you care about me but I’m not afraid of Asher. I mean, I was...but not anymore.” She shook her head to make the memories of that night vanish. “He’s gonna pay for what he did, but I’m here to talk about Winton and you’re not going with me, Harry. I want to speak to him alone.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, but he didn’t seem too opposed to the idea anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked at last, his forehead creased. “About Asher and about...you two.”

“It’s...it’s me.” Isaac cleared his throat, giving Gemma a sideways glance. “I didn’t want to let you know—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Isaac, don’t. You don’t have to take the blame. It was me,” she told Harry. “I was too afraid that you’d judge me and–and you’d get mad at both of us.”

“I would’ve got mad anyway,” he breathed. “But I’m not gonna abandon you or think any worse of you. You’re my sister and I love you, Gem.”

“I cheated on my boyfriend—”

“Who abused you.”

It hurt to hear her brother say the word. If no one had addressed it, she could have just pretended it’d never happened. But it had. Her ex-boyfriend had abused her, and it was just another ugly reality she had to face.

“Still, I could’ve left,” she whispered, eyes on her half-empty cup of coffee.

Harry reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Gem, he wasn’t allowed to lay a finger on you no matter what you did.” She looked up and met his soft look. “I promise I won’t interfere,” he went on, “but can you promise me you will fuck up his life?”

She exhaled a laugh and nodded. “Promise.”

Harry leaned back into his chair, crossed his arms and considered Isaac. “What are your intentions with my sister?”

Gemma face-palmed herself as she felt Isaac squirm in his seat, apparently unsure if Harry was being serious or simply joking.

“I just want to make her happy, H,” he said. “If you don’t trust me, you can ask Y/N—”

“Just as I was about to forgive you!” Harry gasped dramatically, and Isaac let out a laugh. He exchanged looks with Gemma. Both were relieved to know that Harry wasn’t against them. “I’m glad that you two are happy,” Harry continued. “This is a bit weird but...I’ll get used to it.” Then he pinned Isaac with his glare. “If you break her heart, I will kick your ass.” To Gemma, he said, “And if you break his heart, I will tell mum.”

“Classic.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “By the way, congratulations. Heard you moved in with Y/N.”

Harry’s eyes went round. “Who told you?”

“Y/N told Alice who told Niall who told me,” Isaac said.

Gemma folded her arms on the table, leaning forward. “Alice and Niall, huh?”

Harry waved off her speculations. “Niall would’ve told us.” Then he jolted with a start. “Well shit, maybe he wouldn’t.”

“The next time I see him, I’ll make him talk,” Isaac asserted. He and Harry fist-bumped, and Gemma couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

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Y/N knew she’d run into him. He always got home early on Monday night, and still, she’d hoped she wouldn’t get unlucky. When had luck ever been in her favour twice a day?

She was locking the door with one arm carrying a box full of books when a voice came up from behind, “Do you need a hand?” And she felt her stomach clench and sweat trickle down her temple.

She looked over her shoulder, forcing a smile. “It’s fine, I got it. Thank you.”

Blake stood there with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, waiting for her to finish, waiting for the conversation she’d been running from. Last night, she’d told Harry to talk to Gemma and Isaac and get his thoughts across, so she couldn’t possibly go against her own advice and avoid Blake until he moved back to the States. She might never see him again once he’d left, but she would never stop pondering over the things she could have said but didn’t.

She squeezed her eyes shut and slowly turned, curses springing up in her head. She hoped he couldn’t see past her tight smile, and if he did, it didn’t show.

Blake’s gaze fell to the box she was holding as he raised an eyebrow. “So you’re finally moving in with Harry.”

“Yes,” she answered then quickly added, “It has nothing to do with–”

“Me.”

Her mouth clamped shut.

She’d known this encounter would be awkward, just not this awkward. Her first instinct was to look around frantically as if seeking a place to run and hide. Blake seemed to notice her weird behaviours. He shifted from one foot to the other, staring at them like he normally would every time he got nervous. Whenever she saw him do something like this, she would see the sixteen-year-old boy she’d fallen in love with, then she would remember what he’d done to Laura, to her, and the picture of that sixteen-year-old boy would fade to black.

She heaved a sigh, held his gaze and nodded her head at the stairs going up to the next floor. He automatically followed. He put down his laptop bag beside his leg, and she hugged the box to her chest awkwardly. They sat on the bottom stair side by side. Something about the mood reminded her of their last afternoon together in Holmes Chapel. Their first goodbye. For all she knew, this could be their last.

“How did you meet Laura?” she broke the silence and watched Blake fidget uneasily. It was comforting to know that they felt the same about this situation.

“Her ex-husband was my professor,” he confessed.

“Well, shit.”

Her mindless response made him chuckle. “Yeah...Shit.”

“Were you in love?” This time, he cast her a questioning glance. “With Laura?” she ventured.

“No, I don’t think so,” he admitted. “I was really attracted to her. I’ve got a thing for smart and powerful women.”

She pursed her lips and released a long breath. “I mean, if I went to Yale, I would probably have a thing for smart and powerful women, too.”

He chuckled and waved off her comment. “Nah, it’s not Yale. I just always have.”

She blinked at him. When he caught her stare, she averted her eyes and tucked a strand behind her ear. He didn’t need to explain himself. She knew he’d meant her – she’d been the first ‘smart and powerful’ woman he’d fallen for, which should have made her feel flattered, but all she felt was sadness for Laura. Y/N knew what it was like to be wholeheartedly in love with someone who only loved one small part of you.

“Your book is still getting published, right?” Blake changed the subject, or maybe he really cared. Either way, she was relieved.

“Yes. Maybe I’ll send you a copy when it comes out?”

A hopeful grin lit up his face. “That’d be so cool. Can you sign it first?”

“Sure.”

Silence ensued.

“I’m not sure if you know this,” Blake trailed off. “But you smile the brightest when you talk about books...and him.”

Y/N was taken aback. She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Blake smiled as if to tell her he wasn’t expecting a response, and it wasn’t until then that she noticed he also smiled the brightest when he was with her, even if they were talking about another man, the one she loved.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he spoke when she didn’t. “I was so selfish. I said I was doing it for you, but I guess I was doing it for me, too. I thought it could help me get you back, but it was never up to me to decide.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. That sounded so out of place, but she didn’t know what else to say to him.

“Can we still talk sometimes?” he asked and bumped his shoulder against hers. “When I’m over you, of course.”

She was so relieved to hear his playful tone again. “And when will that be?”

He pursed his lips, his dark brows furrowed. “Let’s hope it won’t be too long.”

She said nothing, but she also wished that for him, and for them.

.

.

.

Gemma’s hands were shaking as she held the shoebox to her chest and knocked on the door. A voice from inside the flat told her to wait just a moment. She shivered as it was the first time in twenty years or so that she’d heard that voice again.

The door was unlocked, and she was standing in front of the man whose face had become a blur in her memories. He was much older now, still, something about him made her feel like time had never passed, and it’d been yesterday when she’d chased after his car, crying and begging him not to leave her behind. The only difference was, he was in a wheelchair now, and she no longer wanted him back.

“Can I come in?” she asked in a neutral tone despite the emotions in his eyes. She knew it wasn’t because he was happy to see her again after that many years. Winton was just shocked and scared to see her after what he and Emilia had done.

He had no choice but to invite her in. She took a seat on the couch in front of him, the shoebox on her lap. The first thing she set eyes on was the massive picture of him, Emilia and her mother. Gemma’s heart sank as she bit her lip and looked away immediately.

Winton asked her if she’d like some tea, and she refused. “I suppose your daughter has told you everything.”

He seemed startled by how straightforward she was. What did he expect, though? ‘Hello, how are you, Dad’? Never in a million years.

“I-I feel awful–” he started, but she wasn’t interested in hearing the rest.

“Save it,” she cut him off. “I have questions and I demand answers.”

“Yes, yes...of...of course,” he stammered, unable to look her in the eyes. “You deserve that.”

She almost said he was in no position to tell her what she deserved, but then she contained her anger and went straight to the point. “Were you cheating on Mum?”

His eyes grew big. When he received a stern look from her, he lowered his head and whispered, “Yes.”

She calmly nodded. “Did you leave us because that woman was pregnant with Emilia?”

“Yes.”

“Was there anything real about the stories you told Harry?” she went on, fisting the hem of her dress. “The trainers. The day of his football match.”

“I was at the game,” Winton blurted, still not looking at her. “B-Because your mother asked me to come. But I could only watch you from afar. I was too afraid that you wouldn’t want to meet me.”

Coward.

She sat up straighter. “And the shoes?”

This time, he took more than a second to answer. “They were Emilia’s.”

Arsehole.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I swear I’m a better father now. Just ask Emilia–”

“You’re an arsehole,” she raised her voice, causing him to jump in shock. “I don’t care how well you treat your new family, but you don’t make people and abandon them. Harry was only five years old when you left us. I fucking chased after your goddamn car and you didn’t even stop to tell me why you had to leave. You’re...you’re a fucking coward!” She schooled her face, trying her best to keep her voice clear and calm. “You’re a shitty person and you don’t deserve our forgiveness. I’m just here to see for myself how pathetic you’ve become. And do you know what the worst thing is?” Tears stung her eyes as her voice dropped, “I cannot feel the slightest amount of joy to see you like this.”

He stared at her with a pained look on his face. She fought back her tears and slammed the shoebox on the coffee table. “Here are your daughter’s shoes.” And took out some bills from her purse, put it on top of the box. “Hospital bills,” she said before he could ask. “Harry told me to tell you you don’t have to pay him back. Not every act of kindness requires something in return. It was what Mum has taught us.”

“Gemma–”

She stood up quickly and straightened her dress. “If you or your daughter ever bother us again, our lawyers will contact you. Good luck, Winton. You’re gonna need it.”

The front door swung open, and Emilia froze when she saw Gemma. Gemma didn’t pay her a second glance as she made her way to the front door as brushed past Emilia into the hallway. She didn’t look back. It felt like a ton of rocks had been lifted from her chest.

Now she could finally breathe, and move on.

.

.

.

“What are those?”

Y/N descended the steps of the building and shoved the box into Harry’s arms, grinning. “Books. This is just a corner of my bookshelf, by the way.”

He laughed and put it into the car before turning back to wrap his arms around her. She buried her face into his chest as he kissed the top of her head. It felt nice to just be able to hold her like this after a long tiring day. He could do this on repeat for the rest of his life.

“Maybe I’ll build you your own library in my house,” he said as she pulled back. “Like in Beauty and the Beast.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I never knew a Disney reference could turn me on so much.”

“It’s me actually. I turn you on.” He pinched her chin and pecked her on the lips. “By the way, I talked to Gemma and Isaac today.”

“I talked to Blake,” she said nonchalantly. “How did it go?”

“Good,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face as a wind blew right through them. She pressed her body against his own and he wrapped her in his coat, leaving only her head exposed. “Is it just me or is it really weird to see them together?”

“It’s not just you,” she giggled, arms tightened around his waist. “But Isaac’s a really great boyfriend so don’t you worry.”

“Shut up! I don’t need that reminder from you of all people.”

His reaction got her laughing. “I’m yours. I always have been.”

He already knew that, but hearing it from her made his heart flutter every time. “And I’m yours.” He kissed her nose. “I hope you told Blake that when you talked to him earlier.”

Her cheekbones lifted as the corners of her eyes crinkled. “Blake told me I only smiled the brightest when I talked about books and you. So I think he knows.”

“Good.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe he does deserve redemption.”

.

.

.

When they got home, she told him to take a shower first as she had some work she had to finish. He assumed it was just her Uni assignments so he didn’t ask.

As soon as he stepped out of the shower, he screamed and almost tripped when he saw her standing right in the bathroom, holding some papers. She looked extremely serious even though he was naked and dripping in front of her.

“Okay, I have a few options for you,” she said, handing him the pages with her scribbles all over them.

He wiped his hands with one of the towels on the rack and took the papers from her. “What are these?”

“Your potential acceptance speeches.” She clasped her hands behind her back, grinning from ear to ear. “I wrote them at work and polished them up while you were in the shower. I don’t know what mood you’d like to go for so…” She peered over his hands and pointed a finger to each page. “This one is ‘Men also cry’. This one...is ‘I’m better than all of you bitches.’ This one, my favourite, ‘I don’t deserve this but maybe I do but I don’t wanna sound like a conceited asshole’. And here–”

He didn’t let her finish and crashed his mouth against hers. Startled, she pushed him away with a hand on his chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and it wasn’t from the steam. “What did I say about kissing me while I’m talking?”

He shrugged, grabbed her by the hips and her first instinct was to wrap her legs around his waist as he pushed her against the tiled wall. She was kissing him back when she saw the speeches she’d written scattered on the wet floor, and she let out a gasp so loud and patted him frantically on the chest. “Wait, you haven’t read them!”

He refused to put her down, his kisses trailing along her throat. “I’m not gonna use them.”

“Why not?” She pouted but didn’t protest when he unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to his feet. She wasn’t wearing underwear underneath, and he wasted no time to suck a nipple into his mouth. She moaned softly, fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Because I’m gonna write my own speech,” he said into her neck, smirking when she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged his head back so he’d look at her.

“Really?”

He nodded and pressed a chaste kiss to her cupid bow. “It’ll be for the best if I write it on my own.”

Her expression softened at once. “I trust you,” she said, brushing her thumb across his cheek. “When will I get to read it?”

“At the Oscars if we’re lucky.” He nudged her head back with his nose at her jaw and left open-mouthed kisses down her throat. She’d slid her hand between them, stroking his cock before guiding it to her entrance. She was so hot and wet and ready for him. His eyes squeezed shut as he laughed lowly into her skin. “Maybe I’d take you on the stage with me...and propose to you in front of the whole world.”

She gasped and eased down on his cock with a hand on his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered and her voice was strained as she joked, “Don’t make me break up with you on live television, baby.”

He kissed her mouth again and thrust all the way in, making her drop her head back against the wall, panting heavily. “What a little brat,” he said through gritted teeth. “Normal people would find it romantic.”

“Have we ever been a normal couple?” she asked and bit his lip. “Now stop talking and fuck me.”

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Three, “Rebecca Ann”

*Not my gifs and ugh it was SO hard to find good ones, sigh* 

Word Count: 11.6k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  Song will be at the end, so as not to give anything away ;) 

“She is led by love, the world moves for love . . it kneels before it in awe."

- Edward Walker, The Village 

“So, what happened in the story next?”

“Are you sure you can stay awake for another chapter, love?” I wheeze, fingers combing through the satiny loose curls that I push away from her eyes. The very pair that I’ve seen so many times in the mirror. “You’re getting tired, Bean. It’s been a long day for you with school and swim team practice.” 

“I know, but I can stay awake. It’s getting good.” 

“Pinky P?” I almost giggle, holding out my littlest finger that she hooks hers with. Without fail, I could still picture how tiny her fingers were the first time I saw them, and my how they’ve grown. I think it’d be safe to say somebody is going to have big hands, too. 

“Yeah, it is, but . . . ,” my words escape me momentarily. Distracted, I stop, hearing the sound of a cry from upstairs, wishing that he would walk into the room. That he would help me with this part, and the ones that follow.

“But, what?” 

I’d been called it every day for the last almost ten years, but it still was hard to get used to at times, especially now with the story I tell. I had a hard time sometimes believing how lucky I’d gotten, and she only reminds me as I watch her eyes lull at the feeling of my hand in her hair. Just like somebody I know. 

“But it gets sad, love, because you know, sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.” 

“Stop it, you sound like you’re making up rubbish rules, just like Daddy,” the beloved word falls from her rosebud lips, and we can’t contain our laughter. The imperfect perfections in her cheeks and the sing-song laughter that peels from her lips makes this all the more surreal for me, like I’m looking right at him. “Now, keep going, Mum. I want to hear more of your story.” 

/

It was never really an awkward silence with Harry, save for the few times after we had a row. No, it hadn’t been anything but comfortable since well, before we had started dating. Maybe even not long after I’d become his assistant, if you’re not counting that painful in between time. Today wasn’t one of those times, but sometimes I may have made it awkward when I couldn’t stop staring at him, just like the way I currently watch as his eyelashes flutter against his skin. 

“Skye and Asher?!” the voice says from the phone pressed to my ear. 

“Yep. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Well, I’ll be darned . . huh,” my dad concludes with a soft laugh. “I hope he knows how much trouble he’s in for.” 

“Me too. Skye was pissed with me at first for not introducing them sooner. As if I should’ve known she’d fall in love the second she saw him.” 

“That sounds like her,” he muses with nostalgia carried in his voice. A recent memory sits in my mind from the other day when Skye told me the very story that I’m retelling. The apparent love at first sight with Asher and their first date, a rushed love story at best compared to Harry and I’s. He griped about it, Harry, feeling bad for Asher not knowing what was going to hit him. He had his hands full, alright, both boys. “So, how are things with you and Harry then, Boops?”

“Good, really good,” the answer comes easily to me, yet in a hushed voice as I try not to speak too loudly. My next words pause when a furrow gathers between his two brows, easily remedied by the pad of my thumb. 

“Your trip went well?”

“Yeah, it was loads of fun seeing his family. I met a few more of them, and they’re all so alike. The cheesy sense of humor, love of board games, and they’re kind as can be,” memories bubble up with my words of our trip to Harry’s hometown close to a week ago. 

“Well, it was good to talk to you and catch up, love, but I have to get going to work. You too probably soon, huh?”

“Yeah, and you too, Dad. I miss you . . you’re sure you can’t come up soon for a day or something?” I ask, almost holding my breath, despite knowing it won’t help his answer to sound like the one I want. 

“Not sure, Ree, I’ll have to see how it’s going with the next build, we’re getting busy.” 

“Okay, I hope you can come up somehow . . Well, I’ll talk to you on Monday, Dad,” listening to his subsequent goodbye, I set down my phone, sighing. Shielding a hand over my forehead, I move my legs under the covers, feeling his warm pair. 

It wasn’t often that I’d be awake before Harry, because somehow he was always up early, even on the weekends. Not today, though. I for once had been up before him. It was nice, getting to enjoy him like this, especially considering the way he drove me up the wall yesterday. Silent, asleep Harry was far preferable to me right now. He also couldn’t protest the lazy attempts I made at styling his hair differently when he was asleep, considering he slept like a log. 

The colors had begun to change outside, and the shops were building their candy supplies in preparation for the scary holiday. Despite Fall settling around us, a golden tinge still clung to Harry’s skin. Underneath his golden necklace, at the point of his nose, and around his many tattoos. It still surprised me, the four numbers in my handwriting permanent above his heart. It had been filled with so many firsts, and hopefully a few lasts. 

Glancing at the clock, I found that our alarm still wouldn’t be going off for a good while. Albeit he couldn’t be more handsome when asleep and knowing what I’m about to do, I fight my way into his arms. His groan is instant and so is the smile I try to hide from my lips. 

“Mmm, Becks, ‘m sleepin,’” Harry whines against me, his body like jelly. His arms still find their way around me and so does his chin hooking over top of my head. 

“I just wanna cuddle you before work.” 

“Fine,” it’s a sighed answer in return, but I hear the defeat in his voice. The way sleep beckons for him, his soft snoring soon resuming. His chest is balmy under my cheek where I lay it, listening for the sound of his heart. Next to his laugh, it was my favorite sound. 

It seemed to be a recurring theme throughout today, stealing glances at Harry when he wasn’t noticing, like now as he flips through his menu.

“Are ya gonna ogle me, Becks, or are you gonna figure out what t’ order, love?” 

“I already decided.”

“Good, ‘cos so have I,” he announces, laying his menu down. It’s only seconds later that the server sees, and we’re ordering our breakfast. “Seems you and my gran have really hit it off.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“No, I know so. Saw it even. I haven’t seen her take t’ somebody like that befo,’ certainly not any other girlfriend of mine.”

“I really like her - Claire. She’s sweet and even though we’ve only met a few times, she’s so easy to talk to.”

“I know, I love that ‘bout her. You’d think she was my mum’s mum with how sweet tha two o’ them are. She’s been supportive ever since tha stuff started with my dad, always let me talk t’ her ‘bout it without judgement. It meant loads t’ me,” he divulges to me. I can’t help but nod along, and fold my hand into his in the middle of the table. 

“I bet so. That sounds like my gran Ann, she was my dad’s mum, but she was always there for me.” 

“I see where you get it from, love,” he smiles with a wink of his sunshine eye, lips curling from the rim of his mug of coffee. It still baffles me how he can drink it black, let alone ripping hot. 

God, the things those eyes do to me, those lips too. Okay, Becky, chill. Now is not the time. But, then there’s the outfit he’s wearing today and how it’s so him, and effortlessly handsome. It looks like something my granddad would wear - tan slacks, and a cream long sleeved shirt with chocolate brown stripes. Curls in a mess atop his head and parted in the middle, but somehow, it works. It had become my favorite hairstyle of his recently, but that would quickly change with whatever new one he came up with next. For once, it wasn’t Chelsea boots today or the occasional Vans, but instead saddle brown laced up Oxfords. See, how were the casual outfits so handsome? Harry’s outfits always work, and I wish I knew how. 

“Whatcha starin’ at, hmm? I keep findin’ you lookin’ at me this mornin,’ startin’ t’ wonder why.” 

“What, can I not admire my handsome boyfriend every now and then?” my question comes with a lift of my brow. Now, it’s my turn to look all inquisitive over my cup of coffee. 

“Now, I never said ya couldn’t do that, love,” Harry teases with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. 

It stuck to his lips as he began to read the paper over his coffee until our breakfast arrived. Even then, it remained. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” I titter, cutting my fork through the two layers of pancakes.

“Stop drenchin’ yer pancakes with syrup, yer not gonna taste ‘em. They’ll be all soggy,” he warns, feeding a strip of bacon past his bubblegum pink lips. 

“Stop telling me what to do with my pancakes.” 

“Watch it, li’l one, or else ‘m not gonna share me food with you,” Harry says, pointing his fork at me. It gleams with strips of maple syrup beading at the tines’ ends. My lips ready their rebuttal, but his eyebrows only inch higher as he cocks his head towards me, silently willing me to continue. “I know ya will, ‘s a given. You always ask t’ taste somethin’ off me plate, don’t even try t’ deny it, lovey.” 

It’s difficult to say the least, hiding my smirk and its accompanying giggle. Shaking my head, I sigh as I stab my fork at my pancakes, feeling his foot knock into mine underneath the table. It looked nothing close to Rafael’s here, but somehow, it brought me back to that night in the Italian restaurant. Our first one. The way his foot nudged at mine under the table, and the way his eyes gleamed with a smile. Sometimes, if I thought hard enough, I could feel the fluttering inside of me from the butterflies he still gave me. 

“What? Yer a li’l too quiet fer tha talkin’ t’ I jus’ gave you, bug. No witty comebacks? That’s a surprise and a relief all in one,” Harry jokes, dimples set into his cheeks. He had shaved them just a few days ago, but it looked like it had been longer. 

My lips are absent of any words. Instead, I busy them with the pillowy pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Looking down at my plate, I cut into the potatoes crisp on the exterior with cheese and flecks of pepper. Setting down my fork, I slowly pat on the bottom of the ketchup bottle. 

“Becks? Y’know I was only jokin,’ love.”

“I know, and we both know you’re going to share your lemon poppyseed muffin with me,” it’s my turn for the shit eating grin now. Lifting my gaze, I meet his. 

“I told you!” he begins with a shake of his head, pressing his fist to his overactive mouth. “Told ya t’ order yer own, love.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll share with me because you love me.” 

“I dunno if ‘d go as far t’ say that,” he shrugs. My scoff makes the smile tickle further at his cheeks, and it all but disappears when I pinch his thigh from under the table. “Woman, I swear t’ bloody God-.” 

“Swear what?” I pipe up, setting my chin in my hand as he chuckles away across from me. He suffices a response with a shake of his head, feeding a ripe strawberry past his lips. It doesn’t help that he locks eyes with me the second he does it, and lips slow as can be, at that. “You’re bad.” 

Harry offers a measly shrug in response, and what speaks volumes is the way he tugs the striped bag closer to him, holding our beloved muffin. Ignoring it, I dip a bite of potatoes into my puddle of ketchup, enjoying the hum of the cafe around us. Harry and I had been coming here for a while now- well, before we had started dating. He liked their food and turned me onto them, starting with getting him breakfast and his special muffin when I was his assistant. I don’t think he took me out to breakfast here until I had come back to work at his firm, but it was a nice treat every once in a while, even if it meant having to wake up earlier. 

“I talked to my dad this morning, and told him about Skye and Asher. He was surprised, to say the least. I wish he’d come up and visit one of these days, he’s always so busy.” 

“‘m sure he will when he’s not so busy, love, like when his new build ‘s over,” Harry muses, loudly flipping the page of his paper. Watching as he flattens it out, the bite of potatoes on its way to my mouth pauses. 

“How’d you know about his new build?”

“‘Cos I talk t’ him too. He rang me tha other day, and we spoke ‘bout um . . I dunno, footie and cooking,” he answers, nonchalantly. Nodding, I shake a little more salt onto my potatoes, trying to will Harry to meet my eyes. 

“Maybe he’ll come up if you ask, or if it’s to hang out with you.” 

“Oh, hush, you. He’ll come when he has tha time, love, y’know that. Stop bein’ a pout,” he says, folding his paper back up into a messy square. My head shakes when he holds it out to me, instead setting it to the side before he picks up his coffee. 

A wheezy laugh drops from his lips as he shakes his head at me, “Fine, here, Ms. Pouty. I must love you a whole lot t’ share me muffin,” Harry sighs, reaching into the bag and soon splitting it in half, handing me a chunk.

“Thank you . . love you,” it comes with a wink that he dismisses with a roll of his eyes.

“I know,” he huffs, breaking off a morsel of the dense bread. His eyes twinkle with mischief when I nudge my foot against his leg underneath the table. “Ditto, bug, always love you back too.”

/

I tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. Huffing, a hand dives into my hair as I stare back at the screen. It’s a welcomed respite when my wrist sings with a notification. Pushing back my sleeve, it reads Team Meeting at 2pm. I tap my palm against the screen to silence it before standing from my desk.

“Don’t look so sad to see me,” a voice teases. Lifting my eyes, I find Simon gliding down the hall towards me. The lawyer life suited him well, and so did his new job at the firm. He certainly had a flare for the suits, sporting a maroon number today. He seemed to be liking it and Harry never had a bad thing to say about him.

“Hi, Si.”

“Something the matter, Big B?” he pries, bumping his shoulder against mine as we turn into the east conference room where a few bodies congregate.

“No, just stuck on writing this deposition, so this will be a good break.”

“You mean a boring break,” Simon jokes, passing me an empty mug. 

“Hey, I can’t be caught saying that around here,” I say, sarcasm laced in my hushed voice.

“Oh, yeah. We can’t have the boss’ girlfriend be heard saying his speeches were boring,” his animated lilt tickles a happiness at my lips. A laugh passes between us as steam from the hot coffee wafts across my face. 

“What’s this I hear ‘bout boring? Ya aren’t talkin’ ‘bout yer bosses, now are you?” somebody pipes up. Looking over my shoulder, I’m awarded with the sight of Harry grinning far too proudly at his own joke. He embellishes it with a quick wink to me and a hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Oh, me calling you boring? Never in a million years,” Si cracks. I savor the sound of their loud laughs whilst pouring creamer and sugar into mine. Setting it down on the table we stand at, I pick up another mug, filling this one to the top with the scalding coffee.

“Thank you, my love,” my boyfriend smiles when I hand him the hot coffee. “Better go find a seat, tha two o’ you are late, per usual,” he quips, waving a circle into my back before leaving.

“Yeah right, like we’re late,” Si scoffs, turning to walk away. The rest of the gang had joined us by now, and I find an empty seat next to Rose towards the back. 

I had come up with my own little rule at these things. It started with never sitting up front by Harry where he and Myles spoke. Certainly, I never sat in the back straight across from him where his eyes would gravitate. They both were bad ideas, and I’d quickly found them out from a past mistake or two. 

Today, Myles started us off. There was something about a required employee training. Of course, there was the annual Halloween party coming up later this month, a charity function in the works, and working a table at an upcoming uni job fair. Harry and I may or may not be going as a certain Spice Girls couple, wink wink. 

Slowly, like always, it grew to be boring. That’s when the texts started, despite the number of times Harry groaned about me distracting him on previous occasions. I quickly found it near impossible to not give him the dirtiest of looks across the room. It didn’t help that we were on near opposite sides, and he was facing Myles, pretending to pay attention. Per usual.

what should we do 2night for dinner? was thinkin i could do u 2 start with 

He did a terrible job of wicking the smirk from his lips when I looked at him next. Kneading at his bottom lip hardly hid it, and drinking my coffee didn’t save me either.

You’re bad, is all I text back, making it look as if I’m taking notes on my laptop. I just hope nobody else can see, but I try to make sure of that.

oh i could be loads of things if u let me love. like in between ur legs 2night or if ur good enough some time b4 we go home 

He didn’t even need to add a winky face or a saucy emoji. This man and his way with words, I swear it’ll be the death of me. He will, one way or the other. Hiding my laugh with a cough, I bring my mug back to my lips, nearly choking when Harry’s gaze slinks over to mine. 

“You okay?” Si whispers.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, holding eye contact with Harry. Nobody else might notice it, but I see it. The way one of his dimples plays hide and seek with me on his cheek, accompanying his sly lips. A pair that I’m itching to have on me, here and now. Well, in fifteen minutes or so. 

alright becks? choking already thinkin bout me big dick bein in ur mouth?

Stop, we’re in a meeting, Harry. Your meeting 

doesn’t stop me love so don’t let it stop u now 

God, you’re unbelievable, Harry

so are those lips of urs bug. cant wait 2 have those pretty things round me cock 2day. up 2 u if ya want me sooner or later 

Trying to mask my long sigh, I press the cover of my laptop shut. It’s even harder to resist sneaking a look at Harry. He is so full of shit, faking a glance around the room just to make brief eye contact with me. Of course, while he licks his lips. My eyebrows lift only in the slightest and he manages a shrug at me whilst leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head like the cocky boss he is. 

Rose’s spiel that was actually holding my attention is interrupted when my wrist vibrates ten minutes later. I’m already beginning to roll my eyes when I lift it, wondering what Harry has said now. But, it’s not him. It’s who I least expected out of anyone. 

Hi, bunny. I’m in London for a few days . . . I want to see you. Could we get coffee or lunch? xo 

The rest of Rose’s speech goes absolutely over my head. If you asked me what it was about, I couldn’t tell you, despite the fact that I heard it. But no, I didn’t. Not really. Nor did I hear Simon’s subsequent jokes or when Rose called on me to share progress on our case. I couldn’t remember what, just the way everybody looked at me, like the kid in class caught not paying attention. It didn’t help seeing the worry etched onto Harry’s face, then and now, as I sit in the car next to him. 

Another one had come by now, and still, I had no idea what to say or do.

“Did ya hear what I said, ‘bout dinner?” 

Lifting my gaze, I see Harry’s patient one waiting for me. 

“No, sorry. What’d you say?”

Waiting for the light to turn, his hand had folded mine into his firmly. Delicate circles were left on my skin by his thumb. “You alright t’day, Becks?”  

“Fine. Did you want to get takeaway for dinner, or just warm up leftovers?” 

“F’get ‘bout dinner fer a second, Becks, and please tell me what’s been botherin’ you t’day. We agreed on no mo’ lies, bug, and I know yer not fine. I can tell,” his objection comes in a gentle murmur, accentuated by his thumb pressing against mine. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s sighed, almost lost in the Arctic Monkeys song filling the car, until Harry turns it off. “My mum texted me today, during our team meeting.” 

The ‘oh’ that comes from him is teeming with realization and a certain weight to it. All I can think of to do in response is to nod. I busy myself with sliding his new opal ring off his left forefinger. 

“‘s okay, bug, I understand . . ‘m sorry, too. So, what’d her text say?”

The white glow from the touchscreen display in Harry’s Rover illuminates the reflective specks in the stone. They cover the rainbow, spanning from purple, white, pink, and a mint green. Harry had joked when he’d gotten it that I was probably going to steal it from him more often than not, knowing how I loved opals. He was right, and that was a few months ago. I had worn it until now on my thumb when he belatedly stole it back from me. It fit him better, anyways. 

“That she’s in London, and she wants to get together,” my voice is childlike, shy and lacking volume. Harry begins to speak, until I stop him, with my voice and my subsequent words. “Then, when I didn’t respond that I’m invited to lunch with her and Robbie tomorrow afternoon at some restaurant Robbie likes.” 

“Oh,” he hums, lips stilling when he looks over his shoulder before making a turn. “Did you text her back yet?”

“No. I don’t want to go, or talk to her. I dunno why she does this, just pop up out of the blue as if she hasn’t spoken to me in almost two years . . since my accident.” 

“You don’t hafta go, Becks. There’s nothin’ makin’ you go. Yer an adult and you make yer own decisions, bug. You don’t owe her anythin.’” 

“I know, but that doesn’t stop her from the guilt trips. I don’t even remember unblocking her number . . she must have gotten a new one. But, I’m afraid, Harry,” I confess, threading the ring back onto his finger riddled with fine dark hairs. He allows me, having gotten used to it by now, and the way that I trace the veins poking out of his skin. 

“Of what, babe? ‘s not like she can- well, I guess she could.” 

I try to swallow past the nerves, and the unsaid words, but it’s difficult, to say the last. “Yeah, she could. It’s not very hard to Google your name and find the address of your firm. She must know by now that I work for you again.”

“Bug, even if she came t’ tha firm, she has t’ get past Amelia first, and that’s not gonna happen. She’d ring you and say who’s in tha lobby waitin’ fer you, you could easily turn her away, if anythin’.” 

“You’re right.” 

“‘m always right,” he coos, lifting a brow at me goofily when his piercing eyes meet mine. The curl to his lips doesn’t linger, and they soon flatten out with understanding and severity. “It’ll be okay, Becks. Do what feels right. Text her back and say no, or don’t talk t’ her at all. She doesn’t deserve yer time o’ day afta what she’s put you thru.’ Dunno how people like that can’t understand ya don’t jus’ get t’ pop in and out o’ yer kid’s life,” it’s a muttering as his head shakes back and forth. The whirring sound of the garage door opening before us fills the empty space of the car. 

Harry knew. He knew all about it with the disappearing parent act, the parent who was preferable when they were absent. Yet, his Dad had popped back into his life, but this time he hadn’t left. Sometimes, I was a tad bit jealous, if I were honest. Not with him, though, but Skye sniffed it out on me once. I had wished a thousand times over since I was little that my mum was different, that she was a normal mum, and a better one. It never came true that wish, but yet at 28, I still found myself making it without trying. Lasting only moments, I still felt sour with guilt at times for the thought, despite being overjoyed for Harry about the recent development. 

“Have you spoken to your dad lately?” I decide to say, draping my work bag over my shoulder. 

“Ya, um . . yest’day, I think it was. He called me on my way back from tha courts. He’s doin’ a job in Edinburgh but wants t’ get together with us when he’s back. I don’t rememba him bein’ a good cook, but he wants t’ have us over fer dinner at his.” 

“That sounds nice. Would you like that?” 

The house is quiet and dark when we step inside. The typical one word male response comes as I set my shoes next to his on the mat, letting him take my light coat. 

“Shit, kinda forgot ‘bout takeaway. Are leftovers fine, bug?” 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” my answer comes. Harry’s humming fills my ears, and although I love it, my attention is held elsewhere. 

“Let’s wait on dinner,” he announces, but not until his arms come around my middle do I start to pay attention. The two waiting texts before me disappear when Harry gently takes my phone away, setting it down on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea o’ how I could take yer mind off o’ things.” 

I can’t resist, the way my lips split into a smile. The containers of Harry’s famous stir fry are forgotten on the counter when I feel the first kiss he plants to my neck. 

“Oh, really, Mr. Styles, what ever could that be?” it comes out in a giggle, because all control I thought I had is lost with my words. He looks close to one when I turn around in his arms, finding his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Anythin’ ya want, bug, anythin’ at all.” 

“A baby?” I tease, reveling in the sight of his eyes widening. Now, the laugh spills from his decadent, cherry lips. 

“Careful there, Becks, yer gettin’ ahead o’ yerself. Y’know my stipulations on that one,” he jokes, wagging a finger at me. The soft light above the granite top island lends a glow to his face, not that he’d ever need another one, considering the sunshine he holds. I wish I could say the same thing for me, but he whisks it away with those very words. “Y’know ‘ll give you a baby one day, all tha babies you want. But, fer now, what’ll make my bug happiest?” 

My answer doesn’t come in words or a look- well, I may let one go on accident. It’s hard not to while his eyes bore into mine, my hands making their way up his chest underneath his button down. “Will you come and take a bath with me?”

“Certainly. Rough day, bug?” I only nod my head, feeling the knot in my throat when I try to swallow, unable to stop remembering them all. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

My head going from side to side suffices for words, and so does the way I drop my head to his chest. His solid arms come around me, smoothing my hair back with gentle strokes. 

“Sounds like a bath bomb and back massage kinda night.” 

“Thank you,” is all I say, because I know that he knows, without him having to say it. 

“‘Course, my love, jus’ wanna make you happy.” 

Closing my eyes, I try to forget the things that had piled up the last week, and the questions I wish I could ask him, but I’m not sure how. 

I don’t know where it had started, or even when, really. As Harry dips his hand under the bathwater to get it just right, they come floating back to me. The way he had been distant, and yet not, but one outweighed the other. 

“C’mere, my girl,” he coos, inching a finger back and forth, beckoning me over to him. Obliging, the floor is ice cold against my bare feet, but his hands deposit a warmth on my skin I’ve missed. “Can I help you get undressed, honeybug?”

Nodding, I absentmindedly pick a spot on the wall to stare at. It was an imperfection at best, a white divot amongst the soft gray. From one of Harry’s drunken nights nearing a year ago, it appeared one morning and he still hadn’t gotten it fixed. It went unnoticed for lengths at a time, but I wish I could say the same for the things I picked up on this week. The way he’d immediately hang up on a phone call when I entered the room, at work or home. Speaking of his phone, he wouldn’t let me use it when I’d happen to lose mine and needed to look something up, not even to take a picture. Instead, he’d make up some excuse about expecting a call, or that it was about to die, despite seeing his battery was at least half full. It confused me, to say the least, but that only shrank in comparison when it came to the apparent work dinner I wasn’t invited to the other night. Then, there was the entire absence of talking about ring shopping, as if it had never existed. I’d ask if we could go and look at this shop, and he’d agree to it but no more would be said. Or, I’d show him a ring I saw online and he’d have nothing more to say than a one word response. It didn’t help that Skye seemed too busy for me as well, cancelling our weekly dinner to hang out with Asher instead, as if we couldn’t have all hung out together. I could have used one of her pep talks, or so I thought until I mentioned my predicament to her, and she brushed it off, telling me it was probably nothing. That only drove me further up the Worry Wall, now wondering if I was making something out of nothing. 

/

“Alright, bubs?” 

She wasn’t alright, and I could tell. It was clear as day, beginning with the far away look in her eye. It only stuck as I lifted her sweater dress over her head, and peeled her black jeggings from her legs. 

“Pinky P?” she ignored our inside joke and got into the tub first. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I watched her as she rested her chin on her knees that hugged her chest. I wondered if she knew, and if I had been too distant, trying to hide it from her. The last thing I would ever want to do in the world is to hurt her. I’m afraid that while trying to do the most important thing in my life, I’ve hurt her in the process. 

“Becks, wanna go out t’ dinner t’gether on Friday? I heard ‘bout this really great place, I think we’d like it,” she hums an audible confirmation, it’s barely there, whilst holding the raspberry colored bath bomb in her hand. “‘m gonna go and warm up dinner and we can eat it in tha bath. That sound good t’ you, bub?”

“Sure,” she says, again. She usually loves my stir fry, and when she doesn’t request her classic big glass of milk with it to keep the spicyness in check, I know she’s not herself. 

Shit, what have I done? 

I find her eyes have lulled closed after I set my empty dinner plate on the floor on top of hers. “C’mere, li’l one,” I hum, waving my fingers in and out towards her. She groans a denial, content to rest her head on her knees still. I don’t take no for an answer, hooking my hands in the crease of her legs. “Becks baby.” 

Huffing, she lifts her pretty head and stuns me with those eyes. A tiredness sits in them, something more than exhaustion from getting up at six am today. Flashing my award winning smile at her, she at last uncurls herself and wades through the bathwater until I pull her onto my lap. 

Now, the hot water isn’t the only thing keeping me warm when she curls up against my chest. Water collects at the ends of her hair, making it hard to comb my fingers through, but only at first. Peering down at her, I watch as her bare chest rises and falls with breaths, something I once was so afraid of not seeing. To never get to see again. 

I thank my lucky stars on the daily for still being blessed with this sight. Her temple is damp with beads of sweat and water mixed together, but I can still smell it there, the orange blossoms and vanilla. Her smell, one I could inhale forever. 

“‘m sorry ‘ve been so busy lately, I know ‘ve been a bit distant,” it begins as a mumble on my lips, and there’s no stopping it in time. “Know you’ve noticed it too, and that ‘s upset ya.” 

“Is something wrong? Did I-,” her question is spoken gingerly, fear in her voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

“No, ‘course not, bug. Nothing’s tha matter, and you didn’t do anythin’ wrong, please don’t think you did. ‘ve jus’ been busy with a project at work, but I promise it’ll be finished soon,” the thought itself brought to life by my voice teases my lips with a smile, knowing the finish line that I approach. At last. 

“Okay . . thanks, Harry.” 

“Welcome, bubs,” I murmur, exhaling against her forehead. Her forehead is balmy where I rest my lips, letting my eyes shut too, listening to nothing but the sound of her breathing. After all of this time, I still felt a chill in my bones when my thoughts were yanked to her accident. Now, it only makes me feel as if my words didn’t do enough to reassure her, but I wasn’t sure what more I could do without giving it away. No, I couldn’t do that. “I love you so much, Becks, can’t wait t’ marry you one day.” 

“I love you too, Harry,” it’s an almost snigger from her decadent lips. I wait for more, but it doesn’t come, not until she stirs in my arms. 

“What d’ya think yer doin’?” it’s my turn to spill a giggle, watching her move in my arms until she’s facing me. More importantly, straddling my lap and running a hand through my hair. 

Her answers came in a simple shrug of her shoulders, but the tilt to her lips spoke volumes more. My name for her sounds from my lips as a tut, but she quickly whisks it away with her own on mine. The rippling of the bath water around us is the only sound besides the way our lips move together. Her ass is spongy and slick beneath my naked fingers, and her squeal against my lips is heaven and everything more. 

“Can I still take you up on that offer?” her words graze my mouth, craving me to reach forward and return them to mine. 

“What offer, bug?” I ask under hooded eyes, mine boring into hers the color of bottomless oceans. 

It was more than music to my ears, it was everything good stitched together by her lips, “To take my mind off things . . and yours, in the process.” 

“Certainly,” I say, beginning to move until her hands push against my chest. “Use yer words.” 

“Let me.” 

It’s a giggled reply at best, because as she adjusts herself on top of me, any possibility of speaking soon wanes. “Yer bloody confusin,’ y’know that, Becks?” 

“Is this confusing to you, Harry?” she murmurs with a flick of her expressive brows. It’s not her words, but something else that knocks some air out of me. Nearly impossible to notice, her composure has grown since she’s become a lawyer, especially as she starts to rub her crotch against my hardening member. 

“Not at all, baby, jus’ tell me what you need me t’ do.” 

“Kiss me,” she answers, fervor shining in her voice. I don’t even get to laugh before she steals it from me with her lips, bringing a groan from them next when she takes my dick in her hand. 

/

A quiet battle rages inside of me, not wanting her to leave, but at the same time, I need her to. There’s never a day where she doesn’t look beautiful, and on days when she has court she tries even more. She asked me once when I find her the most beautiful, and her first guess was these days when she argued her case, but I said no. It brought her eyebrows together in confusion, pinching her oval face in the cutest of ways. No, I found her the most beautiful in the first light of the morning, in the way sleep clung to every bit of her, making her slower and more . . her. It could be found in the lighty giggles that she painted the air with, the way her nose scrunched together in the middle of one. Her hair swept in different places, and how she clung to me like my own personal koala. If koalas were simultaneously personal heaters. Becks was most beautiful in the morning, because in those first few minutes of waking up, I was reminded anew that she chose to be mine. A dream of mine I doubted over and over about the possibility of. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t need makeup to make her beautiful, but her eyelashes longer from mascara fluttered against her skin with the question. Her dark chocolate eyebrows she swept a pencil over every morning hugged the pale skin between them. 

“Oh,” it plummets from my lips with astonishment, and a clearing of my throat. The left corner of her mouth greets her cheek when the gesture clicks with her. God, sometimes she can still take my breath away by just the sight of her, even several years later. “Ya still manage t’ make me weak in tha knees, y’know that? I dunno how you do it, bug,” I reply with a clicking of my tongue, edging towards her. A shade of coral arrives in her cheeks with my words and proximity, only growing darker when I wrap my arms around her from behind. 

“So do you, you know.” 

“Mmm, thought so, thanks fer tha confirmation, love,” it’s a reply joined by my nose against her temple. Her flighty laugh graces my ears once more, and I’m smiling without knowing it. God, I can’t wait to hear that laugh for the rest of my life. Which reminds me. “You and Rose should get goin’, love, if ya want t’ get t’ tha courts early. Lunch traffic may be bad.” 

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?”

“‘m not, jus’ lookin’ out fer you, ‘s all,” I choose to say, glad she can’t see the way that I check my watch, seeing the texts waiting on my screen. Too similar to how they’re waiting. 

“Okay, Dad. I’ll see you later then, for dinner tonight?” Suddenly, I’m looking into her eyes, the very color I hope our kids have. I know our kids will have them, they’ll be so lucky.

“‘ll see you afta yer done, bug. Good luck on yer case, I know you’ll smash it.” 

“Thanks,” it’s spoken with warmth, one that I know I’ll miss despite wanting her to go. Needing her to go. “Still picking me up after?”

“‘Course, my love. We can’t f’get dinner t’night.” 

“I’m excited. Rose said she likes Isabelle’s,” she comments, wasting her

time by playing with the opal ring on my hand. Mine that she’d stolen for a good while, and I finally took back. “They have really good desserts and steaks.” 

“‘ve heard that too. Can’t wait t’ try some with you t’night,” it comes out with a smile, but I’m never sure that I could ever match hers. It had gotten better over the last few days, I think I was finding a balance between keeping it but not keeping her out. Her lips taste of cinnamon roll coffee creamer and cherry chapstick when I peck her, just how she always does. I could do with kisses tasting like that forever and ever. “Bye, bug. You girls drive safe now.”

“We will. Bye, have a good day.” 

“See ya. Stop putzing, and get goin,’ li’l one,” I titter, savoring the taken aback look on her face when I slap her ass. The sound of her’s fills my ears as I join her in the hallway, watching her walk away and get onto the lift. 

I give it a few more moments, imagining the space placed between us,  hoping she won’t be returning for something she had forgotten. Now, that would be bad. Only once I feel confident, do my feet wake up and I start on my way, contradicted by the way my heart gallops like a horse right out of the gates. 

“Here we go, Harry. One o’ tha biggest days o’ yer lives, jus’ on tha horizon,” I mumble aloud to me and only him, stopping when I reach the door. Already, I can hear their voices from this side, but before I can open it, I fill my lungs with an impatient breath. 

Their sounds slowly fall when I make my entrance, feeling as I’m still running that race inside of my chest, knowing I’m nowhere near the finish line. Perhaps, I’m just a bit closer. When each of their faces lifts to mine, the faces of our families, it imbues me with a shattering sense of reality meeting dreams. One I’ve had held inside of me for so long now. 

“Alright, so ‘bout t’night then. You lot ready t’ help me with this or what?”

/

I thought I knew what I was doing, but when I turned onto our street, I quickly found that I had no idea at all. I was afraid she could feel the clamminess of my hand, or that that feeling of hers would give it away all entirely. The dinner had gone as perfectly as it could’ve, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I only hoped that the next part would, because it was the most important one of all. Arguably, this would be the most important case of my life that I needed to win. A whirring of the garage door gave a background to my thoughts as I tap at my Apple watch, heaving a sigh when I see the text. 

We’re all ready when you are! 

/

Pulling my coat around me tighter, I follow Harry through the garage and into the house. He had promised more chocolate once we had gotten home from dinner. Although it sounded wonderful, I wasn’t sure how I could fit any more in my stomach after the lavish meal we had just stuffed ourselves with. I still couldn’t figure out why he had gone out of his way to have dinner together at one of the most expensive places in town, Isabelle’s. 

I barely get the chance to shrug off my coat when I feel him tug on my hand. His name escapes my lips in a giggle, similar to the one that gleams in his eyes. 

“C’mon, bug, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you,” Harry insists, waiting for me to join him. Leaving the dark downstairs, I follow him up the flight of wooden steps. 

“What’s that?”

“Yer supposed t’ be able t’ see Jupiter t’night in tha night sky. I know ‘s yer favourite one, bug,” I find myself nodding along with his words. Still, I’m unable to tear myself away from the warm gray suit he donned for tonight, the one that started it all for us. 

“Okay, but I really need the loo first.” 

“‘Kay, take yer time. ‘ll try t’ see if I can find it fer us then,” the words leave my lips with a wobbliness to them. If that feeling of her’s was piqued or if she knew something, Becks didn’t let on. All she did was flash me a funny smile before rushing into the bathroom, hardly closing the door. 

No matter the lengths I go to, I can’t seem to breath in long enough. It all was descending upon me, as I peeked out at the back garden and felt a warmth bubbling inside of me and onto my lips. The effervescent feeling carried through in my limbs as I stepped onto the balcony, pressing record before smoothing down my hair and my suit. 

I felt like if it were ever going to happen, my heart would certainly leap from my chest tonight. Just in a matter of moments, for her. Because of her. 

/

“Did you find it, Harry?” I wonder aloud, stepping through the doorway of the bathroom, returning to our bedroom. 

“Y-Ya,” from the balcony of our bedroom, he responds. Was that a stammer, I just heard? “C’mere, bug, lemme show you.” 

“Okay,” my answer comes, and so does a thought when I glance Harry’s phone propped up on our bed with the camera pointing at me. Funny that it landed that way, I wonder when he’s going to break it from tossing it onto our bed so many times, I think quietly to myself. 

The midnight indigo sky beckoned me forth, as did Harry who looked at me over his shoulder. A soft glow from the balcony light fell over us as I stopped at the railing beside him, peering up at the night sky. 

“Alright,” he sighs, stretching out his arm to point a ringed finger at the expanse of darkness. “Ya see that bright light over on tha left hand side o’ tha sky? There it ‘s, that’s Jupiter fer ya. Told ya I knew a thing or two ‘bout space, Becks.” 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” it comes out in a drawn out breath, astonishment dripping from my words. Even if it was just a twinkling light in the night sky, it was that seven letter word beginning with an A. 

A tingly warmth builds on my cheek, and looking to my right, I find Harry smiling at me. For a second, I think I see a wetness collecting in his eyes, but it’s gone when I blink. 

“What?”

My question sits in the air, unanswered by him while he brushes his thumb across my cheek. 

“Yer amazin,’ Becks . . prettier than any star in any sky, my love,” his words are spaced out in between breaths, and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, punctuating the end of his words. The corners of my lips lift into a smile, something he can never fail to do, but it was only one out of many. 

“Thank you, Harry,” I murmur softly, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. In the movement, something catches my eye. The feeling of his prickly cheek against my lips is but a memory as my gaze follows through with its curiosity. “Wait, what’s-.” 

My lips pause and so does the question on my lips when I peer down at our back garden. The trees and bushes are lit up all over by candlelight. A breath gets caught in my throat as the image before me comes together, candles organized with their flames spelling two words. My hand instantly flies to my mouth as my breath escapes me, tears taking their place. 

They read, MARRY ME?

I didn’t hear it or let alone see it, the way he had sunk down onto one knee, but when I turn to face Harry, the first one falls. Down my cheek, and then his. His trademark wheeze paints the air as his sages overflow with tears. Swallowing, I taste the briny ones on my lips as an image I’d dreamt of and doubted fills my eyes. It’s unmistakable, the way his knee shakes, the other bent underneath him as the light catches the gleaming diamond ring held in his hand. 

“H-Harry,” it’s shaky and adorned with tears, but the sight before me becomes clearer when I blink. “Yes, of course, yes!” I exclaim, and he’s laughing deeply. 

“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet, bug,” he chuckles loudly with a shake of his head. “C’mere you, get over here.” Obliging, my legs nudge me over to him where he takes my hand in his. 

“Bloody hell, woman, I memorized this whole speech. Least let me try and say it,” the obnoxious and loud laugh that spills from his lips could never fail to be music to my ears. He blows out a breath from his lips rounded into an O, and we both shed apprehensive giggles. “Have I ever told you all o’ tha things I love most ‘bout you, Becks? I could write a book ‘bout ‘em all, but they start with how kind you always are. Reckon it was tha first thing I noticed ‘bout you after those killer eyes o’ yers on tha day we met. You’ve never stopped being kind t’ me, even when I didn’t deserve it, or when others didn’t. That and how bloody unrelenting you are were tha first things that struck me ‘bout you when you were my assistant, Becks. I never would’ve thought we’d get t’ where we are t’day seein’ where we started, but I could never thank you enough fer not givin’ up on me, Becks . . on us. God, ‘m ramblin’ now, ‘m sorry,” there it is again, his signature wheeze. A similar sound comes from me as we take a breather to wipe at our eyes. The only sound surrounding us is the galloping of my heart, probably his too, and my favorite sound falling from his lips. 

“It’s okay, keep going. You’re doing great,” I urge him in a soft whisper, hoping my wink is half as good as his when he smiles that sunshine up at me. He nods once, squeezing my hand firmly before going back to tracing nervous circles onto my knuckles. 

“Yer humor too, it may be cheesy sometimes, and not as funny as mine,” no, my wink could never be good as the one he gives me now. Effortlessly cute. “But I love it, and so many mo’ things ‘bout you, Rebecca Ann. Tha way you take care o’ me. I know ‘ve said it befo’ but yer so good t’ me with yer cookin’, puttin’ up with my cold feet in bed and tha way I hog tha covers, workin’ t’gether at me firm which I know presents ‘s own set o’ challenges, and how you’ve made me into a better person ev’ry day since I met you. Ya get on me nerves and yer stubborn as a bloody bull, but I can’t imagine spendin’ tha rest o’ me life with anybody but you. ‘s been that way fer years now, love, and I can’t go another day without you knowin’ it.” 

“I do, Harry,” it’s a mere whisper, but his smile soaks it all up, and so does mine for his sunshine. 

“Hey, what’d I say ‘bout you gettin’ ahead o’ yerself here?” his lips couldn’t lift higher and his sunshine couldn’t be brighter. Our heads shake with songs of laughter, my very favorite tune in the entire world. “Yer me favourite thing in this entire world, bug, and I want t’ spend tha rest o’ me life showin’ you that ev’ry day. I wanna have so many babies with you, even a li’l boy named Lennon perhaps, and a li’l girl named Luna, like we’ve said . . I want t’ argue cases with you fer tha rest o’ me career, ‘cos yer me favourite lawyer. Yer my partner, bug, and I always want t’ have you there at my side, Becks . . There’s so much mo’ I could say t’ you, tellin’ you how I love you, but I know I have tha rest o’ me life t’ do it. So, Rebecca Ann Holte-,” he pauses with a frog in his throat, shaking his head. A knot tightens in mine as I watch him press his face into the crook of his arm, crying quietly with a smile. Pulling away after a moment, he exhales and looks to me with a wet smile dripping with sunshine.

“Harry,” I sigh, tears tightening around my words. 

Clearing his throat, he continues, “What d’ya say t’ changin’ that last name o’ yers t’ Styles fer me? Will you marry me, Becks?”

“There’s nothing I’d want more, Harry, than to spend the rest of my life with you,” they’re coated in tears, soon mixing with his when I collapse into his arms, my lips pressed against his. I feel the nervousness spill at last from his lips when they touch the crown of my head, laying kisses there in layers as we shed happy tears. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yer ev’rythin’ ‘ve ever wanted, Becks,” Harry whispers there, pressing me firmly against his front. The light catches the well of tears in his eyes when I belatedly pull away, bringing my hand to his cheek. “My fiancee.” 

“Fiancee . . I like the sound of that,” I murmur, tracing the outline of his bottom lip. He nods with my words, just as a tear falls into the divot in his cheek. 

“Y’know what I like tha sound of?” his voice is gentle and just above a whisper that I answer with my head cocked to the side. “Rebecca Styles. Becky Styles.” 

It couldn’t feel sweeter, the sound that coasts off my lips, him soon replicating it. Even sweeter it tastes when I touch my lips to his, finding that same word in his smiling eyes. Following them, they fall to the mahogany colored wooden box he clutches in his hand. 

“Oh, ya, can’t forget ‘bout this now. ‘s very important,” Harry says, opening the box once again, and I’m brought to tears by the sight of it. 

“Harry, is that-,” I begin, but tears take hold of my voice prematurely, my hand over my mouth in disbelief. Sniffling, his ring laden hand dives into my hair, knowing how it calms me. “H-Her ring?”

Flicking my eyes to his, he hums a reply before his lips part, “Ya, ‘s yer Grandma Ann’s, Becks.” his neck smells of vanilla and sandalwood when I find myself in his arms again, spewing ugly tears onto his shoulder. “Been on tha phone with yer dad almost ev’ry day fer tha last two weeeks talkin’ ‘bout it, ‘bout doin’ this.” 

Hiccups rack my chest when I pull away, eyes gravitating towards the glinting piece of jewelry tucked away into his large hand. “I-I see why you were being so sneaky lately,” I muster, swiping under my eyes. Despite the breaths I try to shove down my lungs, I can’t stop shaking. 

“Ya, ‘m sorry ‘bout that. I thought somethin’ was up with you, figured you’d noticed. Didn’t mean t’ keep you out, Becks, but couldn’t have you findin’ out and spoilin’ all tha fun I had planned fer you,” he murmurs, booping my nose. My eyes fall shut when he presses his lips to my cheek, nudging his face against mine. “Important stuff here . . Now, let’s see if it fits.” 

Gulping, I hold out my hand, wincing at the way it shakes. As I watch his long fingers delicately remove the golden ring from the velvet cushion, I try to remember how I’d come to be sitting on his lap. How all of this had happened. A sigh of relief washes over me when he takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it before his other nears it. With bated breath, my gaze flicks between his hand and his greens that watch the same. 

A smile climbs my cheeks as Harry slides off my promise ring, pressing his lips to the naked skin. Happiness sighs from my lips with a choked sound, watching how he carefully places the thin golden band onto my finger. Folding my fingers into his, his wheeze graces the air as I admire the nostalgic ring.

“They’re me Grandma Claire’s diamonds too, from her wedding ring. She wanted me t’ use ‘em when I told her I was goin’ t’ propose t’ you,” he explains softly as I tilt my hand back and forth, watching how the several diamonds catch the light. 

“Oh, Harry,” it catches in my throat as disbelief paints my insides. Guilt rises with it as I remember growing upset with him in my mind, fearing that this was never going to happen. Now, as I stare down at the ring that seals our promise, I truly can’t fathom it. Seeing is believing. 

I’d seen this ring time and time again whilst growing up, admiring it on several occasions. My gran even let me wear it once or twice, joking that it was because I was her favourite. I never thought I would get to wear it one day myself, and that thought makes my vision swim with more tears. Blinking them away, I brush my thumb over the round diamond set into the middle, and the smaller tear drop shaped ones set into the winding bands of gold connecting to the main band. 

“How’s it fit, bug?” 

“Perfect,” my answer is shy, riddled with memories from the only other time I’d worn it before. It had once swallowed my finger, hanging dangerously loose. Not now. No, it fit me snugly, reminding me of all of the years that had passed. Bringing my eyes to his, the dimples only fall deeper into his cheeks. “It’s more than beautiful, Harry, thank you . . Thank you for letting me keep her with me every day, and Claire too.” 

“Yer mo’ than welcome, Becks. ‘m so happy that they get t’ be a part o’ this with us.” 

My chest only shakes harder when he says those words, and I even feel his do the same against mine. At last, the dryness in my throat wasn’t because of pain or hurting, but for a moment, I let myself feel that. I allow myself to remember speaking with her about when I would get married one day as I wore her ring that was too big for me, wishing for a second that I could go back to that day. 

“Harry, you have no idea how much this means to me . . to get to have her with me for this.” wrinkles gather around his eyes when I see them again. They’re painted with tears, and the mere sight of him makes my heart swell. I never thought it could be this good. No, not when I dreamt out loud with my gran about one day wearing a big, white dress and marrying the man of my dreams. I could have never known that I’d be blessed with a man who was that, and more. “I used to talk to her about my silly little girl dreams of getting married, and she’d let me try on her ring and . . “ I muse, my forehead pressed to his, staring at the ring together. 

“Yer dad told me ‘bout that, it only made it seem even mo’ perfect t’ use her ring. He was so happy t’ pass it on t’ me, Becks- onto you,” Harry whispers, sponging kisses across my face in slow movements. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been smiling, and was sure that I’d never be able to stop, mumbling soft ‘thank you’s to him. 

“Well?!” comes a shout from nowhere. Nearly jumping, my gaze lifts to the balcony railing and the flickers of light I make out through them where the voice had come from. “What’d she say?! We’re bloody dying over here waiting, and freezing our asses off, mind you!” When my eyes meet Harry’s, our giggles light up the air around us, our breaths mingling. 

“I’m fucking freezing! Are you done yet?” comes yet another voice, one that I also recognize. My eyebrows only fall further into a question as I look at Harry. 

His shoulders rise only to fall, “What? Don’t think I set up all o’ those candles and lit ‘em meself, d’ya? ‘s flatterin’ if ya think so, but I had a li’l help.” 

“What, who?”

“Who d’ya think, bug? Our family,” he answers, swiping his thumb underneath my eye to catch a tear. It makes my lips still, the way he said it. They’re my family now, and mine is his. “Care t’ do tha honors, or shall I?” 

“You can. I just know you’re itching to,” it’s a giggle that only grows louder as he lifts his eyebrows at me. 

“She said yes! We’re gettin’ married!” Harry shouts, and a loud cheer follows ensuite from down below. My favorite sound in the world fills my ears when his lips come to press against my head. “My Becks, forever and ever, baby.”

“Forever,” I repeat aloud, trying it out, as if I hadn’t already a million times over in my head. “Wait, who all did you rassle together for this sneaky mission of yours?” 

“We’ll meet you inside, it’s fucking cold out!” Robbie shouts, followed by a loud ‘brr.’

It comes from his lips again, that sound. Tilting my head to meet his eyes, the sound of his heart thumps in my ear. I’m not sure I could have found a better spot. 

“As you can tell by their loud mouths, Skye and Robbie, first o’ all. Then, ‘course yer dad and my mum, me sister, Myles, and Asher,” he grins, pride dripping from every word he speaks. “My Dad helped with tha reservation at Isabelle’s, he couldn’t have spoke higher o’ tha place. I can see why now, can’t picture our pre-proposal dinner bein’ anywhere else. It only made t’night mo’ perfect . . ‘d thought o’ doin’ it with Scrabble tiles, seein’ how ‘s always been our thing, but I wanted somethin’ grander. Mum and Gemma gave me tha idea o’ spellin’ it out bigger ‘til I thought o’ candles. Then, it was jus’ a matter of gettin’ enough o’ ‘em and lightin’ ‘em. I left tha hard part t’ them, and that jus’ left me with tha ring. Reckon that was really tha most difficult o’ all. Me Gran said I could have her wedding ring, I almost started cryin’ I was so choked up ‘bout it. It was that weekend I took ya home with me, seems it made her a li’l emotional talkin’ t’ ya knowin’ what was gonna happen. That was ‘til yer dad said he wanted me t’ have yer Grandma Ann’s ring, seein’ how close tha two o’ you were . . It jus’ seemed perfect, ‘d been thinkin’ so long on what kinda ring t’ get you, and it jus’ clicked. ‘Course, I still wanted t’ include me Gran somehow. Yer Gran’s ring was missin’ a few stones and hers fit jus’ right. I couldn’t be happier ‘bout tha ring, Becks, and it looks so beautiful on you, love. Like . . like it was made fer you, bug.” 

Words escape me, not that any feel like they could do any justice at this moment. No, those ones aren’t anywhere to be found, besides the ‘thank you’ I tell him, and the other one I say to him with my lips. 

I’m unsure if my legs will ever stop feeling like Jello when he helps me stand, my arms around his waist at the soonest chance. His lips radiated sunshine, but this time, every inch of his face did too. It’d spread to his limbs, imbuing me with his contagious rays when his arms come around me, and the way his lips wouldn’t leave mine alone. 

“What are you doing?” it’s a mumbled question laced with pure confusion when he pulls me over to the right side of the balcony. Realization only dawns on me when I watch what he picks up, light at last revealing it. “You recorded it?” there they are again, hugging my voice and refusing to let go. 

“‘Course, I did,” Harry grins, sliding his hand into the cloth handle on the other side of the compact camcorder. “Still am, look at my beautiful fiancee, and soon t’ be wife.” 

“Harry,” it sounds sad until my laugh overwhelms it, because my smile hasn’t even signalled a departure. 

“Look at that dimple shinin’ so bright,” he remarks, thumbing at the indent in my left cheek. It wanders to the imperfection below my eye. His hand is warm and clammy when mine comes to surround it, overflowing his eyes with tears. “And that ring- bloody hell, can’t believe I get t’ marry you- Hey, kids, if yer watchin’ this one day, which I bloody well hope you are, this ‘s yer Mum. ‘sn’t she absolutely gorgeous? I can’t wait t’ marry yer Mummy, she’s truly tha best person ‘ve met in me entire life- well, ‘til we meet you lot.” 

“Harry,” this time, it’s choked with a sob, or a few. His hand comes to his eyes, pressing his thumbs against his greens with that sunshine on his lips. The breathy sound of happiness sings from his lips when he drops it after a few moments of soft tears, staring back at me, his book wide open. 

“Figure we should show ‘em tha main attraction,” panning to the right, I follow him to the balcony where the multitudes of flickering flames still remain. “We’ll hafta go and blow ‘em out.” 

“Not yet. I just want to look at them awhile . . with you.” 

His reply is only a sniffle, amplified by the way he pulls me against his side, pointing the lens at us now. I look past it, down at the ground where the sight still steals the breath from my lungs, just like the pair of lips on my forehead. 

A few moments later, maybe longer, Harry’s whisper breaks through my thoughts, “Ready t’ go downstairs and show ev’rybody?” 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

“Dontchu worry, we’ve got forever, Becks.” 

Usually, I’d roll my eyes at the cheesy line he deals, but I can’t stop staring at him, still smiling at the thought of getting that with him. Forever. 

/

It beckoned me, trying and failing to drag me away, but I still wasn’t ready. Soft snores had begun to leave his lips long ago. I’m not even sure what the hour was anymore. Skye was the last to leave, to nobody’s surprise, when the small hand was nearing the eleven. Chocolate galore, charcuterie boards, pizzas, and sparkling grape juice filled the hours amongst more crying and stories upon stories. Harry’s clothes were the first to go once we were alone, and mine followed his soon after. 

I wondered if I’d ever stop thinking about it, or more importantly, stop staring at it. Only the least bit of light ran through the barely closed curtains, catching the ring, just like it’d always been. I also wondered when I’d stop crying, it was a little embarrassing when it happened in between the sheets with Harry. 

His stirring beside me brought my eyes upward and to him. Lines gathered on Harry’s forehead in his sleep, relaxing a second later. A huff fell from his lips and into the air as he relaxed, an inked arm stilling underneath his pillow. With a long blink, I belatedly tug the covers over my shoulders, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. He didn’t groan anymore or even move at the touch, or when the tip of my finger begins to trace the lines of the numbers hovering over his heart. The year that started it all, a three letter word that now had turned into forever, something I never thought I would get to have with him. I fall asleep with the smile still stuck to my lips, unwavering against the warm skin of his neck. 

/

A few days later, and it still hadn’t worn off. Secretly, I was hoping that it never would. Again, the smile still came when I caught sight of the promise on my finger, and was only a reach away. When I stopped in front of the sink in our ensuite bathroom, it fell when I called to Harry with a question, but only for a moment. 

“Babe, have you seen my pill pack?”

“No, I don’t think so. Have you checked tha usual spots?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I put it,” sighing, I pad across the cold, tile floor. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I’ll find it.” 

* 

Song: Let’s Get Married by The Bleachers (click to listen) ;) ;) 

[eatsyou-a]

‘   your gracious founder, a visitor is here to see you.   ’

there, he sits on the top of his throne, hands rests neatly in his lap. youthful, not yet touched by the devil; teeth free of fangs, fingers free of claws. you can get out, child, if you give yourself the opportunity to do so.     ‘   is that so? let them in!   ’

it's several moments before movement is heard and the door slides open to expose muzan kneeling and eyes cast towards the tatami, however with long hair down and dressed in an elegant, beautiful kimono; seeming to dress himself up for this occasion. it's an act of temporary acclaim, to give the illusion that douma alone deserves the respect and voice in this exchange.

a silence lingers over them both when it slides closed, eyes widening so slightly as he notices that the presence was far more illuminating than his own. stunned awe when cracked, red demon eyes meet with the purpose. his smile is soft, but the eyes tell a completely different story. he does not give him the opportunity to speak, letting him know from this moment that muzan is the figure on the pedestal.    ‘   i have heard about this cult across the mountains and cities. how pathetic to see a human pretending to play god; the boy with the rainbow eyes.   ’    now, he's no longer on his knees, but standing at full height, intimidation emitting from proud shoulders and the glare set on douma's body.     ‘   speak, douma.   ’

a seeming spell that was cast is snapped, mouth open in amazement. he was strong, unbeknownst that he was looking death straight in the face. no fear numbing the fingertips, just curiosity.    ‘    ah~ i see this is no normal visit then?   ’    instead, he plants on a manufactured smile; soft and taught.    ‘   that's me! the founder of eternal paradise! i'm actually very impressed you know my name!   ’  a hand is placed over his heart, giving an impression of the passion and proud duty of shouldering his followers' yawn - inducing stories.    ‘   i listen to those people that are suffering, that's my job—   ’

‘   —a job who's festering them with pointless lies. heaven and hell do not exist, a notion you very well understand. are they really so desperate to hold on to anything that will save them from an inevitable end? tell me, why do you hold this position when a god stands right in front of you?   ’    he takes a step closer, nails peaking past the line of sleeves.   (   he's no fool to not notice. oh, but what could he say; my parents forced me into this position, so this is all i've ever known?   )    ‘   you will answer me. kneel.   ’

which he does, moving from the comfort of large pillows for his turn to be his knees. innocent eyes look up in a clash against muzan's own, hands resting, too, upon tatami.    ‘   i'm sorry, i'm just intrigued, ya' know! you haven't even told me your name!   ’ 

his carefree attitude seems to irritate, no building horror for what he portrays. a hand shoots down to grab at the crowd of his head, nails digging and piercing into the scalp. no other moves are made, veins popping from ill - like pale skin. blood slowly starts to stain blond threads, which earns a silent scream, those rainbow irises blown wide, but makes no move to fight against him; can't, with the state of shock. hurts—   it hurts so much, like flesh slowly being peeled off layer by layer. it burns. what the hell was this man? 

his head tilts, but never changes his disposition.    ‘   why do you continue to live while your parents have long died? lust and wrath consumed them, leaving you behind. every day you play this charade when you gradually lose your interest; your worshippers disperse, leave. your eyes leave a lasting impression.   ’     the voice rests back to soft; turn and manipulate.    ‘   born to believe you’re a disciple of these gods. yet, here you stay, clinging to anything that identifies your humanity. you cry for them, help them until their last breaths. do you genuinely care for these stories when they have no one considers your own? you've heard it all before.   ’     shocking reds glower, digging his claws just a bit deeper.   ‘    i can give you a purpose.   ’     during this moment, he doesn't wait for an answer.     ‘   become a demon.    ’

blunt nails dig into rice straw matting, his heart hammering so fast in a hollow chest one would think it would burst out its rib cage. all of it was happening so fast, burning flesh distracting racing thoughts; it almost didn't catch up.     ‘   a  .  .  .  demon?   ’     his vocal cords feel crushed, feeling the blood rush down his throat; practically chokes on it. hands want to move and claw at his hand, pull it away but his body doesn't dare move. 

‘    you will dedicate yourself to me, grow strong and prove among those that sit at the bottom, gnawing their own bones and choking themselves with their intestines; take your place. rise the ranks to become an upper moon, douma. you will no longer feel that pain you have suffered. you will be surrounded by those who have lived like you, fought the same battles of the cruel truth of humanity: you are nothing. but you are special, those eyes will be useful to me.  .  .  .  if you let this since settle, you will die. a waste of a subordinate.   ’

time was ticking, the tips of his nails now penetrating the skill with the added gradual blood loss and irreversible damage to the brain. this was no negotiation, putting him in a situation where the answer is immediate, lest death will take over. except, he doesn't fear death or a possible domino future; the numbness of panic and the lighting strike of pain in his cranium is now nothing but a dull pressure. blood falls down his cheekbone and chin, drips to stain expensive clothes. he can't breathe, his own fluid caught in his throat. can't speak, so instead the look is giving muzan a silent plea. 

honestly, i'm bored of this repetitious life. living long until old age doesn't appeal to me. maybe this is something new that he can give me. maybe  .  .  .  i'll feel something that seems so far away; human emotions.

lips curl into a smile - like smirk, immediately pumping in irregular amounts of blood.     ‘   take it.   ’

the shocking wave of intense pain from the crown of his skull is nothing now, the pure gradients of colors explode from its sockets, red cascading down his cheeks; tears. the body convulses, scream caught halfway. bones slowly, torturously so, breaking into a million pieces only for them to fix themselves, teeth regrow with an emphasis on long canines. the hand gripping him remains so still, flesh seeming to transform into something abominable then resting still, veins prominent in his fingers up to his eyes, where they regrow as if they never burst. no carvings yet, but the moment or so passes, feeling the fingers leave and the wound heals slowly. now, lays an imitation of a permanent blood stain as he falls to the side and collapses, body remain twitching. slowly, the heart that beats so triumphally in his chest stops. it becomes no longer.

it feels as if it was minutes  .  .  .   hours. it seems this noise got the attention of the cults helpers and temple caretakers, which muzan takes one last look down at douma.    ‘   you're hungry, aren't you? eat. i'll look for you, worry not.    ’     turning to leave, the door shoots up, which they all run past, shouldering and bumping to force their way. seems the attention wasn't fixated on him, and if you looked back to accuse, he would be gone. 

‘    your gracious founder! are you alright?! quick, acquire a doctor!    ’     except when they aid a limp body, douma looks up at him with a unfamiliar, blinding hungry in his eyes. there lacks pupils, only color and uncharacteristic, sadistic smile as hands roughly grip the workers shoulders to force him down.

‘    you'll spare yourself, won't you?    ’     hungry, i'm so hungry. i've never felt this urgency to feast so intensely, these people who have been here since i was appointed  .  .  .   they don't matter to me. food. feed me, like you were intended to since the start.     ‘    thanks for the food!    ’

[killscreencinema]

Final Fantasy VII Remake (PS4)

We all have a precious work of art in our lives that made a profound impact on who we eventually grew up to be, whether it be an album, a painting, a movie, or especially nowadays, a video game.  Final Fantasy VII was that for me, and when it came out in 1997, it would go on to define my high school years.

Which would go a long way towards explaining why I never got laid during those said years.  Le sigh....

All kidding aside, I never got laid in high school mostly because I was a mess when it came to the social scene.  I had trouble connecting with others and taking what I perceived to be “big risks” like going to parties, joining after school clubs, or -GULP- asking out a girl I liked!  I was very withdrawn socially, but I did have friends, and one of them, whom I’d consider my best friend, managed to get his hands on the original Final Fantasy VII before I even owned a PlayStation (I had foolishly bought a Nintendo 64, believing the next Final Fantasy was going to be released on that). 

My friend and I were already very close, but we bonded even more as we experienced this new adventure together.  He had his own save file that he was pecking away at, but he created a new one for us both to play whenever I’d spend the night or vice versa.  The both of us were completely immersed in this world and these characters.  It was one of a few positive experiences I can remember from my high school years.

The reason for this preamble is to make you understand how much this game means to me on an emotional level.  So when the remake was announced years ago, I was extremely apprehensive.  First of all, Square Enix is a pale shadow of its former glory as Squaresoft.  Final Fantasy XIII was a goddamn mess and Final Fantasy XV was a step in the right direction, but hardly the stuff of legends like its PSone and SNES predecessors.  The Kingdom Hearts games... well, I’ll eventually talk about the rest of those in my blog.  Suffice it to say, I had completely lost faith in Square Enix as a company, whereas there was a day I’d play ANYTHING they released because I knew it would be quality.

So lets get to point - did they fuck up Final Fantasy VII Remake as well or is it an absolute masterpiece? 

Well... that’s kind of a hard question to answer right now as this is only “Part 1″ of what I assume will be a trilogy of releases that comprise the actual FULL game.  However, judging this game alone, I’m going to lean towards masterpiece... with huge “but”.  I’ll talk more about that below and warn of spoilers before I get to it.

Make no mistake about it, though, Final Fantasy VII Remake (part 1) is a goddamn masterpiece.  The care put into the game by the development team is evident from top-to-bottom, with even the most minute details from the original faithfully adapted.  However, this isn’t a strict beat-for-beat retread of FFVII, nor did I expect it to be.  While the game follows the basic story almost exactly, some tweaks have been made here or there to better pad out both the gameplay and the story as a whole.  I had no issue with any of these changes, until the final chapter revealed the implications of them, which I guess I’ll discuss next to get it off my chest...

SPOILERS

During the last chapter, your party is confronted by Sephiroth outside of Midgar, who then goads you into entering the “Singularity”, where you finally fight the ghostly “Whispers” who have been stalking you throughout the whole game.  These Whispers are a significant part of the new story “tweaks” that have been added, which I found annoying at first, but didn’t really mind so much as the story went on until now, because it is revealed that they are “arbiters of destiny”, whose jobs are to ensure fate plays out like its supposed to.  During your fight with them at the end of the game, after defeating each Whisper boss, the characters experience “flash forwards” to important story points in the future, such as Aerith’s death and the summoning of meteor, implying that they have more or less nullified these events now as a result of defeating “destiny”... I think.  Part of my problem with this portion of the game is Square Enix’s current “naval gazey, head-up-their-asses” story telling style is in full effect here, and I began to get Vietnam flashbacks to the completely incoherent plot of Final Fantasy XIII. 

Square Enix, it’s so simple - part of why Final Fantasy VII endures is because it’s a great story ALREADY.  By all means, give it a tweak here and there to give the characters more depth or make the story more dramatically impactful, but for the love of Jenova, please don’t tell me it’s going to turn into a philosophical shit show about the nature of destiny and fighting fate.  More importantly, Square Enix, please don’t tell me you are going to change CRITICAL plot points for shits n’ giggles or to “swerve” the audience.

For one, Aerith has to die. I love Aerith, especially his incarnation of Aerith in the Remake.  She’s so sweet and yet has a delightfully mischievous personality.  She’s absolutely perfect.  But the reason why her death still haunts fans of the game to this day is because THAT was the point in the story when shit got REAL.  The stakes were raised and Sephiroth cements himself as an evil son-of-a-bitch that must be stopped.  He doesn’t kill her just to be evil either - he kills her because she’s actively trying to foil his plans by using her white materia.  However, unbeknownst to Sephiroth, her death is what ultimately triggers the white materia to work when it needs to most.  It’s kind of like how Obi-Wan Kenobit warns Darth Vader “If you strike me down, I’ll become more powerful than you an imagine”, but in this instance it actually makes sense.

So that has to happen.  It can’t be Tifa, or Yuffie, or Cid, or Marlene, or some other swervy “gotcha” bullshit - it has to be Aerith. 

Secondly, Sephiroth must successfully summon the meteor - it’s in the fucking logo for crying out loud!  I can’t imagine what “imminent threat” for the whole world they could do instead.  Fat Chocobo gains a massive amount of weight and jumps on Midgar?  It’s baffling to imagine the developers would even *flirt* with the idea of changing these important story elements of the game, so hopefully we’ve all just hysterically misinterpreted the meaning of the last chapter.

Oh, one more thing - the final boss fight with Sephiroth was dumb too, if only because it cheapens the eventual actual final boss fight with him at the end of the game.  I liked how in the original he was basically a phantom that kept evading your party, leaving behind Jenova pieces for you to fight instead.  It’s like how in wrestling, a heel character talks tough, but then runs away when the “baby face” comes out to confront him.  Fighting Sephiroth now, not to mention beating him, kind of makes him look weak sauce.  Ohh legendary SOLDIER, my ass - I beat him at the beginning of the whole story.  To borrow from Star Wars again, it would be like Luke fighting Darth Vader in A New Hope and kicking his ass immediately.  Vader sure wouldn’t seem like much of a threat after that.

Anyway..

SPOILERS OVER

God, sorry, this review is out of control and much too long, but I have a lot to say!

Okay, so my worries above aside, the game itself is very well done.  The graphics are beautiful, despite the environment being a constant barrage of grey, industrial imagery (hey, that’s Midgar for ya).  They find ways to change things up visually, depending on what part of Midgar you’re in, such as Sector 5 having more greenery than usual (cause, you know, it’s Aerith’s home, so that makes sense!).  Wall Market, the “red light district” of Midgar, is a treat for the senses, especially at night, what with all the lights and the music playing everywhere.  It really feels like a lively, party town. 

One major change that had me, and probably a lot of FFVII purists, concerned is the combat system.  Gone is the turn based combat of old, replaced now with a more fast paced hack-n-slash style reminiscent of a From Software game than Final Fantasy (though not even as remotely as sophisticated).  However, I enjoyed the change, as this makes the battles much more engaging and fun, as opposed to the tedium that can come with turn-based combat, not to mention random encounters.  You can still use magic, items, and Limit Breaks like in the old days, so it still feels like the original, but with tweaks that make it better.

And you know, that pretty much sums up my super long review nicely - the game feels like the original but with tweaks that make it better.  Even the soundtrack is improved, which is a feat I didn’t think possible considering the original FFVII’s soundtrack is some of the best video game movie ever composed.  The Remake does a superb job of weaving in certain themes and remixing themes at appropriate points in the story.  “Aerith’s Theme” is more tear jerking than ever, while “One Chosen by the Planet” (otherwise known as Sephiroth’s theme) is even more chilling and fearsome than ever before. 

So overall, I fucking loved this game.  I rarely get emotional while playing video games, unless you consider cursing and screaming “emotional”, but damned if this one didn’t constantly give me warm and fuzzy feelings (especially whenever Tifa was onscreen - *growl*).  I’m eager to play the next part and explore more of this “new” world, despite my concern it might be “too new” in the worst ways.

[thewatermelloncat]

Concrete Can Break Like Porcelain

Summary: Here is what could happen if Arthur follows Tommy out into the field in the final scene.

Author’s Note: I just finished Season 5 today and spurted this out in a couple of hours to ease my mind. I’m open to continuing this, so if anyone has any suggestions of where this could go, let me know. Either comment ideas down below or flick me a message, I’d love to hear from you.

Warnings: SPOILERS – if you don’t want spoilers, don’t continue past this point. More warnings to come after the keep reading sign.

Warnings Continued: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE - if this could be in any way problematic for you, please don’t read this.

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Arthur was deaf to Tommy’s roar of anguish in the open field. With his brother holding a gun to his own head, Arthur didn’t have the state of mind to register the sound projecting across the field. Or have the time to be thankful that he had had enough common sense to follow him.

Tommy had been acting strange for months only for it to accelerate a few days ago when his plan had failed. It had scared Arthur enough to follow him for his own selfish reasons – that he didn’t want to drink alone after Aberama’s funeral and that he wanted to know for himself what was going through Tommy’s head.

Without a thought to whether the gun would fire Arthur pushes it away from his brother’s temple, his arms immediately wrapping over Tommy’s shoulders so that he can’t reposition the weapon. And perhaps Arthur just wants to hold onto him.

“Tommy?” his voice shakes into his brother’s shoulder. Out of breath from running across the field through the thickly veiled fog.

The gun drops onto the grass and Tommy makes to pick it back up.

“No!” Arthur grunts as he leans himself backward, hauling Tommy to stand straight. Hastily he turns him around to face him before wrapping his arms around him again. “Don’t leave me, Tommy” he begs with his voice breaking.

Within a few moments Tommy’s frame relaxes and he leans further into his brother. And when his mind strays far enough to convince itself not to pick up the gun again, he starts to ramble.

For the most part Arthur can’t understand what he says and what words he can understand he can’t make sense of. Though he lets him talk, quietly whispering his own encouragements as he leads him back to the house.

The whole way Tommy stumbles his feet, his mind elsewhere and body heavy with emotion. It’s an easy decision for Arthur to take him to the back of the house – their family doesn’t need to see him like this when hearts are already fragile.

“Almost there” Arthur tells him as they step off the gravel path and up the few stairs to the door of the lower levels.

After shouldering it open, they startle Mary who is making her way toward the kitchen.

“Mr Shelby” fear creeps into her voice as she stumbles back, surprised to see his state leaning against his brother. “Sir?”

“Find something to sedate him and bring it to his room. Do nothing else” Arthur is quick to instruct, continuing on past her. “Ya hear me?!”

“Y-yes, sir” Mary stutters putting her head down and rushing off to complete the instruction.

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Out of all Arthur’s smart decisions he thought that leading Tommy through the lesser-known staircases would be a clever tactic. Little did he know Ada would be standing on one of the balconies looking out the small window.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asks, hurrying towards Tommy’s other side to support him while he walks. Her face pinched in worry.

For a brief moment Arthur considers lying but disregards it entirely knowing that Ada would find out the truth eventually – she always did. “Put a gun to his head.”

Ada gasps and the group lurches forward as her step falters. Then her composure is restored and her face sets with a determined look as they continue to climb the stairs.

“What’s he saying?” she changes topic if just to take her mind off of what she has newly heard.

“Dunno” Arthur admits. He hasn’t had time to unpack and decipher it. “He’s repeating himself now.”

Neither of them says another word over Tommy’s mumbled rambling until they open the door of his room.

“I’ll get Polly” Ada offers as they sit their brother down on the bed.

“No, Ada” Arthur shakes his head. “She’s still up in her head over Aberama.”

“She needs to know Arthur” Ada warns him. “She’ll have our necks if we don’t tell her.”

“All right” Arthur says gruffly. “But no one else” he warns before Ada hurries off downstairs.

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As soon as Ada left the room her breath started to hitch in her throat. Struggling to hold back tears she presses a hand to each eye as she navigates her way down the stairs. She’s careful to slow her pace as she nears the living room which the rest of the family occupy.

Pausing outside the door she takes a step breath to steady herself, knowing that it is crucial for her to appear as if everything is normal. The first breath doesn’t work and so she takes another until it does.

“Polly” she calls gently as she enters the room, spotting her aunt in a chair over by the window. “Tommy had a new painting commissioned of the horse; he thinks you’d like to see it” she lies.

Thankfully her words work well enough to have her aunt move from the chair and over to her.

Even in her grieving state, as Polly nears her niece, she can see something unsettling lying behind her eyes, and her small smile seems fraudulent. “What is it?” she whispers as she and Ada step into the foyer.

The way across the room Ada doesn’t say anything. It isn’t until the two of them reach the base of the staircase that Ada swallows deeply and turns to her with a tear falling down her cheek. “It’s Tommy…”

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The door to the main bedroom crashes open, hitting the wall as Polly bursts through with Ada trailing behind her. Arthur only spares them a glance quick enough to deduce that Ada is now crying, while the rest of his attention is focused on helping Mary administer a sedative to his brother as he struggles under their grip.

When the sedative is forced down at last, the housekeeper steps back. “It won’t take full effect immediately, but it should calm him down” Mary informs, placing the empty vile on the cabinet.

Arthur nods to her and feels Tommy’s grip begin to loosen on his arm.

“Should I call for a doctor?” she offers.

“No” Arthur is quick to deny and Mary knows better than to protest.

“I may take up that offer in the morning” Polly tells her, before she turns to Ada. “Go back down stairs, this is no place for you to be” she tells her gently, knowing the environment can’t be good for the baby inside of her.

“I can’t leave Polly” Ada sobs, one hand brushing tears from her eyes and the other subconsciously resting over her stomach. “If I go down, I’ll give everything away.”

“Come with me, Mrs Thorne” Mary speaks kindly. “We’ll go down to the kitchens and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

Polly doesn’t wait for Ada to voice a protest before she directs her towards the housekeeper who places a guiding hand on her back as she leads her out of the room. Whispering reassurances about how her brother will be asleep soon.

With the two other women out of the room, Polly sighs deeply as she pulls a chair over to the bed. By the time she has sat down, Arthur has wrestled Tommy’s boots off and is working on laying him down on the bed.

“What’s he been saying?” Polly asks as she reaches forward to help settle him down. Having heard but paid no particular mind to his jumbled words.

“Barely anything I could understand” Arthur sighs as he sits on the bed next to Tommy. “Caught bits about France, Mosely, Barney… Grace. It’s mostly Grace.”

As Polly had listened to Arthur some of Tommy’s words were becoming clearer to her and she tries at gently shushing him. Hoping that he’ll settle down to rest.

“Started rambling as soon as the gun fell to the ground” Arthur adds as he looks down at his younger brother sadly.

Polly looks up at Arthur worriedly. “If you can’t be here, I can handle him on my own” she offers, given his own history.

Arthur shakes his head but says nothing for a while.

“I’ll stay” he says eventually. “He always does for me.”