#lives are being ruined and changed forever all over the fucking planet because of how awful it’s gotten

[okcoolthanks]

I’m going to fucking lose it why is it so hot

[niobiumao3]

.

Endlessly weird to me that people blame Pabu, the island and the episode, for somehow ruining the Batch.

I feel a way about this because Pabu is a) introduced to the group by unambiguously dark-skinned human characters and b) a refugee settlement. So to place the blame for the 'softening' or 'loss of coolness' of the show on that is really ugly looking. Like it just fucking is, sorry not sorry.

Acting as if without Pabu, Hunter super totally woulda been all in on rescuing Crosshair, is to pretend like the entire rest of S1 and 2 didn't happen. He was crushed by what he perceived as a complete loss of Crosshair at the end of S1 and has plainly spent a year telling himself to accept it. You can swap out Pabu with any one of a hundred other locations and the result is the same: Hunter isn't convinced Crosshair wants to come back with them, feels just as abandoned as Crosshair does. (Whether or not this is fair for either of them is a wholly different topic.)

None of that is about Pabu. Pabu is simply the place they come across--brought there by a fellow refugee who understands a need for solace and safety, even briefly--which reveals to them, like Safa Toma did for Tech specifically, that their lives CAN be something else. If you don't find that particularly interesting narratively, okay, but to blame Pabu is really a stretch. (Let's not forget, Phee is not about settling on Pabu either. She calls it a 'home away from home' for a reason. So she's not suggesting it as a forever place as it's not even that for her.)

Anyways. Kinda exhausted with this idea that 'Pabu' is somehow at fault for making the Batch not adventurous or heroic, as if any of them would never again leave the planet for a romp. Where does this weird ass idea come from, they have a spaceship! They can leave and come back at will!! Hunter being depressed and in his emotions about Tech being taken as some sort of 'because Pabu is an option' thing is weird to me. He coulda said Kashyyk. He could've said any number of other places. Pabu was just the place they were currently safest on.

Real over fandom not wanting narratives to play out, for characters to change and grow and become. That's how stories work.

[imagineyouandharry]

Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined. 

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

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Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

[mosswillow]

Alone - Dark!Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Adult content. Dark!, kidnapping, forced marriage, noncon/dubcon, oral (male receiving), violence, spit kink, Smut, Thor is mean af in this.

Summary: You’ve been hiding on earth for years after running away from an arranged marriage with Thor. What happens when fate brings him to your place of work?

A/N: This is part of the Synonyms series. You can read them as stand alones or all together. I encourage reading them in order if you want to read all of them but you do you. This is the idk fifth or sixth one I think.

Word count: 2k

All you’ve ever wanted in life is to be left alone. You ran from a life of luxury years ago, escaping from the expectations your parents and society had on you. The expectation to marry a stranger, to have his children, to spend your life in a gilded cage. You had to fight against a lifetime of brainwashing telling you that it was your place and your duty. You left in the dead of night shortly before you were to be sold off. You live on earth now, working at a bar and flirting with assholes for tips. You have your own tiny apartment and quiet life. You love it.

You hand a drink to a regular before turning to reach for another glass and pouring a beer. It’s been a busy night and it’s only just starting to slow down a little after 2am. Tomorrow is your day off and you can’t wait to catch up on sleep.

You almost don’t notice him walking in. If it weren't for his obnoxiously loud laugh you wouldn’t have looked over to the door. It’s Thor, your betrothed, the literal God you ran from. You stop working for a second before running to the back and hiding, having a mini panic attack. You didn’t think anyone was still looking for you. Sure, you knew Thor had left Asgard and now lives with the Avengers but you’ve never even come close to running into him. There’s no reason he should now be in your place of work.

“Are you ok Y/N.” Your manager says, cocking his head.

“I’m sorry boss, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Why don’t you go home, I’ll ask Amy to stay late.”

You thank him and get your coat, pulling on the hood and looking out at the room before walking quickly through the bar. You open the door and in your haste run straight into a wall of muscle. Thor grabs your shoulders and steadies you. You try to back away but his hands stay gripped to your shoulders, shaking them slightly.

“Y/N”

Fuck.

You look up into his angry eyes and give a smile.

“It’s… Thor right?”

Pain shoots through your shoulders as Thor tightens his grip.

“How did you find me?” You breathe.

“Twas luck. I walk in for a drink and there you are.”

You try to take a step back again and this time he lets you go.

“Ok, well it was good seeing you.” you say, preparing to kick ball change your way out of the state, or maybe planet.

Thor grabs hold of your wrist.

“You know I still have a claim on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”  

Thor holds you while he thinks. He reaches out to your face, cupping it in one large hand.

“It’s my right.”

You wrench your hand away and throw a punch, landing it on his jaw and sending him back several steps. He smiles and raises his hand, catching his hammer and fixing his eyes on you. You turn to run but don’t get far before he slams his hammer on the ground and you fall. Tears stream down your face as you try in vain to crawl away. He grabs you and turns you around, pinning you under him. Everything goes black as he punches you in the face.

---

The first thing you notice when waking is the metal cuff. You pull at it, crying out in rage when it doesn’t even bend. It must be made of something strong to hold you. You look around the large bedroom searching for anything that might help but find nothing. The door opens several minutes later, thor walking though it. You pull at the cuff as he slowly takes steps toward you.

“Don’t do this Thor, just let me go,” you beg.

“I’ve slept with many beautiful women,” Thor starts.

He reaches you, holding out his hand to feel the bruise on your cheek, the one he gave you.

“But none of them felt right, None of them were you.” He continues.

“No,” you cry.

“You belong to me Y/N, how dare you run away from that.”

“You’re one to talk. Where are we right now? Sure as hell not in Asgard.”

Thor’s eyes narrow as he leans in. “You know nothing of me.”

Thor gently strokes your face, moving his hand to cup your breast. He leans in to kiss you and you spit in his face, glaring at him with contempt. He backs away shocked before wiping the spit from his face.

“That’s not how this is going to go little lady, I’ll give back everything you throw at me.”

Thor grabs your jaw, pushing his thumb against the side and forcing it open. He spits into your mouth and you choke before swallowing.

“And I’ll make it ten times worse.”

“You say you had sex with lots of women but it never felt right? That’s weird because I’ve also has sex with plenty of people and you’ve never even crossed my mind. You’re just not all that memorable I guess.”

Thors entire body seems to grow as he storms across the room and grabs a key. He unlocks your hand and climbs on top of you, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. You’re used to being the strongest person in a room but now Thor holds you easily with one hand as you struggle in vain.

“I’m the only one you’ll think of again, soon you’ll be begging for me.” He says grinding against you.

He kisses you, sucking in your lip and letting it go with a pop. You flinch as he grabs your clothes and rips them off of you before tearing off his own. He flips you over with ease, pushing down between your shoulder blades and slaps your ass a few times. You cry out as he gives a sharp thrust, his cock stretching you out painfully.  

“You say no but your body betrays you…” You bring your hands to your face as he thrusts over and over. “... So wet.”

Thor lets out a husky moan as his cum pours into you. He pulls out and sits next to you on the bed, grabbing your torn shirt and cleaning himself off. You sit up, pulling the blanket over yourself and staring ahead in shock. He kisses you on the forehead and grabs your hand again, cuffing you in place.

“Just until you learn your place,” He says as he pulls his pants on and walks out of the room.

---

Thor isn’t gone for long. He comes back holding a tray of food and drinks. You reach out for a grape and he pulls the plate away, taking the grape and holding it up to your lips. You take a shaky breath, shouting at him in your mind and imagining yourself punching the smirk off his face. You open your mouth and he feeds you several pieces of fruit and cheese as you sit wordlessly on his bed, his cum still smeared all over your thighs.

“Can I use the bathroom please?” you ask.

Thor smiles and kisses your temple.

“Of course.”

He unlocks your wrist and you walk to the bathroom, relieving yourself and pulling on a bathrobe you find hanging beside the tub. You take a deep breath and throw the bathroom door open, running full speed out the door and through a hallway. Thor comes after you, yelling and cursing but you keep running full speed.

You run into a large living area where multiple Avengers sit watching tv. They all stand and run towards you, blocking your exit and you raise your fist. You recognize Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Sam Wilson staring at you, arms raised in fighting stances. Thor reaches the room as well and they surround you.

“You couldn’t have found one without super strength?” Tony asks Thor.

“I have no interest in human women.” Thor replies.

You kick Sam in the chest and he stumbles back, knocking over a lamp. Steve comes up behind you, grabbing you and you elbow him in the stomach, pulling him above you and throwing him across the room. Tony takes a step toward you but before he can throw a punch a woman comes up behind him and hits him over the head with a lamp. She stands shaking as Tony turns to her and grabs hold of her.

“Fuck, Sam get your girl before she hurts herself.”

Sam walks over to the woman, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the fight.

“No, I’m sorry Sam, please I’m so sorry.” She cries as she’s dragged away.

Thor throws a punch and you catch it but don’t see his other hand coming for your stomach. You fall to the floor coughing and he kicks you in the side.

“Jesus, Thor.” Tony says.

“Don’t underestimate her, she’s stronger than humans.” Thor says, grabbing your hands and pulling them behind you. You feel a pinch in your neck and the world goes black.

---

This time you’re not cuffed to the bed. You look around and realize that you’re in a windowless room. You push the wall, already knowing it will be made of something too strong for you to break. You walk around, opening up a dresser and rolling your eyes at the nauseatingly feminine clothing and explore a large bathroom.

“Tony helped make this for you,” Thor says, making you jump.

“Tell him fuck you for me.” you sneer.

Thor sighs and leans against the bathroom door frame.

“You won’t be getting out of here.”

You push past him and to the door finding it open. Behind the door is a small hallway and then a second door with a second keypad. Smart.

“It’s not forever. We’ve already found several incentives to help you feel more comfortable here.”

You turn to Thor and raise your eyebrow.

“How much do you care about the little bar you worked at?”

The implication sinks in.

“You would ruin innocent people's lives just to keep me here?”

“Darling, I’d do much worse than that.”

Thor pulls you by the waist to the bed, sitting down at the edge and pushing down on your shoulders until you kneel. He puts his hand under your chin.

“Open up baby.”

You clench your jaw.

“You will lose this game.” he says, gently coaxing at your jaw.

“Leave me alone!” you scream, tears falling in earnest.

Thor grabs the back of your neck, pushing you to the bed. He gets close to your ear.

“You want to be left alone dear? Ok, I’ll give you what you want. Call for me when you’re ready to behave.”

You hear both doors close and lock and scramble into the bed, folding yourself up into the fetal position under the blanket. You let yourself cry for hours before falling asleep.

---

You sit in your windowless room, knees pulled up to your chest and tears stains down your cheeks. You’re not sure how long you’ve been isolated at this point. You haven't eaten in days and feel weak, both physically and mentally. Screaming sounds stream into the room in random intervals so you’re always on edge and unable to sleep more than twenty minutes at a time. Every time you get out of the bed all the lights turn off forcing you to stumble in the dark.

Thor can punch and kick you, breaking and bruising you until the pain seeps into your bones. You’ll get up each and every time ready to fight. This however, this is so effective that it makes you miss him, it makes you want to cry in his arms and beg him to save you. You close your eyes and shed one more tear before calling his name. He walks in minutes later, approaching you and gently grabbing your jaw, his intentions clear. You open your mouth and close your eyes as he pushes his dick in, fucking your throat until he comes. He pulls you into his lap after, placing a blanket over you and holding you close.

You clutch on to Thor like he might disappear if you let go.

“Please don’t leave, I’m so tired.” you cry.

“Shhh, it’s ok baby, you can sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You shake in his arms, slowly falling asleep despite the anxiety that fills every inch of you. He did this to you, made you terrified of the very thing you’ve always wanted.

To be left alone.

[gouged-out-eyes]

Sacred Part 2

Summary: Tusk has made his decision, something that changes both his and Chloe’s lives forever. 

Pairing: Yautja x human OC

Warnings: Some violence, shitty Yautja anatomy descriptions, some fighting, a little blood, smut

A/N: OMG I did it. I finished part 2. I’ve literally been working on this since I wrote Part 1 like three months ago. My muse bit me in the ass and here we are. BONUS: extra love to whomever can figure out the ending....

Part 1| Masterlist|

Tarei’hsan frantically presses buttons on the console, the ship shuddering as shots are fired at them. Chloe is safely tucked away in a pod, strapped in and ready in case things go wrong. The coordinates are set, ready to send her to the nearest oxygen-based planet. All he has to do is press a button.

He weaves the ship, dodging fire as he attempts to start a jump. He needs to get as far from there as he can, his ship only capable of taking so much fire. Things had not gone as he’d hoped. He had thought they were in empty space, but it appeared there were others in the area.

He had abandoned the idea of returning to his Clan Ship. There was a chance they would be killed on sight. There was a chance they would kill Chloe and make him watch. There was a chance she would be hated for her entire time there, shunned by the males and scorned by the females. He couldn’t put her through that. So he had changed course, cut the ties with his clan, and sent the ship off to empty space where he would have time to figure out where they were going to go.

But then she’d come in, smelling like sweet meat, clean and musky and he’d completely lost control. He’d mated with her, lost himself in her. He’d let his guard down and now they were being pursued by another spacecraft. He had sent the ship right into a trap and now he was paying the price.

He curses, steering away from another blast. The ship was almost ready, vibrating from the force of the damage and the power needed to make such a big jump. It was the safest place he knew for both of them and their best bet on a place to lay low for a while.

The wormhole opens in front of him, his ship jumping through, thankfully closing before the other ship can follow. He slows his ship down, preparing to enter the atmosphere of the planet before him. He keeps Chloe stored away, wanting to be ready for anything. She would forgive him later, he’s sure of it.

He lands on the planet, kicking up dust as he sets the ship down roughly. He runs a scan, pulling up everything that’s damaged. He’d need to do repairs before they did any more serious traveling. He makes sure the cloaking is on before he leaves the pilot’s seat, heading back towards the pods. He opens the pod, catching Chloe as she slides out. It would be a few minutes before she would wake up, so he returns to the pilot’s seat, holding her in his arms.

She’s soft and warm against him, and he can’t help but remember how she’d felt wrapped around him, tight and wet. He’d let her dominate him, let her take control. He’d wanted to fuck her like a female but he knew she was more fragile, more delicate than the females of his kind. He didn’t want to risk hurting her. She’d been so receptive to him, the sounds she’d made, the way she shivered when he touched her. He can feel himself getting hard again and pushes the thoughts away. That was for later.

Right now, he needed to find them someplace to stay, someplace to lay low.

Chloe starts to shift in his arms, groaning a little as she stretches. He purrs quietly to her, smoothing a hand down her back. She groans again, nuzzling closer to his chest. He stares down at her for a moment, tracing her features with his eyes. Yautja don’t define beauty in the same way humans do. Yautja don’t have a concept of beauty at all. Strength, power, hunting, and fighting abilities. Those were things Yautja took into consideration when looking for mates. But this small ooman, pathetically weak compared to him, had warped his ideals. She had wormed her way into his mind, into his heart, and changed him. But he had been the one to let it happen, too. He had let her worm her way in, twist him inside, change him. He liked it.

He leans back in his seat, cradling his tiny ooman in his arms. His clan may not agree, may not accept her, but he was willing to let it all go, leave it all behind for the sake of his ooman. His Yeyinde.

Chloe starts to stir again, Tarei’hsan’s helmet picking up her rising heart rate and her quickened breaths. He doesn’t loosen his hold, staring down at her as her eyes flutter then open. She frowns for a moment, looking around, her body tensing slightly.

“Tusk.” She says, her voice groggy and rough.

He purrs in reply, shifting her slightly to free one of his arms, reaching out a clawed finger to brush a stray hair from her eyes. He lets the claw trace lightly down the side of her face, watching her struggle to come out of the drugged sleep she had been forced into. He had given her half a dose, knowing her biology was different, and regardless of his blood running through her system, he could have easily killed her with a full dose.

“What...happen...”

“Attack.” He says, searching for the words in his database. “Hostile ship.”

“Where are we now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Safe.”

She groans, laying her face against the armor on his shoulder. He continues to hold her, hoping he did the right thing. Hoping he made the right decision. He was forever an outcast, leaving his clan, his family behind, all for this tiny, fragile human in his arms. Was she worth all of it?

Yes.

He could start his own family, his own clan. He had heard of it being done. Bad Bloods did it all the time. He would be his own leader now.

********

Chloe rubs at her eyes, bare feet kicking up sand as she follows close behind Tusk. She was still groggy and disoriented, but Tusk had told her that would wear off soon. She pulls the blanket tighter around her, picking up her pace so she doesn’t get lost behind the long strides of her alien companion.

She hadn’t gotten much out of him, not that she had asked much to begin with. Wherever they had ended up, he had deemed it safe enough for them, at least for the time being. Chloe starts to get flashbacks to the time she’d watched Star Wars, being reminded of it as they enter the metal building. It wasn’t enough that she was being reminded of it, she’s living it. She was on an alien planet in outer space. Obviously one that was heavily trafficked, as the many ships sitting outside had told her.

She keeps her head down, a blanket covering her as she sticks close to Tusk nearly pressed up against his back. He’s speaking with someone she can’t see, not that she really wants to. It was enough of a shock to register the fact she wasn’t on Earth anymore, let alone the fact she was with an alien...an alien she had fucked...to try and wrap her brain around the fact there were more aliens around her. They were all aliens to her. Or was she the alien?

Chloe grips the back of Tusk’s belt as he speaks with someone, pressing up against his warmth. It had been warm outside, but the metal floor is cold against her bare feet. Thankfully no one seems to pay them any mind, giving them a wide berth in fact. Perhaps it was the nature of her companion. Or maybe that was just alien etiquette.

She’s pulled along as Tusk begins to move, making his way through crowds of creatures. Chloe keeps her head down, holding onto Tusk as he weaves his way towards a staircase, heading up. She nearly runs into his back when he stops, heading down a hallway before opening a door. She’s ushered inside before he closes the door, the airlock hissing. She pulls the blanket down so it’s wrapped around her shoulders, looking up at him. He’s at the small window, glancing out. Chloe takes a moment to look around the room, taking it in.

Had she not known she was on a different planet, she would have guessed she was in some sort of strange hotel. Maybe something one would find in Roswell or the Southwest. The entire room is metal, giving it a very futuristic look despite the obvious wear and tear. There’s what seems to be a bed in the corner, and a desk in another. There’s a door next to the bed, what she assumes leads to the bathroom. What she hopes leads to the bathroom.

Tusk moves from the window finally, making his way towards her. She looks up at him, craning her head to see him as he stops inches from her. He lifts his hand, clawed fingers tracing over her cheek before his palm presses against her skin. She leans into his touch, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“What happens now?” She asks, lips brushing the rough skin of his palm.

“Stay until safe.” He says through his helmet, claws running through her hair gently. “Then...I don’t know.”

She opens her eyes, looking up at him. “We’re not going to your clan are we?”

He shakes his head. “Too many...risks. Not...worth it.”

Chloe frowns slightly, pulling away from him and sitting on the bed. He watches her, mandibles clicking in confusion.

“I can’t help but feel this is partially my fault. Actually, it is all my fault. I’m the reason you can’t go back to your family. Your clan. You did all this for me and now you can’t ever see them again.” Chloe runs a hand through her hair tugging on it slightly. “Your entire life is ruined because of me.

The hand on her shoulder startles her. She had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t even noticed him move close to her. Her back hits the mattress with a hard thump, nearly knocking the wind out of her. It’s not as soft as she’s used to, not even the pile of furs she’d been sleeping on the past few days weren’t as firm as this mattress. Despite its firmness it still dips as he climbs on, heavy weight denting the firm substance.

She can feel the warmth of him as he kneels over her, caging her in under his body. He lowers himself down, holding himself up on his elbows. His mask is nearly touching her face, close enough she can see the roughness of the metal, the divots and impurities in it.

They lay like that for a few moments, breathing in each other’s air before a single word is uttered.

“No.”

Chloe stares into the eyes of the helmet, lips parted slightly as she breathes in the slightly musky scent coming off him. She feels exposed suddenly, the blanket had fallen open. She had been forced to dress in her dirty clothes, her torn pants and the tank top she’d worn under her layers on Earth. The room is cold, making her aware of her lack of bra but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeyinde.” He breathes out, shifting ever so slightly over her. “Worth it.”

Chloe bites back tears at his words. They were simple but she could understand. He wouldn’t have risked taking her on his ship in the first place, he would have left her to die in the cold on Earth if he hadn’t thought she was worth it. He wouldn’t have risked his entire life, he wouldn’t have saved her. He wouldn’t have let himself be so vulnerable with her...he wouldn’t have been so gentle with her had he not thought her worth it. He hadn’t left his family, his clan because he felt like he had to. He was doing this because he thought she was worth it. He was putting her above everything he knew.

He pushes himself up, kneeling over her on the bed. Chloe chases him, pulling herself up so she’s kneeling as well, only putting her about eye level with his chest. She puts her hands on his shoulders, bringing herself up to press her lips against the metal of his helmet. He tenses slightly under her hands, but she moves back before he gets too uncomfortable.

“I understand now.” She says, sitting back on her heels. “Besides, we don’t need them. We can be our own clan.”

***********

It’s dark out when Tusk returns to the room. Chloe is wrapped up under layers of blankets, trying to get warm. It was warm on the planet during the day, but the nights were something else. Chloe had her back to the door, not wanting to move out of the warm spot she’d created. She knew Tusk would be disappointed in her lack of awareness, of her lack of self-defense, but she was tired and finally starting to get warm.

She hears the familiar hiss of air as he removes his helmet, setting it on the desk with a clunk. A few more clunks follow, meaning he had stripped off his armor. The bed dips as he settles on it, cold air meeting her skin as he slips under the blankets. She instantly rolls back against him, seeking out his warmth. She can feel the wire netting against his chest, pulsing out warmth under the blankets. She sighs contently, her sigh being met with a purr. She smiles softly to herself, a thick arm wrapping around her stomach, pulling her tighter against the solid body behind her, mandibles twitching in her hair. She feels small like this, his sheer size evident in moments like this. She’d been close to him, closer than this. She’d seen more of him than she ever thought she would when she first woke up in his ship. They’d shared an extremely intimate moment, one she wasn’t even sure the cultural meaning of to him completely, and to be totally honest, she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

But not right now.

She’s tired, the last of the drugs he’d used to knock her out wearing off, leaving her feeling exhausted despite the fact they’d put her to sleep. Despite the unknowns, more on her part than even his, she feels safe and comfortable in his arms. She knows he’ll take care of them both. He had so far.

********

The clothes help infinitely. Chloe’s not sure where they’d come from, or how they look perfect for humans, or even how he’d gotten the right size, but they fit almost perfectly and they’re extremely warm. She could gauge enough from his silent emotion and his posture he still wasn’t comfortable with her leaving the room yet, but at least he remembered to feed her and he had tried to make her as warm as he could. It seemed aliens were more adapted to the chill of space, and so most outposts like this were colder than humans were used to. It made sense to her. It wasn’t like humans were exactly traveling out this far. They weren’t adapted to this kind of life. She was the first, and no one even knew it.

It made her feel slightly melancholy. She did miss Earth. There were things she had hated, but it was still her home. She hadn’t left much behind, but her exit had been unexpected and the reality of her situation hadn’t hit her during her blissful time on the ship. But it wasn’t like she could convince him to go back. From what she could garner, his kind visited Earth fairly consistently and so going back would be a risk. It would be easier to track them. This was her life now.

He was her life now.

*******

“What are you doing?” Chloe asks him one day. She figures they’ve been there about a week now, as far as days go on the planet.

“Fix ship.” He says, messing with something electronic on the floor of their room. Chloe couldn’t even begin to tell you what it was or what it did. “Damaged.”

“From the other ship?”

All she gets is a grunt in reply.

“Was...was it your kind...that attacked?”

He shakes his head, locks swaying back and forth. “No.”

“Oh.” Chloe looks down at her hands. “Can...can I do anything to help?”

“No.”

Chloe bites her lip, pulling her knees to her chest. She can’t help but start to feel bored. She had absolutely nothing to do. She was stuck in their room all day, every day. The only excitement she had was his coming and going and their mealtimes. She needed something to do. Some entertainment. Anything.

That’s why she decides to leave the room one day when he’s out. She knows she shouldn’t, she knows she’s entirely alien to everyone that could possibly be in the outpost. She knows it’s dangerous, but she’s tired of being cooped up and bored. So, she leaves the room when he’s out fixing the ship.

She slowly makes her way down the steps, entering the lobby of sorts. There are creatures her mind couldn’t fathom sitting around. It was more like a bar than a lobby, really. She’s utterly fascinated by the completely different world, taking in everything she can.

She’s drawn to where groups of creatures are sitting around tables, playing what looks like Craps, but she can’t discern anything else. She leans against the side of the table, watching them curiously. None of them give her more than a glance, Chloe trying to work out the rules and point of the game on next to nothing as far as information goes.

After a couple of rounds, the creature next to her sets the dice in front of her, giving her a look. She doesn't need to speak the language to understand what that look means. She’s reaching for the dice before she can really think it through, but she’s stopped when a clawed hand wraps around the back of her shirt, yanking her away from the table. Her feet slide on the floor as she’s dragged towards the stairs, Tusk’s nails cutting into the skin on the back of her neck.

He’s angry. She can hear the angry trills and growls from his chest as they move away from the lounge area and back towards their room. Her feet leave the floor as she’s quite literally tossed into the room, hitting the metal floor hard. She coughs, the wind knocked from her lungs at the impact. It jars her, but not quite as much as the seething Yautja across the room.

Chloe jumps as his helmet hits the floor with a loud thud. She’s shaking, she realizes as she props herself up on her hands, staring at the angry alien. His eyes are filled with rage, glaring yellow slits at her. His mandibles are flared wide, fists clenched.

“Ooman stay.” He growls out, pacing back and forth.

“I was bored.” Chloe tries to defend herself. “I have nothing to do.”

“Dangerous. Ooman not know.”

“You won’t tell me anything! How am I supposed to know when you won’t tell me anything?” Her voice is rising, pushing herself up to her knees. Her side is sore where she hit the floor. She knew he was strong, but she hadn’t ever pictured the strength being used against her. She had herself convinced he wouldn’t hurt her. But he was still an alien. Had she made a mistake in thinking that of him?

“Ooman stay safe. Ooman do as told.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Chloe says, feeling childish but she’s so angry and tired she can’t help but fight back. “I didn’t ask you to take me. I didn’t ask to be with you. I didn’t ask you to leave everything behind for me. I didn’t ask you to-”

A loud roar shocks her into silence. It’s louder than she’s ever heard from him, her ears ringing at the sound. She can’t help but fall back at his roar, backing up in fear. The sound is primal, dangerous, awakening some prey instinct in her that has her making herself as small as she can in the far corner of the room.

He’s standing there, eyes wide in anger, mandibles splayed. Chloe hadn’t felt this afraid of the one she’d met on Earth. She hadn’t ever felt this afraid before.

He stops roaring, glaring at her for a moment before bending to pick up his helmet, leaving the room with a slam of the door. Chloe curls up tighter in the corner of the room, burying her face in her arms.

**********

Chloe sleeps alone on the alien planet that night. She hadn’t seen Tusk since their argument and part of her is afraid he had left her. Abandoned her on this planet in his anger. She had just been bored. She hadn’t known anything. She didn’t know anything about the galaxy or other planets or the life on them. A few weeks ago she hadn’t even known life existed outside of Earth. Of course, there had been the “sightings” and the people who were convinced, but she had always been skeptical. Skeptical until proven real. That was her mantra.

But aliens were real. She was on some distant planet Earth probably didn’t even know about yet, crying over a fight with an alien species Earth also didn't know about. It was all very real, and here she was, crying after a childish argument with a species that could probably tear her in half with his bare hands. Who was she to think she could make decisions like that. Act stupidly in a place she was totally ignorant of? She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Tusk doesn’t come back. If he really did abandon her here. She really doesn’t know.

*********

Tusk can’t sleep.

He’s staring up at the three moons in the sky from the pilot seat of his ship. He had been so afraid...so worried when he’d spotted her in the lounge at the table. He had told her to stay in the room. He had told her it wasn’t safe and she had acted like a pup and defied him.

But her face when he had roared. The...fear in her eyes.

He feels a sick twisting in his stomach as he replays the moment in his memory over and over. It was a side of him he hoped she would never have to see. A side he never wanted to direct towards her. She was fragile, small. His little ooman and he had roared at her like...like an animal. He hadn’t meant it. He was blinded by his anger. He had lost his temper like a fiery Young Blood. He wouldn’t ever hurt her. Not his little Yeyinde.

And now here he was, sulking in his ship while she was alone.

He gets up, heading back into the outpost and up to their room. It’s dark inside but he can see her, curled up in the bed. She’s asleep, her breathing soft and even. He sets his helmet quietly on the table, getting rid of most of his armor as well before climbing into the bed next to her. She doesn’t wake, but she does shift closer to him. He runs a hand down her arm, feeling the softness of her skin, how delicate it is. He can smell the dried blood on her neck from where his claws had cut into her when he’d grabbed her. He feels the twisting in his gut again, moving his head to lick at the wounds.

He purrs quietly, tongue tasting the metallic blood. She stirs slightly, letting out a quiet groan.

“Tusk?” Her voice is thick with sleep, hand rubbing at her eyes.

He lets out a louder purr, nipping softly at her shoulder. She rolls back over, settling into sleep again, Tusk wrapping himself around her tightly, holding onto her determined not to let go.

**********

Chloe wakes up warm and comfortable. Her head is moving slightly, up and down in a smooth pattern. She would have been convinced she was on a boat if the past day’s events weren’t flashing through her head.

She moves slightly, lifting her head so she can look up at him. His eyes are closed, face relaxed as he sleeps. Chloe wants to move away from him but she’s stuck to his side by the arm around her waist. Her leg is thrown over his, body pressed tight against his side. She rests her chin on his chest, fingers tracing the mottled pattern of his skin. She doesn't remember him coming back, doesn’t even remember him joining her in bed.

She can’t help but remember the day before. The anger in his eyes, the roar. She’ll always remember that roar. More so that it was directed at her. But staring at him now while he’s sleeping, it’s hard to picture him as that fearsome predator she had seen yesterday. He’s still fearsome, but there’s a softness about him in his sleep. This is the Tusk she knew.

She looks back up at his eyes, finding them open and staring at her. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t realized he had woken up. Hadn’t felt the change in his breathing. He stares at her with his yellow eyes, all signs of anger and malice gone. Her wandering hand is almost at his jaw now, her fingers wrapping around one of his locks. He lets out a trill and suddenly she finds herself laying on top of him.

“You scared me.” She says quietly, running her fingers over his lock, feeling the texture of it. “I thought...maybe...”

A purr rumbles through his body and into hers, vibrating every inch of her. His hand is splayed on her back, the other tracing the skin on the back of her thigh. “No hurt Yeyinde.”

Chloe lowers her gaze for a moment before looking back up at him. His hand has drifted down her back, splayed out on her lower back now. She can feel his heart thumping in his chest, an unusual rhythm to what she’s used to, but it’s become comforting to her now. She wraps her hand around his lock, tugging on it lightly. His body jerks under hers, hips shifting slightly. She gets a mischievous glint in her eye, tangling a hand in his locks before tugging hard.

He lets out a roar, but this one is different than the one he’d made yesterday. She’s familiar with this roar, having heard it before. She tugs again and he’s sitting up, her body dropping the few inches into his lap. Her shirt is history, claws leaving light lines on her skin as he rids her of the fabric, hands sliding up her sides. His nails brush against her nipples, making her shiver. He does it again, her body starting to flush in response.

He leans down close to her but her hand in his locks stops him. He stares at her with a question in his eyes.

“No.” She says, tugging on his locks again, his breath fanning over her face in a huff at the motion.

She stands up on the bed, standing over him, and for a moment he wonders if she’s changed her mind, or it wasn’t what she wanted in the first place. But the moment her knee hits his chest, attempting to shove him back onto the bed he understands. Her hand yanks his head back as he grabs her leg, his other hand pushing against her back. She tugs his locks again as he flips her, easily overpowering her in this fight as she winds up on her stomach on the bed.

He’s faster than she is, somehow having removed his loincloth in the time between when she’d hit him and when she’d been flipped. His hand presses between her shoulders, her head turning so she can still breathe. Her pants are yanked down, hips being lifted and rested on something soft. She goes limp as he positions her, taking a moment to make sure she’s comfortable before his hand is between her legs.

She’s already wet, slick and warm against his fingers. A breathy moan leaves her lips as he brushes over her clit, hips jerking slightly to chase his fingers. He purrs deeply, the head of his length replacing his fingers, running it along her slit. Her blatant displays of aggression towards him, along with her hand in his locks, had pushed him over the edge, his length straining against his loincloth painfully until he had released it. He was well versed in doing this quickly, having to tame several females who had fought him for dominance in bed. But she wasn’t a Yautja female. She had given over quickly, and he had made sure to be gentle with her. She had known she wouldn’t win against him, her actions were solely to rile him up.

He’s not as gentle this time, offering her no preparation as he begins to press himself inside her. A low whine leaves her lips at the stretch, her body having forgotten already what it was like. He seemed bigger than before, her body stretching, trying to fit him in.

She’s glad the pillows are holding her hips up, her legs already shaking by the time he’s seated as far as he can go. His own breathing is labored, mandibles flared at the sensation of her tight, wet heat. He begins to move his hips, fighting the resistance of her body as he pumps himself in and out of her. She’s slowly relaxing, hands gripping the blankets on the bed, the most endearing sounds leaving her lips.

He snaps his hips into hers, her body jerking in response. Her eyes roll closed, a high pitched moan leaving her lips. His mandibles click together in a laugh, repeating the action. She tightens around him even more, a deep growl leaving him in response. He picks up speed quickly, thrusting in and out of her hard. He folds his body over hers, hands resting near her head as he mates her the Yautja way. The sound is wet, along with skin slapping skin and their moans and growls.

He leans down, shifting his hips slightly as his mandibles trace along her face, tongue tasting the sweat on her skin. She grips the blankets tighter, squeezing impossibly tight around him, ooman words spilling from her lips before she goes silent for a moment. A long, keening whine leaves her then, eyelashes fluttering. She’s squeezing him, fluttering around him. He growls, hands gripping her hips as he picks up speed even more, thrusting harder and harder into her.

His hips still, head rearing back as he lets out a roar, length pulsing as he releases inside of her. Pleasure tingles through him, traveling along his spine into his stomach and through his length. His little ooman is whimpering at the sensation, legs trembling still from her own release.

He pulls out of her, sitting back and watching as their mixed fluids drip from inside of her. He leans down close to her, letting his tongue run the length of her slit. Her hips jerk in response, her back arching slightly. She’s tangy on his tongue, mixed with his musky flavor. He finds he likes the taste, pressing back in for more.

**********

Chloe can barely leave the bed for a week. She had complained about being bored and having nothing to do, but she hadn’t quite had this in mind when she had said that. Tusk had become relentless, every moment he wasn’t fixing the ship, feeding her, or sleeping he was between her legs. He let her take the lead sometimes, but others he was ruthlessly fucking into her, leaving her with bruises and scratches. She can’t exactly complain, though. For all of their differences, he at least knew how to be a decent lover. She’d lost count of the time she’d cum from him.

But thankfully he seems to be slowing down, spending more and more time fixing the ship, meaning it was close to being done. Perhaps that meant they would be leaving soon. Where they were going to go, however, she hadn’t gotten an answer. Perhaps because Tusk didn’t know either.

She’s also thankful he’s gone more because she’s started to feel sick. She was eating less, none of the foods he brought seeming to be appetizing to her anymore. She had managed to stomach most of them before, but it seemed like she had lost all taste from them. Her mind comes back to the stories she’d read about alien diseases, bacteria and microscopic lifeforms brought back from space destroying humanity. Could she have gotten some sort of space parasite suddenly? Had that been why he’d been so adamant about her staying in the room?

Chloe rests her head on the edge of the toilet seat, or what she calls the toilet seat, wiping some of the sweat from her brow. She’d puked up breakfast again, thankfully Tusk gone from the room so he wouldn’t be worried. She felt fine otherwise, just nauseous and tired.

She washes her hands, splashing water on her face before going back to the room. She’s barely sat on the bed when Tusk comes into the room, leaving the door open for a change.

“Come. We leave now.”

“Now?” Chloe asks, watching Tusk grab the few things they had accumulated during their stay.

“Yes. We go now.”

Before she knows it she’s back on the ship, tucked safely in Tusk’s bed as he takes off. Her stomach lurches as they leave the planet, threatening to bring up the nonexistent food left. She lays there, thinking for a moment when it suddenly hits her. Her stomach drops as the ship rocks as they leave the atmosphere, eyes wide as she calculates the numbers in her head. She didn’t know exactly, but from what she could figure out, it had to be true.

She rises out of bed, making her way from his room towards the control deck. She doesn't get that far, however, Tusk meeting her halfway.

“Yeyinde.” He says, pausing mid-step.

“Tusk, I need to talk to you. I want to know where we’re going.”

“Somewhere safe.” He says, moving past her.

“Tusk, please, tell me.” She turns to him, watching him go with a sigh. “Tarei’hsan.”

He stops at her attempted pronunciation of his real name. He turns slowly to face her, shoulders tensed. She approaches him, staring up at his face through the helmet.

“Tusk, I’m...” She bites her lip. She’s not sure if the word will translate correctly or even have a meaning to him. So instead she grabs his hand, putting it over her stomach. “Pup.”

He stares down at his hand for a long time, her small one covering his where it’s resting over her stomach. He rapidly switches through signatures on his helmet, finding the small zygote resting in her body every time. It’s faint and barely there, but he can see it.

**********

EPILOGUE: 40 years later

Chloe steps out of the hut as the ship lands in the clearing. The other members of their clan, cast outs and loners like them stepping out as well. They had been gone for weeks now, something Chloe had gotten used to after Naugui was born. Tusk had been adamant about raising him the Yautja way. Chloe had no problem with that, after all, Naugui took after his father in every way. An outsider would have questioned whether he was Chloe’s son, but he knew, and so did his parents. Chloe had nearly died birthing him herself, and it was something she would never forget.

She pulls her greying hair back, tying it up from her face as Naugui and Tusk step out of the ship. Tusk had managed to keep himself connected to other Yautja clans without them knowing, secretly spying on them since he left. There had been talk recently, worrying talk. There had been word of an invasion on Earth spreading through some of the clans. Tusk and Naugui had gone to see if it was true.

Chloe can tell by their body language when they approach her what the answer is.

“What do we do?” Chloe asks, wrapping her arms around Naugui.

“We can do nothing,” Tusk says, cupping her face.

“Earth was my home once. To think it could be gone...wiped out...” She chews on her lip, Naugui pulling away from her slightly.

“The armor.” He says, looking to Tusk. “If it can get to Earth...”

“No.” Tusk says. “It’s too risky.”

“They need a chance to defend themselves. Oomans are part of me. If I can give them a chance, I will take it.”

Tusk lets out a breath Chloe understands the meaning of. She turns back to her son, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She knows the risk well. She’d heard first hand the whispers. Being the clan leader’s wife she knew everything he did. If Naugui did this, there was a strong chance he would not be coming back. But that was the Yautja way. It was a risk they took on every hunt. A fear they faced unflinchingly.

“Do your best, son,” Chloe says, cupping his cheek through his helmet.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before standing up straight. Chloe watches him walk to the ship, leaning against Tusks’ side, ruminating on the fact this could be the last time she sees her son.

[lenaluvher]

So my thoughts

1. They turned Alex into a disgusting jerk who had the fucking nerve to blame Kara for what happened to Esme. They completely screwed over Chyler with horrid writing. I’m willing to bet Chyler cringed when she read her lines. When Lena was willing to let millions of people be changed into phantoms just to save Kara, and Alex wouldn’t let her, because you know it was wrong to put millions of people’s lives above Kara’s. LMAO only to turn around act like a complete DICK WAD to Kara, and was willing to allow the world to get destroyed by Nxly, so that she could get a little girl that she’s known all of 3 weeks back. I don’t give 2 shits if she went back to being the old Alex, when she got Esme back. Her character to me will always be a complete ASS WIPE forever..............so yeah the POS writers ruined ALEX. 

2. They have been RUINING Supergirl for years now. They made her this feeble women who constantly NEEDS saving by either Lena or Mon El. It’s disgusting and I’ve never seen SHOWRUNNERS AND WRITERS actively DESPISE their own lead character on the show. Supergirl once beat up Superman, and now she’s nothing but a shell of her former self, and I am thoroughly disgusted. I think it’s a good thing that she has put away the cape, because quite frankly just like she said she is the weakest person on the planet.

3. The writers, showrunners, and CW Executives CAN SUCK IT...............you are all horrible people for the over the top queerbaiting. Kara by the end of episode 20 must have called Lena her friend several times, and I took it as a big huge 2 middle fingers in Supercorps faces. 

4. It’s good that they killed off Lillian she’s a complete menace, and would have caused more trouble in the future, and or tried to get Lex out of the PZ.

5. Everyone else gets their romantic happy ending except Kara and Lena. Even Jonn gets Mcgann back at some point........but poor ol Kara and Lena. 

6. Did I mention how horrid the writing has been since season 2, and how they completely destroyed Supergirl for me?

7. At least Mon El and Kara didn’t go blissfully off into the future together and the Karamel shippers got ripped off too. The Supergirl show and the writers made sure that everyone got SHIT ON.

8. I’m glad Nia got Brainy back but so now the big brain will sometime in the future cease to exist? I can’t tell you just how stupid this shit is. They put brainy and Nia through hell for two episodes thinking that they had to part ways, only to turn around and have brainy give a big FUCK YOU to the big brain that will die sometime in the future along with every members of Brainy’s race???? Like why the hell did they even go there talk about stupid!!!!

Okay well that’s it and all I can say is that I am so glad this STUPID LAME SHOW IS DONE. I knew by the end of episode 14 that they weren’t going to put Supercorp as a romantic canon, and I stuck with that.....I feel vindicated that I was right, but still pissed over the gross horrid queerbaiting for years. Although I didn’t waste years on this show. I only started watching at the beginning of season 5, and I binged watched all the other seasons. Season 1 was truly the best Season, even if it didn’t have Lena in it. It’s been nice interacting with some people here I enjoyed it especially you @leighlew3. You seemed to be one of the only few people here with the voice of reason so thank you. Perhaps I will see some of you with future new ships we’ll see. As for me I am done with the CW for good. They screwed me over with CLEXA, and Supergirl. Those fucking losers will never do that to me again. I just hope many people here realize that giving the CW any publicity on Twitter with their shows is counter productive for the LGBT community. The CW doesn’t not deserve your support so please think twice about giving it to them.

[krreader]

tears of gold.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; no happy ending genre: angst word count: 1.9k+

summary: one moment. one decision. that’s all it took to ruin his future. yoongi always thought that if that ever happened it would have something to do with his career.. but no.. his career was fine. the rest of his life was what was broken now.

a/n: idk man, every time it’s a vague angst request like this I go off. not sure if that’s good or bad lol. anyways, I really hope you like it bb. (+ title inspired by this beauty)

Despite him sitting right next to you on the bed, you've never felt more alone in your life than right now.

Despite him having told you that he loved you just last night, you've never felt more unloved than right now.

Despite him wanting you to trust him completely, you've never felt more backstabbed by him than right now.

“You have to understand me, (Y/N),” is what he said, like that's what would make any of this any better, “How am I supposed to do this right now? Or.. anytime soon? I'm going on tour in less than a month and won't be back for a while and then when I'm finally back, I'll maybe have a break for a week or two before going back to work. How do you.. expect me to..-” Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh and put his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

You haven't said a word during all this, just looked at him in disbelief, disappointment, frustration.. sadness.

This wasn't how you had imagined your life to go either, this wasn't on your agenda anytime soon either, but it had happened and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Both of you.

The positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands was the proof of that.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said again and straightened his back as he shook his head, “I can't do it.”

The chances of becoming pregnant when taking the pill perfectly were so slim.. so why did it have to happen to him and you? Why did it have to happen to someone who really couldn't handle a child right now, who couldn't be a father and.. quite frankly.. didn't want to be a father right now.

But Yoongi was selfish in this moment and he didn't even realize it.

All he thought about was the child and himself.

He not once thought about you. About what this meant for you.

Because he wasn't the only one with a career.

You had worked your ass off these last years to achieve your goals and dreams and were finally at a point in life that you were happy with.. well.. everything. A stable job, a stable – or at least you thought – relationship and amazing chances of your life getting even better with the years to come.

But none of that seemed to matter to him, in that moment, he only cared about himself.

Suddenly, he got up and wanted to make his way out of your bedroom like it was easy for him to walk away from this.

However, he stopped when you finally spoke, for the first time since you told him you were expecting his baby.

“You walk out of this door, Yoongi, I'm never going to give you a second chance. You leave me alone with this child and I promise you, you will never be a father for this baby,” your hands trembled, but your voice was firm because you meant it. You were scared shitless, but you’d rather be raising this child on your own than with someone who didn’t want it in the first place.

You had hoped this little speech might change his mind.. after all, you've been with each other for almost four years now and he had more often than not told you that he wanted this to last forever.

But the idea of a child right then and there scared him so much that he just ignored your words, maybe even thought you weren’t serious, but god, you were.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated once again, looking at you from over his shoulder, “I really am,” his voice broke.

And then he left.

And all you could do was stare after the closed door before you completely broke down, allowing yourself to be vulnerable once he was gone and lying back down on your bed, clutching the pregnancy test against your chest while tears streamed down your cheek.

You were alone in this.

Completely and utterly alone.

And that scared the living shit out of you, even if you wanted and tried to be strong.

Single mother before the baby was even born.. wonderful.

Yoongi watched the rain drops run down the window of the car as they were driving to the venue, his fingertips tracing them like he was mesmerized by them, lost in his own little world in that moment

“So, hyung,” Jimin said with a huge smile, leaning forward a little to talk to the driver, “I heard your wife had her baby?”

Yoongi instantly looked up, ripped from his daydream when he heard that sentence.

“Yeah,” the driver grinned happily from ear to ear, like he was the proudest man on this planet. It hurt Yoongi. Badly, “It's a girl! Can you believe it? I have a baby girl now!”

Everyone in the car congratulated him, told him how happy they were for him..

..all but Yoongi.

He could just stare at the driver through the rear-view mirror, before looking down at his phone and opening his KakaoTalk, scrolling down until he could find your chat.

He gulped down hard as he scrolled up and up and up.. only to read his own messages again like so many days before.

“Please talk to me, (Y/N). I know I made a mistake..”

“Can you please call me? Just call me, whenever you can.”

“Can you at least tell me if you and the baby are okay? Please..”

“I regret it.. so much, (Y/N). If I could turn back time, I would. I shouldn't have left you alone, I shouldn't have abandoned you. I'm sorry..”

“You moved.. I went to your place, but your landlord said you moved. Can you please tell me your new address? I want to send you some stuff.. that's the least I can do. Money, clothes, whatever you need..”

“It’s been nine months now.. please say something, (Y/N). Tell me you’re both okay..”

None of these were ever answered or read and they were only a few of the thousand that he had sent over the course of the last year.

At this point, he knew that he was a father too.. but nobody else knew that.

He hadn't told any of his members, anyone from his company or anyone from his family. 

Why?

Because he was ashamed of himself.

Ashamed of how he just left you in a moment such as this one, how he completely spit on the relationship and trust that you had built in all these years and how he just didn’t take responsibility for something that he had a part in as well.

If he told anyone, especially his parents, they’d never call him their son again.

“I hope I'll be a dad too eventually,” Namjoon said with a happy smile as he looked at Yoongi, “What about you, hyung? You never really talk about having kids..”

Yoongi quickly turned his phone around, then looked at Namjoon, only to open and close his mouth again.

What answer should he even give him?

No, he had never really thought about having kids, not before you told him that you were pregnant. Then, right after, he had thought he had done the right choice. He truly thought that he didn't want to have children. But the more time passed, the more he yearned for that life. The more he wished he had done things differently.. if so, he would now have a wife and child at home waiting for him.

Instead, he'd come home from this world tour to an empty house full of regrets.

A grim future..

“We're here.. come on boys, let's go,” the manager said once the car stopped, Yoongi being eternally grateful for the arrival, so that he didn't have to answer Namjoon's question.

Hoseok had watched the conversation quietly from the back of the car, his eyes never leaving Yoongi's back as he walked into the venue with slumped shoulders.

Everyone else was running inside because of the rain but him.

He got completely soaked, yet it seemed like he didn't even care, like he didn't even process it. Like his mind was somewhere else completely.

Hoseok didn't know why now, why today, but maybe it was the conversation with the driver that made him think about the whole thing again.

The thing that Yoongi thought nobody knew about.

“Hyung.. can we talk?” Yoongi looked up at Hoseok with furrowed brows, but then got out of the make-up chair and followed the younger member.

He led him into an empty room, a meeting room from the looks of it and then closed the door behind him once Yoongi was inside.

“Sit.”

“What is this?” Yoongi snorted, “Whatever it is you want to say, we could have just talked in front of the others.”

Nothing had happened between Hoseok and Yoongi, so he must have assumed that whatever it was that Hoseok wanted to say to him wouldn’t be serious.

When Yoongi didn't want to sit, Hoseok just leaned against the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest, lowering his head a little, “I didn't know whether or not I should tell you about this in the first place, since I figured that it was none of my business, but I see you with this look on this face more and more so.. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

Hoseok looked out the window for a moment, then he looked into Yoongi's eyes, “I ran into (Y/N) right before we left for tour.”

Yoongi instantly froze.

Thousands of thoughts and questions shot into his mind. Why did he see you? Did he talk to you? Did you two meet up? Did he see the baby?

“Imagine how surprised I was when she stood there with a baby stroller. You never told us why you two broke up, so I just imagined that maybe you didn't want to tell us about it because you were ashamed. When I saw her with the baby I thought she cheated and ended up pregnant,” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, “But you’ve been acting weird and it all started when you two broke up. You see a child and you get all sad, you hear someone mention their child, you get lost in thought. So, hyung.. be honest,” Hoseok took a step forward, then another, getting so close that Yoongi had to lower his head because of how ashamed he became, “Fuck.. it’s your baby, isn’t it?”

Yoongi's jaw began to clench, suddenly feeling like Hoseok was putting him on the spot, like he was blaming him just like Yoongi was blaming himself.

“Yeah.. I figured. Makes sense now.. why you were so depressed again after you’ve worked so hard on overcoming it. Why you felt so bad about yourself. Why you become sad every time you see a child. Jesus, hyung..”

Hoseok didn't know what else to say to him, he was so disappointed in him that he would do this to you that he just wanted to leave right then and there. It was almost as if looking at him repulsed him.

But Yoongi had one question before he could do so.

“Is it.. a boy or a girl?” his eyes were wide when he turned around to look at Hoseok.

“A girl. It's a girl,” he said without looking at him.

But before his hand could even reach the handle, the door got opened.

“There you are,” their manager was suddenly standing in the door way, looking completely out of breath, “What the hell are you doing in here? We need to get you ready, come on!”

Yoongi didn't have a lot of time to think about it after that, make-up and hair took a while and before he knew it, he was already on stage again, performing in front of thousands like he usually did.

He was keeping it together and was actually rather doing a good job at it because his mind couldn’t focus on what it wanted to focus on.

He was caught up in the screams and cheers and for a moment it seemed like everything was fine again.

But once the concert was over and once they started waving their goodbye's to ARMY's and his eyes fell onto Hoseok, it all came flooding back.

“A girl. It's a girl,” it echoed in his ears.

Yoongi had a daughter. A beautiful baby girl that he didn’t know anything about. Was she healthy? What eye color did she have? Did she have a lot of hair? Was she eating enough? Sleeping enough?

And what about you? Were you okay? Did you manage with her on your own? Were you happy nowadays? Stressed or anxious?

Yoongi had no answer to these questions, because he abandoned both of you when he had the chance to still be with you.

And once again, he blamed himself for everything.

And then in front of hundreds of thousands, he broke down. Fully. He was on his knees, sobbing his eyes out and wishing he could turn back time.

He wished he could change how he had reacted. That he had just pulled you close when you were so scared about the baby and told you that everything would be okay and that you'd be in this together. That he’d be by your side throughout everything and that whatever obstacles you would face, you would face together.

He wished he had been there when you had gone into labor and that he could have held his newborn daughter. He wished he had been able to smile at you and tell you that he loved you and was proud of you.

But this wasn’t a Disney movie and wishes didn’t suddenly become true just because you really wanted them to.

This was reality.

And the reality was that he’d never get a second chance.

He fucked up.. and there was no going back.

[mimik-u]

“Homeworld Bound” Thoughts:

I wasn’t going to watch this one today, but then I realized that I really missed the Diamonds and wanted to consume novel content, so!

OOH, good on the show for taking us directly to the aftermath of “Fragments” instead of putting space between the episodes. That’s just... a really good choice narrative wise.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl’s expressions are so distressing here. He’s been gone for three days; they must’ve been so worried.

Jasper steps aside to reveal an absolutely ruined Steven.

He just technically killed a gem and then resurrected her. How intensely will that forever lie on his psyche? Oh my g od

NO, NOT JASPER PASSIVELY MAKING THE DIAMOND SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND AUGH

“You can’t just disappear for days without telling us!”

Steven silent walking up to the Observatory as the Gems continue to freak the fuck out is harrowing. And Dee Dee Magno Hall is killing it with her voice acting here. The simultaneous fear and anger and horror in her voice. Oh my g d

“You guys... I love you, but you can’t help me anymore. I’ve been avoiding the only people in the entire universe who can.” 🥺 This is sad, but I’m also, like, problematic grandmas time!!!!!

“Find something better to do with your life.” God, Jasper’s look of disbelief and sadness here. I didn’t really delve into this during my “Fragments” watch because I was just roridoodwrjfkrkeke reeling, but her reaction to being accidentally shattered is psychologically devastating???? I’d wager that she simultaneously respects the fact that she’s been subjugated by a being more powerful than her, that she’s grateful to Steven for being both subjugator and savior, and likely, she’s conflating this new loyalty with her former loyalty for Pink. This is a really complex psyche (a tragic one most of all).

Garnet: “Steven, remember, we’ll always be your family.” I’m so fucki n emo

AWHWHWH, HOMEWORLD IS SO BRIGHT AND COLORFUL NOW!!!

YO!! Homeworld has a democracy now!! The Zircons!!!!!!!

THE WALL GEM IS MOVING??????? KWOEOEIDJDKSJS

Can u imagine being a wall cursed with sentience. that is so funny on so many levels

But it’s also really interesting, too. If the Wall Gem is a gem in the way say Topazes are gems, which, judging by her mobility, she is—then her explicit purpose in Era 1-2, as molded by presumably Yellow, was to b a wall omg. (Or, arguably, I think it can be argued that the inanimate object Gems, like Comby, were probably accidental sentient creations, made in relationship to their proximity to the Diamonds during their various secretion rituals!!)

Anyway, I love thinking about Homeworld worldbuilding. It’s fascinating.

SQUARE PERIDOT

SPIIIIIINELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Her heart eyes!! She looks so happy!

Steven, angry af: “Spinel, what is wrong with you?” / Spinel: Oh, you know—the usual.” KEKDSKDK

Also, Steven really wanted to say fuck there. NEKDDKKSSKKS

“I was such a wreck then, but I am so much better now.” We stan character growth 😭😭

One thing I have loved the Crewniverse so much for doing is never taking away the physical signs of gems’ mental distress, even after they’ve gotten better: Blue’s eye bags, Volleyball’s eye, Spinel’s running mascara. That is so important.

YELLOW SITTING AT HER LIL VANITY!!

IT’S LIGHT INSIDE HER ROOM! THERE R FLOWERS! THRIVE, QUEEN, THRIVE.

YELLOW REVERSING HER GEM EXPERIMENTS OH MY G D

FUCKING QUEEN!!!!!!

(I’m sorry in advance. The rest of the live blog is just going to be screaming about the Diamonds.)

“I can permanently alter any physical form!” She’s so proud of herself. 😭😭😭 I fuckin’ love her.

Yellow laying down on the ground like that is SENDING ME SKSKSJSJ.

Ugh, and her being such a good mom to Spinel. I’m cry in f

“If anything’s out of proportion, it’s your temper. You can be big if you want to, or you can be small if you want to, but if you’re going to be upset no matter what, then this problem isn’t physical—it’s emotional. Go see Blue.”

I really like her advice here because it’s advice that comments so clearly on her own character arc. At her lowest, she was quick to anger, aggressive, and temperamental, which she diagnoses in Steven here. Additionally, she was the Diamond who was concerned largely with physical actions. She coped by maintaining the Empire through conquering planets and maintaining the minutiae of leadership; she thought the only way to receive justice for Pink was through the physical act of destruction. And in doing so, she pushed her own emotions deep, deep down until they manifested in anger, aggressiveness, and temperamental outbursts. This hurt the people she cared about, and it hurt herself most of all.

Also, “Go see Blue. That is her department.” Ejdoiddjdjjsjdjdks, “go see ur other grandma.”

BLUE FLOATING ON A CLOUD!!!!!

“Your powers have been causing you dramatic mood swings? That seems awfully troubling Steven.” God I love her

“You don’t seem troubled.” This is a really interesting line because it comments on how Blue’s emotions, especially her negatively charged ones, used to be so visible all over her; indeed, she both wittingly and actively used to project them on other Gems, forcing them to feel her suffering, too.

OH, SHE GOES ON TO SAY THE EXACT SAME THING EOEODODISSJJS. LISTEN, I REALLY VIBE WITH BLUE.

“Back before you came into my life, Steven, I wanted every one to feel the pain I felt. I realized I must make up for my awful behavior by bringing joy to others.”

Another thing I’ve appreciated about the writing in this episode: So far, both Blue and Yellow have used the adjective awful to describe their former actions. It’s the self-awareness and the refusal to try to excuse themselves that powerfully shows how much they’ve grown. And it’s their continuous endeavors to keep moving forward, to help the Gems that they’ve hurt, that indicates that they’re willing to constantly keep growing and atoning.

NFOFOFDKSSKSKSK, THESE CLOUDS ARE JUST HER VAPORIZED TEARS HELP.

Sick vape clouds, Blue

I’VE HEARD THE SONG BEFORE, BUT EVERY TIME SHE SINGS, I LOSE MY SHI T

LISA HANNNNIGAAAAAAAN

This is such a pretty line: “Cold palace walls, and endless empty halls, haunted by echoes of laughter.”

BLUE ASCENDING THROUGH THE CLOUDS AUSHAHHSHD

BLUE MAKING HEART CLOUDS FOR SPINEL!!

BLUE CALLING SPINEL N STEVEN HER LITTLE REASONS WHY.

“I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU CRY.” This line is particularly lovely because I think it plays well with Steven’s line to her in “CYM:” “How many times did you make her cry?”

BDJDJDJSJDJ, BLUE LAYING ON HER CLOUD LIKE YELLOW LAID ON THE FLOOR.

The way she sings the last “loving you.” 😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna weep. I love her so fucking much.

“I found happiness. If that's not something you think you deserve, then I suspect this is an issue of self worth. I suggest you go to White for assistance with such matters.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 And like Yellow did, Blue gets to the heart of her arc cleanly.

Before Steven and before her own emotional reckoning, she didn’t think it was her place to be happy: “I know my purpose isn’t to be happy.” But in learning to love others, Blue has found true, inner happiness, which she literally shares with others. Wow.

And I think there’s something powerful in her distinction between true happiness and self-worth. You can’t find one without espousing the other.

White’s room is so pretty. 🥺

THE FLASHING STROBE LIGJTS DDNJDFJDJDNF.

SPINEL WHITE DIAMOND?!/!:$;8;83&:&:

SHE FUCKING LETS OTHER GEMS CONTROL HE R HELP.

SPINEL MAKING WHITE TAP DANCE FICODODOFODJDNDJSJDJDJJDDJDJ

Steven’s horrified expression omg

“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt people; I guess I already have.” God.

And that’s another thing that this episode has called to mind. Blue, Yellow, and White alike once used their insane powers to hurt other Gems and to hurt themselves, and here, throughout this series, we see Steven discovering that same capacity for destruction and self-destruction. Along with the systematic oppressions they facilitated, a big part of the Diamonds’ modus operandi was that their powers were directly correlated to their mental states and their various inabilities to confront their own selves and effect inner change. The corrective wasn’t necessarily Steven; the corrective was him helping them to do that initial act of introspection and looking inwards. And so, too, will Steven have to do the same by the end of this series. But I presume that his family, all the people and gems who have loved and cared for him, will in effect be his Steven, just as he has always been for them.

“Half a Diamond, half a creature of Earth—in all the universe there's no one else that could know what you’re going through, so maybe it's time you talked to yourself.” This is so viscerally sad. White hits the nail on the head here. Steven’s human friends/family and his gem family and even the Diamonds, who come the closest to matching his own strength, can never fully understand him. It’s the tension that underscores a lot, if not the entire show.

White briefly touches Steven with her nail, and you can viscerally see the trauma on his face; he hasn’t forgotten her act above all, wrenching his gem out, nearly killing him.

“I’m... I’m a Diamond.” Steven, in looking at White Diamond, realizes that she’s a mirror of himself. Holy fucking shit

“I don’t want to be you! I don’t want to be anything like you!” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

“Don’t hurt me! She can’t hurt me! I’m controlling her...” And here, Steven doesn’t light upon the essential thing... in making White punch the wall, nearly knocking a huge rock into him, he’s the one hurting himself.

This show, oh my g o d

“She’s the one who should be afraid.” STEVEN?!!!!????!??!

“No, stop it! I don’t like this!” / “Please, you’re scaring me.” OH MY GO D

HE FUCKING MADE HER SLAM HER GEM AGAINST A PILLAR HOLY HE LL

“What... what was that?” Christine’s delivery here. Holy shit. 😭😭 And both of them are surrounded in the carnage of Steven’s wrath. Holy fucking shit.

This act is fundamentally different than him accidentally shattering Jasper in “Fragments”; this was an intentional attempt to hurt White, to crack her, to break her. Holy fucking shit

Spinel, Blue, and Yellow waiting for Steven outside of White’s door has my heart a little and a lot tender 🥺🥺🥺🥺

SPINEL SINGING I CAN MAKE A CHANGE SO DRAMATICALLY DJDIDJDJDJDJD. (But yeah, lmao, this will absolutely be the conclusion of Steven’s arc at the end of Future.)

“Steven! Let us help you, Steven!” The Diamonds are so concerned (mirroring the Gems back at home, too). 😭😭

He leaves a flip flop behind like Cinderella lmao

“Steven, let us help you!” / “We’re your family!” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And just as he implored the CGs, he tells the Diamonds not to follow him either.

Steven is completely and utterly alone.

Not by necessity.

But God, by choice.

Okay, this is my new favorite Future episode.

[matildashoney]

All I’ve Ever Known // The Prologue

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW // TAGS // PLAYLIST // ASKS // LYTA

Let’s talk about Harry and Amelie!

Harry’s routine is always the same before a show. All of Live on Tour has been routine, at least.

That’s because Amelie has been around for nearly the entire tour, scheduling shows around when the meetings for her latest exhibition, her biggest exhibition – twenty pieces of art centred around boundaries and the journey to accepting them as they are – are going to be held, especially the mandatory meetings in-house with Susan – the agent that she’s started working with since she saw her work at an exhibition for up and coming artists two years ago and was thoroughly impressed – and Harry wanted to be as supportive as he could be. That meant being around, even if there was a world tour of eighty some dates across the globe.

Harry’s had the threat of losing Amelie once. He wouldn’t make that mistake, again.

His schedule for the day usually begins with getting to the venue, then soundcheck and tech rehearsal while the stage is being finalised, a light meal of some sort – usually that’s just Amelie eating and Harry having coffee and sitting with her because he’s a tad bit clingy – and a workout. Harry will shower and change, dragging Amelie into the bathroom and talking to her about any emails that she’s gotten, an update on any of the art and the designs that’s she’s been working on with the film that she was signed an artistic creative director for – which he was unbelievably proud of her for – and the dates that she would have to fly home to California to attend their meetings and go over the designs that the crew was working on.

Amelie and Harry were apart for a majority of the years before, nearly nine months apart two years ago and four months last year, graciously able to reconnect towards the end of the Live on Tour dates in late October when the major meetings were coming to a close regarding the exhibition and much of the creative direction was being sent through private emails and phone conferences. Harry was grateful that Amelie was with him, now, but he knew that she was stressed beyond measure. Amelie wears herself too thin, too often, and Harry doesn’t want to see her burn out like she had a year and a half before.

Harry would get changed shortly after his shower, getting in the chair and giving hair and makeup time to do their work, this being the moment that Amelie steps aside and tends to her computer work or talking with her cousin about where the best photographs would be taken for her to sketch out for a project she was working to give Harry for Christmas, that year.

Not that Harry knew this.

Then it’s Amelie’s turn, getting dressed in an outfit that most likely matches Harry’s suit to an extent. Harris designed a few dresses and pant suits for the final show to match what Harry had had selected for himself, giving her the options. Tonight, for the final show, Amelie is wearing the black and gold sparkled pantsuit that’s tight fitting to her chest and thighs, flaring at her calves, a new nose ring hooped into her piercing, her hair a new shade of platinum and curled the way she – and he – loves so much. Not that she admits it often, but it’s always her favourite when they match; it’s their hinted way of saying that they’re together without anyone actually catching on.

Three years in, and crowds are still oblivious to the relationship that they have, and it’s something they cherish, especially with how Harry is painted in the media more often than not. Helene is always very careful with their photographs, too, never sharing too much but always giving the pictures that she has of them backstage. Those might be their favourite shots, the ones where they’re kissing or Harry’s arms are tightly wrapped around her waist, or she’s wiping lipstick off his cheeks. Always a sweet reminder that they’re there, in this together, whatever it may bring.

And by the time everyone is done getting ready, Harry is ready to eat something light, warm his voice, and head on stage. Outside is buzzing with excitement, and they can already hear the crowd singing to “Olivia”, which is Harry’s favourite. Amelie’s computer is away, all of her attention ready to be set on her man, the love of her life, and admire him do what he loves on stage.

Harry was made to be there, to be the star of the show.

And tonight, this show, is bittersweet in a lot of ways. It’s the final Live on Tour date. Coming to a close of eighty-nine shows, all around the world, ninety minutes that tens of thousands can be themselves in one room, one arena. It’s special. It’s something that not many could do. Amelie knows that she surely couldn’t. It’s admirable and brave to be vulnerable to so many people. And although Harry would have liked to write an album a bit more authentic to his sound, what he loves, Amelie is encouraging him every step of the way that now he’s seen how many people adore him and want to see him be himself. He has a million chances to get it right, to grow, to change.

Anne is there. Fay and Luca. Phoebe and her girlfriend, Deb. Brandon and Autumn. Jenny and Dan, Amaya and Amari. All of their friends.

And Amelie. Always where Harry can see her. Always where Harry can know that she’s there to support him, and love him, and be the one that will hold him tight and say that’s she’s proud of him when the show comes to a close.

All of their entourage for the evening is gathered backstage, Amari on Jenny’s waist and Amaya standing close by to Uncle Harry as they all talk and decide on where the children will stay towards the end of the show. Harry’s extremely protective of his goddaughters – and his entire family – to say the least.

Jeff walks into the dressing room, telling Harry that’s it’s time to go, that the show is about to start. Sarah and Mitch walk in behind him, greeting everyone, Adam and Clare shuffling in. Harry is smiling, his heart full of love and so much happiness that isn’t quite sure what could be better.

That’s until Amelie brings him to the side, to the quiet corner in the hallway, taking a polaroid out of her pocket, one with Amelie kissing Harry’s cheek with a smile spread ear to ear on his lips, and sticking it inside the tiny slip in his suit jacket.

“Not one person in this arena could be prouder of you than I am,” Amelie smiles, her eyes wet with tears as Harry swipes a stray beneath her lashes, “and I want you to have this near your heart, to remind you that I fucking adore you and everything you do. All the songs, all the tears, all the love. That’s all you, inside of you. Less than two years and you’ve acted in a film, released an album, done two tours, and you’ve supported me like no one else ever has. Not one person on this planet will ever know the way it is to love you, and I’m beyond grateful that you chose me. I’ll do this with you forever, Harry.”

Harry’s on the verge of tears, now, cupping her jaw and kissing her in a way that could say everything he isn’t sure how to articulate. He loves her. God, he fucking loves her. And he’s sure that he loves her more than anyone could ever love another person in the entire world. That’s why there’s a ring in his duffle bag, a ring that her grandfather gave him the day they went to visit a day before his show, telling Harry that her grandmother always said that the person that falls in love with Amelie should have it, because it would mean more to her than she would ever admit. And Harry wants to give it to her, and everyday feels like the day.

“All for you, all of this is for you, you know that? Everything I do.”

Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, soaking in the way that for a moment, it’s only them and their love and how much of their life is surrounded by the way that they support each other. Her fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, not wanting to ruin his hair, even though she knows that he wouldn’t mind. And they stand that way for a few minutes, knowing that someone is going to come and whisk him away for the show to start, and Amelie will stand right where the stairs are to be the last person he sees before going on stage.

“I adore you, Harry Styles. More than anyone has ever loved another person,” Amelie whispers into his neck, and Harry pulls away for a moment to look at her. “And I am unbelievably proud of you. Not just as your girlfriend, but as your best friend.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Harry stares at Amelie as if she’s hung the moon and the stars in the sky and aligned all the planets for them to live the life they’re living. Helene is hidden behind a wall, snapping pictures of the two in the middle of their moment, unable to hear the way they’re speaking so fondly of each other. They’ll want the memories, the photographs of the moment that only they shared. “You’ll be at the B Stage, right? I’m ready to sing my heart out to you.”

“Always.”

And Amelie’s right. Not one show has she missed being right there, standing in front of him, singing the words to the songs that he wrote for her, as his way to show the love that couldn’t be said in an everyday conversation.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Tom says, kindly taking the two out of their bubble and patting Harry’s cheek. “Know where you’re going, Ames?”

Amelie smiles at the name, knowing that it’s all Harry’s doing that so many people in their life have taken to calling her that. “Always.”

“Great. Have to take him away but you’ll see him soon.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding to his manager and taking a few steps away and towards the huddled group in the centre of the corridor, all of his band and team and crew gathering to have a final few words before the show would begin. Amelie squeezes Harry’s hand reassuringly, stealing a kiss – not that she’s stealing much when she has about a hundred a day – and smiling, releasing him and gently nudging him towards the group, taking her backstage pass between her fingertips and walking towards the walkway of the stage, slinking down and hiding herself as security lights a path for her to the stairs. All of the band is shuffling quickly behind her, Harry talking to Jeff and giving Anne a kiss to her cheek before walking in their footsteps.

And standing there, listening to the arena cheering and screaming his name, the lights fading and the screens lifting, Harry knows that there is nothing that will replace this feeling. Euphoria, in a sense. Feeling completely at home and loved and free. He is well aware that having the love of his life there is a big part of that, because there is no better feeling than making the one you love proud of you.

There Amelie is, waiting for him at the edge of the stairs, his favourite smile on her lips, waiting to give him one last kiss before he steps on the stage, before he’s home.

“Enjoy every moment of this, baby,” Amelie smiles, taking his cheeks in her hands and kissing him sweetly. “This is all for you, you did this. I am so proud of you.” There’s a moment where they’re staring and it’s perfect. “Only Angel” is beginning to play, and the clock is ticking. “I’ll be right there singing back to you.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and there are no more words for him to express how wonderful he feels at that moment.

“All the way back to wherever you are, I love you. Always.”

One final kiss, and Harry is bounding up the steps, his in-ears pressed in place and the screams of the arena overwhelming him in the best way. His attitude changes to the stage presence that everyone loves, and he knows that this is the moment that he’ll remember forever. That this will be his, always.

Harry’s, and Amelie’s, and theirs – the fans – because there would be nothing, none of this, no opportunity to fulfil his dreams without them.

And for that, he will be forever grateful, beyond words.

Amelie rushes to walk around the stage, everyone beginning to file around her as security leads them into the arena and weaves through the audience, making sure everyone is settled in the area that Harry wants them, where he can see them. As always, Phoebe grabs Amelie’s hand, the two happily unaware of anyone recording them and the way that the tech and sound engineers are overly endeared by them. All that there is in the room is love and happiness and a whole lot of freedom that nobody could take away from them.

Amelie can’t not think about what the songs mean. Harry gave her the opportunity to really have her own interpretation of the lyrics before telling her what they’re about, the ones that she wanted to know, at least, and for a few minutes, she would sit in silence, listening to the track all over again, taking in the way he writes so elegantly about things that have cut him deep. For that, Amelie is unbelievably proud of him, because there is a lot of courage that comes along with being honest, even if Harry was still working up to being authentically himself.

Harry Styles is not about her entirely, and that’s nothing that’s ever upset her. Amelie knows there were experiences, relationships, love, heartbreak long before she was around, and there would never be a time that she would say something to make Harry think differently about what he was writing, because at the end of the day, his writing is the same as her art – therapeutic and cathartic; a way to release all of their thoughts and emotions in a healthy way, to get everything on the surface and share in the best way they know how.

Opening the show with “Only Angel” and “Woman”, there really was no need for a thoughtful interpretation. Harry including the line that Brandon said to him the day they met, that his younger sister is less than an angel and he would have to wait to find out, clearly oblivious to how their relationship came about to begin with. Harry writing in the line that was said to her as his face was between her thighs when she visited him in Jamaica while writing the album, only there for four days and he took full advantage of having her at his fingertips and as his muse. “Carolina” was always the song that made Amelie try to hide away, remembering particularly the night that they all went out and got absolutely plastered, blacked out, somehow winding up with a story of Harry nearly dragging Amelie to a toilet and taking her there, their friend bringing home a girl and telling the story of their night together the next day; and thus the song was born, a messy tale of sex and liquor and one night stands – for their friend, at least.

And everyone is dancing, singing, having the time of their lives. All of their friends and family are cheering and supporting the man she loves most in the world, and there is no greater feeling than how much she adores him and all that he’s doing.

Amelie’s arms fold in front of her chest as soon as the opening chords of “Meet Me in the Hallway” begin playing, thinking about how far they’ve come from the moments that inspired such a desperate song. That was the first song that Harry played for Amelie when showing her the album – not simply because it was first, but because he wanted to tell her why he wrote it – and there will never be a time that she listens that she doesn’t think of how much hurt their break, their arguing, their conversations caused for him barely two years ago. That’s how Harry felt, in devastating pain. There is something to be said for the way the outro to the song leads him straight to where she’s standing. Maybe Harry’s done it on purpose, maybe he hasn’t, but seeing the way his eyes light up with her standing right there says more about their love for each other than any words could.

Harry grins at Amelie, gathering his guitar and microphone and getting ready to sing the songs that are all for her, that were chosen to be sung to her, right there. He smiles as Amaya waves from where they’re standing, their Amari already falling asleep on her father’s shoulder, her headphones chunky on her head and making for a difficult way to be comfortable. His tongue wets his lips, taking a drink and playing the opening chords to “Sweet Creature” as he always does, trying his absolute best to have his emotions in tact as he stares at the love of his life crying in front of him, her eyes wet and her hand over her heart – with their niece’s hand over hers – the tiny h tattoo that she impulsively got in Amsterdam at the small of her wrist.

All of this, whether she believed it or not, was for her. All of the songs. All of the emotions. All of the writing and travelling and work, because all he wanted was to make her proud, to make her happy. And she is. Completely and utterly happy.

“Hugs, Auntie?” Amaya whispers into her ear, noticing the tears on her cheeks as the song comes to a close.

“Absolutely,” Amelie smiles, hugging her tightly to her chest and kissing her forehead and adjusting her on her waist to have her tuck her face into her neck. One of them would bring them backstage once the miniature set was over, to have them there for when everyone hurries out and they all begin to make their way to celebrate the end of tour. “Uncle Harry’s going to sing a song for Auntie and then Daddy will take you back, okay?”

Harry grins as Amelie mouths the three words that mean the absolute most, his fingers beginning to strum against the guitar that she decorated as a birthday present before tour began in March. This was their song, the song that was meant for Amelie and only Amelie. All of the lyrics are about her, about how he would do absolutely anything for her.

Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s, eyelashes wet with tears as she sings along, singing to him and him to her. “For your eyes only, I show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only.”

And for those four minutes, it’s as though they are the only two in the arena.

Amelie really thinks that, maybe, she and Harry might be.

“Kiwi” has the ground shaking, and by the time Harry is at the B Stage standing in front of her, once again, the smile on her face is unmistakeable for one that only can be caused by him. Her shoulder is tapped near the end of the third go, ushering her backstage where Harry would be waiting to squeeze her and kiss her as he always does.

Around the dressing room, there is a freshly made cake and champagne and liquor and balloons celebrating the show. Harry’s clothes are folded neatly on the vanity, waiting for him to change and get to greet everyone and give his gratitude to everyone that’s supported him – his team, his crew, his band, his family and friends, and his girlfriend when they’re home – and stay a bit later to watch the stage get taken down and absorb the last moments that existed of Live on Tour.

“Hi, baby,” Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laughing as his hands grab her bum and lift her onto his waist, hugging her as tightly as physically possible. “That was fucking incredible. All of it. Every single second.”

Harry kisses her neck, gently setting her feet on the ground and feverishly kissing her, his hands tied in her hair, soaking in the way she is smiling against his lips and clinging to his arms. His mind is oblivious to everyone clapping and cheering around him, giving the two a minute to themselves before whisking him away to the makeshift party. “I love you. Merci pour tout.”

“This is all you,” she says, turning her head and kissing his palm as his lips touch her hairline sweetly. “Never need to thank me for doing what a best friend should do, what you should do for someone you love.”

“Amelie Fay, you are so much more than my best friend.” Harry kisses Amelie once more, interlocking their fingers and walking towards the crowd that is cheering and congratulating and sharing hugs.

Amelie hugs Harry’s waist, slinking away and walking in the dressing room, leaving him to talk to everyone and have his moment alone. This was Harry’s moment and Amelie knows that he’ll get distracted with her around and talking nearby. Her mother and father are talking with Anne, Phoebe and Maya talking with Brandon and Autumn as they all get ready to leave sooner rather than later. Jenny and Dan and talking mindlessly on the couch, their children sleeping on their chests and enjoying the quiet that surrounds them.

“Harry always gets them right to sleep,” Amelie laughs, taking a seat next to Jenny and staring lovingly at her goddaughter as she cuddles into her mother’s chest. “Did you like the show?”

“Loved it, as always,” Jenny says, pursing her lips together and staring into the corridor, likely ensuring that Harry wasn’t walking inside before speaking again. “Thought about this earlier when I saw you two outside.”

“Thought about what?”

“You and Harry getting married,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as her husband shakes his head. “Don’t shake your head at me, Daniel, I want to officiate it.” Jenny’s attention goes back to her best friend, “Do you think you’ll even get engaged soon? Don’t have to get married, right away. Thought about how great you two are so great together, in love more than anyone could’ve guessed you would be. Age is a stupid excuse, so I don’t want to hear that.” Jenny’s eyes narrow at Amelie as she opens her mouth, knowing what her best friend would say. “Obviously, you two are living very chaotic lives, right now, but have you thought about it? Talked about it, at least?”

“From time to time, yeah,” Amelie says, running her fingers through her hair. “Don’t really think about it much, right now, with tour and the exhibition and the movie, and everything. I mean, that’s not to say that I wouldn’t say yes if Harry asked me.” Harry’s voice gets louder as he nears the dressing room. “Think that us living together and having a cat and buying a house is what works for us, right now. Don’t think Harry would want to settle down that fast at twenty-four.”

“Think you’d be surprised,” Jenny shrugs, kissing her daughter’s hair and rubbing her back soothingly. “Harry talks about having a life with you all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because having babies almost feels inevitable after you get married, you know? Neither of us want to have children when everything in our future is so uncertain.”

“Makes sense,” she says, pursing her lips and taking a sip of her water. “Don’t ever rule anything out, though, alright? This is good for you. Harry’s good for you.”

Harry smiles as he walks into the dressing room, kissing his mother on the cheek, graciously accepting her tight embrace, hugging Amelie’s mother and father, and walking straight towards his love sitting on his chair at the vanity. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Harry instinctively moves into a spot where Amelie’s arms can wrap around his shoulders, where she can hold him. His hands hold hers, kisses set all over his cheeks as he laughs, their best friends murmuring something about how obnoxious they are together. His heart is obsessively full of love, nearly breaking his ribs with how swollen it is, his chest tight in the sweetest way. Harry grabs his clean clothes, tugging on Amelie’s hand and bringing her into the quiet bathroom with him, squeaking when his hands immediately move to her waist and his mouth attaches to hers.

His kiss is heavy against her swollen mouth, feverish and lusting and slightly out of breath. Her fingers thread through his curls, absolutely obsessed with the moment that belongs to only them, only their eyes, only their mouths. All Harry wants is to immerse himself into Amelie’s skin, her touch, her kiss. His yearning for her isn’t necessarily sexual, but craving the moments that they’re alone that all of his attention is on her, and he doesn’t have to speak to anyone, simply listening to her ramble and talk about what she loves about life and art and music and always most importantly, him. His greatest wish would be to be inside her mind, to know all that her thoughts are when she isn’t telling him, to know all that he doesn’t already. Harry loves Amelie so deeply, that he wants to know absolutely everything, feel everything, love everything.

Amelie gently nudges Harry away, smiling softly at the whimper that leaves him and the way his hands hug tight around her waist. “Everyone is going to look for you, Mr Styles. Can’t have sex in here and disappear from the world.”

“Can disappear if you really want to.”

Harry swears his heart could burst when Amelie giggles, laying her head on his sweaty skin and kissing his neck. “Get changed and we can celebrate.”

His fingers start undoing the buttons on his shirt, his trousers loosening around his waist. “Are you going to watch them take the stage down with me?”

“’Course,” she says, smirking when his head rolls against his neck, frustrated with the buttons that won’t come undone. “Let me.”

His tongue licks his lips as Amelie begins unbuttoning his shirt, each button slow and drawn out, giving him a moment to talk to her. “Having that picture in my pocket made me feel really,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “loved. Made me feel even more loved, t’night. Thank you for it.”

“Have about three years’ worth of polaroids to take on stage with you.”

“Like having one of only you, only us, though. Gave me a reminder of who I’m doing it for,” Harry says, his eyes squeezing shut as Amelie kisses him, her warm hands on his sweaty skin, her thumbs pressing into the butterfly on his abdomen to steady her on her toes. “You.”

“Good thing I do the same for you, then, isn’t it? Otherwise that’d be awkward,” Amelie giggles, handing over his shirt and sweats and smiling to herself. “Couldn’t be more freaking proud of you, baby.”

“That’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Feeling?”

“Making you proud,” he states matter-of-factly, tying the inside of the waistband and folding the suit neatly, tucking the polaroid in his pocket safely and kissing her forehead as they walk outside. “Alright. There’s a party in the kitchen. Let’s go!”

Harry and Amelie leave a bit early, saying goodbye to their family and friends and taking to sitting in the seats in the arena to watch as the last of the stage comes down. All of the bittersweet feelings that remain clinging between their interlocked hands and Amelie’s cheek resting on Harry’s shoulder. Her head is buzzing with champagne, Harry’s mind slightly foggy with exhaustion and liquor and the adrenaline. All of it is perfect, the way it should be. Harry couldn’t have asked for anything better to finish out his tour.

Harry’s eyes sting with tears as they leave, clinging to the hand in his and savouring in the kiss that is wet on his cheek as they get into their car. Harry nearly laughs thinking about how this might be their first drive together where there is absolutely no music, and there is the temptation to bring about their very first conversation about having music on in the car from the very first day they met. His mind is going in a million different directions, and as they’re going into the garage, the engine turning and the door closing behind them, the realisation settles in that they’re about to have time to be together.

“Can we watch the sunrise?” Amelie whispers tiredly, reaching for Harry’s hand as she walks around the car and follows him inside, their cat waiting at the door expectantly. “Says it should be rising in about thirty minutes.”

“Gives us time to shower, then.”

Harry squeezes her hand, kissing her forehead and walking closely behind as they walk into their bedroom and begin lazily taking their clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin, a laugh echoing around the room as she shivers under the water. Holding hands and sharing kisses, the water washes over them warmly and comfortingly, soothing Harry’s aching muscles and drawing Amelie into relaxation that is more than enjoyed.

After their shower, Harry draws the curtains open on their balcony to watch the sunrise, admiring how the light shines over Amelie as she shrugs one of his sweatshirts over her torso, disregarding any underwear or shorts or leggings, climbing into their bed and waiting for him to tug clean briefs onto his legs and settle beneath the comforter. Her hand is holding their favourite poetry book – the one they’re reading, at the minute, at least – and lays on his lap, letting the dim light of his bedside lamp cast over the vanilla pages and lifting her neck slightly to let him bring all of her damp hair onto his thighs, his fingers gently scratching her scalp and carding through the curls. Her eyes fall over the words written in the scattered form, always reading silently to herself – although she always reads quietly aloud, which he loves – before reading to him.

Amelie’s voice is almost shy when she speaks, making Harry immediately turn away from the rising sun to meet her hooded eyes. “Harry?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think–” Amelie hesitates for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions before speaking aloud. They’ve never really had this conversation before, surely not at nearly six in the morning. Usually it would be the casual, I want to be with you forever or This is it, you and me, that would settle the lingering question that seemingly everyone but them would ask. “Have you thought about us getting married, about proposing? Maybe a future, with me, I guess.”

“All the time,” Harry says, his soft movements making her eyes fall shut every so often. “Have you thought about it?”

“From time to time, yeah. Like what we have going,” she says, staring at the man she loves dearly, a soft smile on his features as she licks her lips. There’s something in Harry’s demeanour that changes, as though her words are saying that she wouldn’t marry him, which is far from the truth. “But that title doesn’t really matter to me, at the end of the day. I want you, more than anything. As my boyfriend, my husband, my best friend, you name it. Could ask me to marry you and I’d say yes. All that matters to me is that we’re together.”

Harry thinks that their best friend might’ve said something about the engagement ring sitting in his duffle bag with the polaroid from his suit, and his heart falls to his stomach. He didn’t want to ask this way, sleepy and fatigued, the sun rising, their bodies utterly exhausted from the rush of the last two days.

“Not saying I am,” Harry laughs, kissing her hairline as she lays the poetry book on her chest and stares at him. “But, if I asked you to marry me, let’s say today, would you say yes?”

“Doesn’t matter if it was yesterday, today, tomorrow, or a year from now,” Amelie whispers, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm as he caresses her cheek, “I’ll say yes whenever, wherever.”

“Mean that?”

“De tout mon coeur.” Amelie says, with my whole heart, and Harry knows that there is nothing that could be more perfect.

“Can we hold off on the babies, though? Like to enjoy you as m’wife for a bit.”

“How does four years sound? Think we can get married by then? Have a nice house in London and Malibu. Living lavishly.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Lavish?”

“Truthfully,” Amelie breathes, turning her cheek on his thigh to watch the sun rise over their balcony and through their window, Harry’s fingertips trailing up her neck and through her hair, “none of that matters to me as long as we’re together. As cliché as that all sounds, and I absolutely hate a cliché. Mama always said that nothing really matters if there isn’t love in it. Don’t think anything would be what I want if I didn’t love you and you didn’t love me.”

“Good thing that I’m absolutely in love with you,” Harry smiles, gently taking the book from her hands and kissing her cheek and her jaw. “Think the Universe made you for me to love, you know that? All along, the stars were aligning for us to have something special.”

“Think that we’ll make it through anything? Not like the relationships that have something bad happen and they’re irreparable.” Harry leans over to shut the light, the dimness in the room casting over her, reminding her of how tired she really is. “Can’t see us being that way.”

“Nothing could be irreparable with us. Not you and me, Ames.” His accent is thicker, now. He’s exhausted, his body and mind are craving sleep. But this is a conversation that he’s willing to stay awake for, that he would deny sleep for hours if that’s what she wanted. “Nothing could make me not love you.”

Amelie adjusts her body slightly, giving Harry space to lay flat on their mattress, his head sinking into his pillow. His hands nudge at her waist, sighing deeply when she lays her weight completely on him – well, nearly half of her body is slung over him – his arms around her waist. Harry liked to sleep like this sometimes, especially when they’re feeling especially close and intimate. Amelie doesn’t mind it. It makes her feel loved.

“Guess we should tell everyone to be expecting a ring soon, then,” Amelie laughs, kissing Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply as her eyes fall shut. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Amelie kisses Harry’s lips sweetly, sinking into his embrace and falling asleep, her breathing evening out against his skin and her lips parting on his chest. And Harry stays silent for a few minutes, kissing her hairline, soaking in the tenderness that surrounds him, thinking of the tiny diamond ring sitting in their wardrobe.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Harry is sitting at the edge of the bed, fingertips picking at his trousers, his palms sweating against the quilted comforter. Amelie is in the bathroom, the door shut quietly behind her – which is awkward in itself because they’ve not shut the bathroom door since they moved in together two and half years ago – and there is the sound of the running sink echoing around the bedroom. Tigger is purring against Harry’s leg, and Harry wants to tell him to stop, to leave the room and give them a moment, but he knows that there is a sense of comfort in all of three of them being together in such a defining moment, a moment where they are nervous for what’s to come and what to make of their situation, a moment that could certainly change their relationship forever.

Harry’s eyes flick to where his girlfriend is standing in the bathroom doorway, moving his hand away from their cat’s head and holding his knees. He can see the tears in her eyes, the wobbling of her chin, the shakiness in her hands. Her anxiety is written in the furrowed brows and lines creasing her forehead, the redness lining her mouth as her teeth bite into her lips. His arms open, waiting for her to walk forward and sit with him, grateful that she decides to straddle his waist and wrap her arms around his shoulders rather than sit far away. His hands rub her back, kissing her neck lightly and waiting until she’s ready to speak.

“This isn’t what we wanted,” Amelie whispers into his shoulder, tears wetting her cheeks, her fingertips gripping his sweater as if he is going to disappear from beneath her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry soothes, trying to mask the fear in his voice, “don’t apologise, baby. Not all your fault, you know. Certainly, had my part in it.” His throat goes dry for a minute. “All your decision what you want to do, once that timer goes.”

Amelie can feel Harry shake his head against her neck as she speaks, his fingertips tracing along her spine beneath her oversized shirt. “Harry, the album–”

“Album can wait. Tour can wait. All of it can wait. Can’t do that without me, can they?” Harry wants to lighten the anxiety lingering in their chests, but he very well knows that that won’t happen until that timer sounds and the answer to their question is given.

“Don’t want you to resent me for ruining your life.”

Harry immediately pulls away to face her, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at how she could ever think such a thing. “Amelie Fay, do you really think I would resent you? And who said anything about ruining my life? Do you really think that having a family with you would ruin my life? How many times have I told you that I want forever with you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say to me, ‘all that matters is that we’re together’? Didn’t you say that?” Harry pauses for a moment, waiting for Amelie to silently nod to answer his question. “Have to believe that we’ll be alright, as long as we’re together.”

Amelie hides her face in Harry’s neck once more, ignoring the ringing timer going in the bathroom. “This anxiety is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Come with me,” Harry says, squeezing her waist and kissing her cheek, “and we’ll do this together.”

Amelie nods into his chest, standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers, walking nervously into the bathroom and taking a second to turn the timer off and let Harry see the results first. He always has a steady hand, even if he’s feeling anxious himself. His stability grounded her in more ways than one, and it was something that made her feel as though, if this were to be real, maybe they would be alright.

“Can you look first?”

Harry nods, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, squeezing her fingers as he turns the test over on the counter, his peripheral vision catching Amelie turn away. Harry gulps, taking in the blinking Pregnant + sign on the digital screen. His voice caught in his throat, unable to speak through his parted lips, his mouth going dry. Amelie was right, this isn’t what they wanted, what they planned. Harry wants a family with Amelie – of course he does – but that certainly wasn’t the intention until after they were married. Hell, Harry hadn’t even proposed yet. All of his thoughts are swimming in his brain, almost going unnoticed when her hand slips out of his and takes the test from the counter, staring at the words written on the screen and taking a minute to really take in all that this meant.

“I need you to not hate me for what I want.” Amelie sucks in a deep breath, tears stinging her eyes, a sob wracking through her body as Harry brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and touching his lips to her hair, desperately trying to soothe her.

“Could never hate you for that,” Harry says reassuringly, kissing her forehead and gently cupping her cheeks, bringing her to face him. “I’m with you, always.”

Amelie gulps, taking the test in her hands and staring at the way the bolded word is so intimidating to her anxiety, to the pressure that is felt on her chest as if there is a brick weighing on her lungs. Maybe this is another way to test her strength, to test how much she wants to be a better person, because this would be the perfect opportunity to slip into an anxious state, a depressive episode. Her mind is begging for it, for the comfort of being numb.

Harry nudges her chin, making her meet his eyes and all of the thoughts are subsided by ones that make her want to cry into his arms and say that she loves him. “Don’t get swallowed into it. Can shake these feelings, but we have to do it together, Ames. Look at me.” He knows her better than anyone does. He knows her better than anyone ever will. “I’m here, angel. I’m right here.”

Amelie nods, sucking in a breath through parted lips, leaning her forehead against his chest and blinking away the remaining tears in her eyes. Harry’s fingers brush through her hair as they always do, comforting her in the ways that he’s learnt over the three years they’ve been together. “Everything we do is together, right?”

“Always.”

And silently, Harry and Amelie turn to stare at the tiny word that is going to change their lives forever.

[aelaer]

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view. 

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless. 

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

[redhawtriot]

Caught in The Act (Bakugou x Reader x Todoroki)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Thanks so much to all of you who have followed this story! I remember that I started this series this month to celebrate my first 100 followers, but now I am up to 1000 of y’all? The fuck?

You guys are so supportive! I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to share my art with! Again, thank you so much!

HnM💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Finale:

She did not just call you crazy. And a bitch.

Fae’s eyes wildly flashed between you and her sister, “C-crazy bitch? I—"

“FIRST OF ALL, who the HELL do you think--” you cut yourself off before gently inhaling a pocket of air. You were sounding way too much like a certain explosive disgrace for your liking. You closed your eyes as you breathed out all of your frustrations.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?!” Fae protectively shifted to fill the space between you and her little sister, “Farrah, there must be a mistake. This is my roommate, Y/N.”

Farrah.

A pretty name forever ruined by a slut.  

God, you wanted to beat her ass more than anything. It was as if all of your nerves were on fire and screaming a you to just do something.

Was this what Katsuki constantly felt like?

The violent beating of your eardrums was deafening and your vision was beginning to blur as you scowled at Fae’s sister.

Everything in your being yearned for you to switch to “instant kill mode”, but you couldn’t physically move. It was as if a small piece of you held your fury under control like a rabid dog on a chain-- or a parliament of higher beings had voted for you to keep your cool.

You sucked in one more time as your heart began to slow down. You gave one last, gentle huff as you continued to glare.

Farrah sent a scowl of her own back at you, “She is the one who—”

“This is the trash that slept with my boyfriend,” you deadpanned very flatly as your eyes slightly narrowed at her.  Fae’s jaw fell immediately at your words, but you continued talking despite her shock, “I just don’t see how she, of all people, could be upset in the situation. If you're upset at all, it should be at yourself. You have no class or self-worth, sleeping with an engaged man,” you crossed your arms as you reprimanded her and dared her to say something else as you intensified your stare.

You felt your heart jump as she stepped forward towards you, past Fae. It was as if it were excited by the idea that she may attack you so that you thoroughly beating the snot out of her would be justified.

Shit. What was wrong with you.

You kicked the persistent, animal-like thoughts off your leg as you continued to eye Farrah.

“You’re psychotic!!” she gasped as she threw her hands up, “I totally didn’t know Ground Zero even had a girl! psycho ass!”

Bull shit. You and Bakugou had both been plastered everywhere since your first sports festival at U.A. when you were fifteen. Since then you had both been in the eye of the media. It was pretty common knowledge that he wasn’t single. Your face scrunched up in disgust at her blatant lies as she continued, “She kicked me out of the apartment with nothing but my bare ass!!!”

“Yeah, you left your cheap ass, ratty ass clothes and your dignity that night too,” you rolled your eyes as the words flew out of your mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down, everybody,” Fae looked as if she was on the brink of crying, “Farrah, I think you should leave for now, Okay?” She fiddled with her fingers.

“Yeah, I think so too.” As you pettily used your dancing fingers to wave, astonishment flashed across Fae’s expression. Honestly if your heart wasn’t thrumming against your chest so crazily right now, you would be horrified at how you were acting too, but the adrenaline that coursed throughout your body at the sight of the whore in the room numbed your mind.

Farrah struggled against her older sister as she tried to lead her away from the would-be battlefield, “No!! She is the one that needs to leave. You’re the one who pays rent around here, Sis!”

“Farrah, stop it!” Fae pleaded.

“WHY??” Farrah blurted before throwing a finger in your direction, “Newsflash, she is the one who is stealing your man from you now!” her voice raised an octave as she screeched, “Talk about hypocritical!” All of the color drained from Fae’s face as she threw horrified glances between you and her sister. Her mouth stumbled over itself as she tried to find words.

Your eyebrows congregated to the middle of your forehead as you tried to decipher the meaning of Farrah’s words.

Todoroki? Is that Fae’s man?

As if on cue, the front door to the house casually slid open, revealing a tired Todoroki.

All of the chaos that had been ensuing inside immediately halted as Todoroki froze in the doorway. His eyes snapped around as he saw the loose papers from Fae’s books that you hadn’t even noticed that you had thrown around with your quirk in your frustration, your completely furious expression and defensive stance, and Fae’s horrified form struggling to hold onto her crazed sister.

It was a lot to interpret.

“What… is going on,” he calmly questioned before he was assaulted with a boom of feminine screams.

“TELL HER TO LEAVE!”

“NO, TELL HER TO LEAVE! SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIVE HERE.”

“FARRAH, STOP!”

“NEITHER DO YOU, WHORE.”

Todoroki blinked in shock at the words that flew out of your mouth. He had never heard you used such a tone or choice of words with anyone—not even when you were against villains at U.A.. He hated to see you so upset, but he had no idea what to do with all of these women yelling at him, “Uh, Y/N...? Should we talk?” He questioned, causing Farrah to roll her eyes before she mouthed the word “see?” To her sister.

You huffed once more as you stormed towards the man, “Okay...” You begrudgingly agreed as you walked outside of the door, not even bothering to look him in the face. You couldn’t bring yourself to. Something just didn’t sit right with you.

As soon as he shut the front door behind him and walked down to the driveway a bit to meet up with where you had stormed off to, you threw a curve-ball at him,

“Just what is Fae to you?”

The question completely caught him off guard, but he immediately answered anyway, “Our roommate?”

“Obviously. But like. Did you and her… ever you know…” the thought alone made you feel queasy, “have something romantic.” You could have thrown up right then and there.

But his lack of reply made you feel a different type of sick. You blinked in surprise as the silence ensued before you spoke up, “You’re kidding,” you blurted.

“It’s not at all what you are thinking. There was chemistry for sure, but nothing ever happened. It wasn’t strong like you and I. When you came back there was no doubt in my mind that me and her were nothing.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” you threw pinched fingers to the brige of your nose and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, “Jesus, that poor girl.” So you really were just as much of a homewrecker, huh?

You thought there was one whore in that house but there were two.

“Fae is fine,” Todoroki moved to place a hand on your shoulder but you shifted away. He looked a bit shocked as he continued, “She had been dating here and there. She’s unaffected by the situation,” he calmly argued.

“God, Todoroki. That’s not the point,” you searched around your jacket pocket for your car keys. You had to get out of here. Even if you were in your house shoes.

“Im sorry, did I do something? Where are you going?” Todoroki’s calm demeanor slightly cracked as panicked undertones filled his question.

“I need to think,” you simply replied. Upon seeing his worried expression you immediately changed your answer, “I’ll… be back, okay? I just need a drive. We are still cool, okay? Friends,” you tried to sound enthused at the word.

“Okay… be safe.”

You slightly nodded at him before getting in your car and driving off.

You couldn’t believe it. You were slowly becoming everything that split you an Katsuki apart.

Your phone violently vibrating against your leg sent you flying out of your thoughts. Jesus, Kiri. He always called when you were trying to drive your frustration away—literally.

You groaned as you answered the phone.

“Hey!” His chipper voice had a slight undertone of panic to it, but your frustrated mind completely ignored it,

“What,” you deadpanned.

“Oh god, this isn’t a good time is it…?” he nervously laughed, causing your face to instantly shrivel up into a scowl,

“Just tell me what the fuck you want, Kirishima!” you blurted. A long silence filled the line, causing you to breath out heavily in a deep sigh. Way to go.

It was as if you were taking notes straight out of Katsuki’s book today. You just cursed at the sweetest guy on the planet. I mean, you might as well have just stomped on a puppy with both feet, “Look. I am sorry. I didn’t mean that... it’s just a long day…”

A pathetic excuse really. You realized this as soon as it came out of your mouth.

Kiri, being the happy souled fool he was, wholeheartedly accepted your pathetic excuse, “Maybe I should call back then...?” he suggested kindly.

“No, its okay, Kiri. What’s up?” you tried to smile as if he could see you—as if this gentle gesture would make up for how much of a colossal bitch you had just been.

“Well...” he dragged,  “Don’t you think maybe that it is about time you picked up your things from our apartment?”

You sighed, “…it’s really not a good time for me. I just..”

“WE CAUGHT THE HOUSE ON FIRE,” he cried out suddenly.

You held the phone closer to your ear as if you hadn’t heard him correctly, “Um. W-hwhat…?”

As soon as you spoke it triggered a tangent from the redhead, “Bakugou was really mad because he found out about you and Todoroki a few hours ago and he came home and wanted to vent his frustrations out, and we both know what that means, so we got to fighting and I punched him really hard, totally not manly of me by the way, and I pissed him off and then he exploded me and we set the house on fire!” he gasped for air, “I am so sorry!!” he exclaimed in a higher tone.

Your mind spun as you tried to take in all of the information that was being thrown at you at once. Finally it settled into your brain, “Oh my god!” you gasped, “Is he… is Katsuki okay?!”

“Yeah he is fine. He’s is in the hospital,” he brushed off.

“What!?! Where?!”

He quickly corrected himself at the sound of your heartbroken voice, “No, no! Not like that!” For some reason the concern in your voice for Bakugou made him happy, “He just needed a few little burn treatments! Anyway, we will probably be released tomorrow morning or night from the hospital, but—”

“We?!” you screeched.

“Yeah, I—”

“Kiri please tell me you did not just call me from a hospital bed,” you shook your head furiously.

“I just wanted to tell you that you should go pick up your things while Bakugou isn’t there, well what’s left of it anyway,” he gave an uneasy chuckle.

“Isn’t it still hot?”

“One of the firefighters had a cold quirk so everything turned out okay after they showed up. No other apartments were affected at all actually!” You still couldn’t believe this was all happening. You honestly hadn’t planned on grabbing your things from the apartment so soon. Then again, it had been months hadn’t it?

“So, are you going?” Kirishima snapped you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll head over there right now,” you absentmindedly nodded even though he couldn’t see you. You hung up the phone after the two of you had spoken your farewells, but you could hardly remember the rest of the drive as you stood in front of your old home.

Your mind felt entirely numb as you gawked at the tall, polished building.

The crime scene—where the dreams that you had been building since you were fifteen years old came to die a gruesome death. You swiftly ducked under the fitting yellow tape as you made your way into the scorched portion of the home—your old room.

It was pretty much the only area that had been affected by the disaster as the rest of the home basically look exactly as you had remembered it to be—well minus the manly mess that Kiri tended to leave behind. You assumed Katsuki had been more strict on house rules since you left.

You walked up to what was left of your grandmother’s dresser and traced your fingers along the crumbling edges of the wood. You ended your trail as your fingers found their way onto an old frame. You couldn’t tell if picture was okay since a film of ash painted the fractured glass, but the frame seemed fine, as it resided in an area that hadn’t been touched by the inferno.

So then why was the glass cracked?

That’s when it hit you—it must have been the object that you had thrown at Farrah that night. You remembered that you threw something at her that shattered, but you never bothered to find out what.

Why the hell didn’t Katsuki fix it?

You curiously, but cautiously wiped the glass with the edge of your shirt.

What was revealed was the first picture the you and Bakugou had ever taken together. He was tied to a pole with a muzzle on at the U.A. sports festival award ceremony your freshman year. You had been standing next to him as he stood on the first-place podium on your very own third pace spot.

The memory quickly flooded into your mind.

That day when you fought him was the first time that he had ever acknowledged you. He actually congratulated you in his own way you supposed. He told you that you put up a really good fight. You couldn’t help but to shake your head at the recollection as a smile dared to pull the corner of your lips up.

“Y/N?�� A loud, rough voice caused you to jump suddenly before you whipped yourself around. What you saw surprised you,

Katsuki? But he’s not even supposed to be here! Especially with bloodied bandages placed throughout his scratched up body!!

He looked just as surprised as you, “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed.

“That’s my line, you ass! I thought you were in the hospital!” you cried out as you hurriedly dropped the frame into a bag you had been using to gather some of your things.

“I’m fine,” he quickly readjusted his face from the previously shocked expression, “They’re crazy if they thought I was gonna stay overnight.”

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you shook your head in disappointment.

“What?!” he barked.

You simply continued to shake your head as you attempted to rush past him, “Nothing. I’m leaving.”

“Wait! Don’t,” he suddenly reached out to grab you but you harshly shrugged him away before sending a glare at him,

“Why? Have something to say?” Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t reached out to you in all of this time. Not since the day everything went down. But then again, he hardly talked with you when you lived together, so why would he even bother speaking to you after you broke up.

Still, a piece of you yearned for him to care about you enough to speak up as you searched his eyes for an ounce of affection. You saw none—just hurt and a splash of his usual flavor of rage.  

“That’s what I thought,” your voice surprisingly croaked as you spoke. You turned away from him and began to walkaway, halting as he called out to you once more,

“You and Icyhot? REALLY?” he roared behind you, “I bet you were just waiting on me to fuck up so you’d have an excuse to crawl back to him, weren’t you?”

You whipped yourself back to furiously scowl at him. Of course that’s the first thing he wants to talk about after all this time, “You have zero right to judge me for moving on quickly even if I was fucking him!”

“So you’re not?!” he didn’t sound very convinced as he stormed up to you.

“Bakugou, that’s none of your business!” you didn’t back away as you challenge him. He hated it when you used his last name, “So what if I am?!” you exclaimed as tears pricked the backs of your eyes.

“I gave you a damned ring—we were getting married next fucking month!!” as his voice cracked your eyes were drawn to his arms that he intensely held on either side of him. His hands were quietly quivering in rage as he continued, “Of course it’s my fucking business!”

You snapped back regardless of his dangerously pissed off state. He is still trying to defend himself like he did nothing wrong after all this fucking time, “I gave you my ENTIRE being Katsuki!! I gave you my trust and my whole heart and everything else I could muster up and more!!!” You screamed at the top of your voice. Tears freely rolled down your tired cheeks at this point,

“So fucking what if you gave me a hunk of metal with a few gems?! What else did you give me? Huh?! What else did you offer up to me? Affection? Consideration? Loyalty??” your voice heavily cracked on the last word as you stared at the seemingly unphased man in front of you.

He held a glare as if it were permanently plastered onto his expression, yet he didn’t say anything in return, so you continued speaking after shakily gathering up a spare breath,  “God, I still think about you in practically everything that I do…” you cried as you pathetically stared at the ground in front of you. Bakugou’s fierce red eyes continued to burn holes into your image as you spoke,

“…but you probably only care that some other man is stomping around on your territory. You haven’t even reached out to me past the initial weekend when shit hit the fan,” you looked back up to see him still glaring at you intensely. You couldn’t tell if he was judging you or if he hated you. Probably a mix of the two.

What a condescending asshole.

“What?! Stop fucking looking at me! Say something dammit!” you pushed him away from you and was surprised by how good it felt, “Anything!!” you pleaded as you pushed him back again towards the living room.

He still said nothing as he threw his glare away from you and toward the ground. You groaned in annoyance before shoving him back again. Why was he always so damn quiet when you actually wanted him to speak up?

“Fight me back, dammit!” you didn’t even care that you sounded like him anymore. Maybe it’s what he wanted from you the entire time as his mastermind meticulously chipped away at the persona that you had been building all of your life. Well, if it’s what he wanted, you would be more than happy to oblige in this case, “You like to pick fights don’t you?!” you screamed as you used your entire body and shoved him once last time, actually tripping him.

The two of you fell and you toppled on top of him as your tears transformed into sobs, “Just do something, you grimy ass bastard! I know you want to!” you weakly pounded against his chest as sobs continued to tear themselves from your throat.

Bakugou truthfully had no words to speak as he watched your heartbroken form collapse on his chest.

He wanted so desperately to say something.

He wanted to tell you everything that he was feeling, and more than anything he wanted to hold you close to him and comfort you.

But it was as If something in the fibers of his being stopped him from doing so as you laid broken on top of him.

It had always been that way with you.

Every time he had opened his mouth to say something affectionate to you, something vile and downright disrespectful would fly out instead. Every time he wanted to reach out to you and touch you gently, all of the wrong muscles spasmed and he would do something completely erroneous.

It had been easier to neglect you at the time, rather than face you and hurt you, or fix himself even. But it was beyond fixing himself now.

Even so, he wanted to show you at least once that he was capable of doing something fucking right.

He owed you at least that.

He closed his eyes and he sharply grabbed your face and pressed it down onto his own as gently as he could. His hands were still shaking, not from anger as you had assumed, but from fear. He was terrified that you would completely abandon him without ever knowing how much he cared about you.

You whimpered into his mouth out of pure surprise as he continued to move his lips against your own, but you almost instantaneously settled down against him as relief surged throughout your body.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your being.

You found yourself kissing him back for only a moment more before you yanked yourself away from him, “No… no, no Katsuki….” You softly cried with wide eyes as you scooted away from him, “What are we doing!?”

“I know it’s over,” he said very flatly, “Between us, I mean.”

The sentence unexpectedly sent your heart falling deeply into your chest, “Wha—”

“Just shut up a moment and listen to me,” he interrupted you sharply. A thick silence enveloped the two of you for a beat as he seemed to internally kick himself for his harsh wording before he awkwardly shifted himself to sit next to you. His arms struggled to find their way around you as he lamely gathered you into his arms and pulled you close to him, “Just…. don’t look at me,” he grumbled, “I won’t be able to say the shit that I mean if you look.”

You couldn’t even find the time question what he had meant as he quickly continued,

“You... are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I didn’t always act like it, but it’s true, dammit. I know that I couldn’t show it to you. It’s like my mind and my body were split on what to do. I wanted to hold you like this every night, but my body just wouldn’t let me… It’s just so damn confusing,” he finished with a croak.

He shook his head at himself before continuing, “I should have fucking done it anyway. I should have woken up early to make you breakfast more than just the once. I should have worked less so you wouldn’t have to spend days without me. I should have given you that ring sooner. I never should have slept with that woman. Drunk or not—but that goes without saying. I am so sorry, Y/N. You did not deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but to look up at him, but your heart broke as you saw heavy tears falling from his eyes.

He could feel your eyes on him but he found the resolve to continue regardless, “Anyway, I know it’s over now. I can feel it. What we had is over,” he fought himself from sobbing, “I’ll never see that ring on you again, and I don’t deserve to either. I didn’t deserve a lot of things I got growing up, but I definitely didn’t deserve you,” he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, “I don’t think I can change who I am to be what you need me to be. You deserve more than what I can give you right now. And....” he tried to pull the words out of himself, “if Half n’ Half can do it, then I should let you go that way.”

He sighed. You weren’t sure if you had ever heard him sigh before. It shocked you as he continued, “I used to think you were keeping me from winning, and I was stupid to think that,” he rested his head on top of yours, “I’m just dragging you down onto my level at this point,” he shook his head, “but I won’t let that shit happen,” he finally dropped his face to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you before pressing a painful kiss onto your forehead.

Was this even the same man you had known for almost half of your life?

“I-I love you too. I really do,” you stuttered as astonishment enveloped your body. The two of you sat in a bittersweet silence for a few moments before his gruff, substantially more put together voiced sounded once more,

“As much I hate to say this,” he lowly began as he moved you over and stood up, “you should go,” he held a hand to you to help you up.

Your hand faltered toward his own before you reluctantly accepted his gesture, doubts filling you mind. Bakugou, ever perceptive, noticed your reluctance and immediately cleared the air as he opened the front door for you,

“If Mismatch ever treats you half as bad as I did, I will set him on fire,” he lowly stated. The Bakugou you grew up with suddenly reappeared.

“He has a fire quirk… I don’t think that will work,” you tried to joke, but honestly your heart was hurting so much.

“Fucking watch me,” he smiled at you.

Genuinely smiled.

Your heart melted at the rare scene in front of you and your weak legs could barely make it out of the door.

After moments of staring at each other, you returned a small, sad smile at him before you walked out of the apartment and shut the door behind you.

What... just happened? You turned back around to face the door and placed your hand on the knob. You let it sit for a moment before you slowly retracted it, cursing under your breath.

On the other side, Bakugou knew that he had made the correct decision letting you go to Todoroki, but the pain in his heart begged him to follow after you.

However, the doubts and reluctance to do so further solidified his decision. He wasn’t ready to be the man you needed. Yet.

He had a lot of maturing to do before he could truly love his soulmate.

Soulmate.

The thought sent flutters into his worn down heart.

A reminder of the faith that he had that you two would find your way back to each other one day.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Seeing as I don’t have a job right now (one week furlough), I managed to get a lot of writing for Saffron and Sage done today. Now I feel good! Time to ruin that with a Homestuck 2 Liveblog! Last time: Jade kidnapped “Yiffy”, much to Jane’s distress! No time for that, though, as we’re back with the Candyland Kids. 

HARRY: vrissy, i know this is a stressful predicament but i think that's going too far. HARRY: my dad believes in us. HARRY: and if he thinks there's something we can do, then there has to be a way!

Kind of interesting that Harry holds his dad’s opinion in such high esteem, considering that his dad has been AWOL pretty much his whole life.

TAVROS: Uncle john isn't to blame for this,,, HARRY: yeah, no shit tav. HARRY: this whole situation is because of YOUR insane hitlermom.

How the hell does Harry Anderson know who Hitler is? When did that conversation come up? This is a completely different universe! 

TAVROS: Is less sincere,,, than it is,,, an attempt to weaponize something difficult for me, TAVROS: In order that you can win an argument,,, with harry anderson,,,,, VRISKA: GRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! VRISKA: WILL YOU ALL JUST VRISKA: SHUT!!!!!!!! VRISKA: UP!!!!!!!!

A good example of why characters like John, Jade, Vriska, and sometimes Karkat are important in Homestuck or in stories generally. They actually do shit. 

VRISKA: Neither you nor your friends have anything really important going on. VRISKA: Your lives and your planet are a total 8ore! VRISKA: 8ut somehow John loves you anyway. VRISKA: Try and be fucking gr8ful for that every once in a while. VRISKA: Not everyone is so lucky.

Vriska please do not be pining for middle-aged John Egbert. You have literally half a dozen semi-official love interests (John, Terezi, Eridan, Tavros, Meenah and Kanaya), please don’t pick the one old enough to be your dad. It was already weird enough when Adult John got hot and bothered by teen Roxy in the epilogues, to say nothing of you fucking a middle-aged homeless clown in a bush.  

thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG]

Oh, fuck you, Homestuck. It’s bad enough that Harry and Dave are both going to be referred to as “TG” in chatlogs, but now Vrissy and Vriska are both AG and have the same font color! 

TG: i've allocated the strife specibus with the scissorkind abstratus? TG: hm. TG: using this weird vocab and stuff feels... well, weird. TG: i'm not sure why, but it seems as though everything that's about to happen is that much more important now. TG: or maybe it already was, but i just didn't understand just how important until this moment.

One issue with wearing your metaphor on your sleeve as much as Homestuck 2 does is that thematically important lines become really obvious. 

I like how the triangle-shaped panel around Vriska escaping the crowd by simply walking into it is reminiscent of a magic 8-ball. That’s clever! 

VRISKA: Your society... no, your whole planet... it deserves to 8urn str8 to MEGAhell, and I'm gonna 8e the one to fly it there! VRISKA: I'm gonna shatter your paradise into pieces with my 8are hands and SHIT IN ITS GRAVE!!!!!!!! VRISKA: HOW'S THAT FOR A FUCKING ST8MENT! VRISKA: YOU GOT ALL THAT, JANE CROCKER? VRISKA: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT'S COMING FOR YOU???????? VRISKA: YOU'VE MESSED WITH VRISKA: ********VRISKA******** VRISKA: ****FUUUUUUUUCKING**** VRISKA: ********SERK8T********

There’s some extreme Dungeons and Dragons energy here, where Vriska’s plan to escape a mob of reporters working for a totalitarian dictatorship run by literal gods is to simply walk outside and publicly declare her intent to destroy the world as punishment for its sins. 

And yeah, this is how that plan usually works in DnD, too.

Man, the next page is a wall of text, whereas in old Homestuck this’d be an animation. I get “fair wages” and “small budget”, but is still feels weird to see a big Strife scene merely get described with boring-ass words.

Fearing gunfire, the few paparazzi who aren't currently getting their asses handed to them by the world's angriest traffic cone start to trip over each other, diving for cover.

The world’s angriest traffic cone.

Far away, in her lair, Jane Crocker grabs the two sides of her computer monitor with enough strength to snap it in two. She can't believe what she's watching. Behind her, from a shadowy corner of the room, there is an agitated growling noise and the rattle of chains.

Is that Yiffy? Is Yiffy an animal? Please tell me Yiffy is not a person that Jade named Yiffy. 

....Actually, please tell me that Yiffy isn’t an animal Jade named Yiffy that is Jade’s child via sex with another animal that might be my breaking point.

Vriska alights on the ground, rakes her throat, quietly spits out a little wad of blue, and wipes her mouth unceremoniously. Tavros pats Harry Anderson tentatively on the arm. Vrissy tries to be badass and cough up something too but she doesn't really make it work.  

Vrissy::Vriska Vriska::Mindfang

It’s weird that John’s sprite is the same even though he’s middle aged now, but I like that his God Tier outfit doesn’t fit any more. Isn’t it magical? Ahh, who cares.

JOHN: this old thing is pretty uncomfortable in a lot of ways. JOHN: hm... JOHN: when we get a moment, maybe the two of us could brainstorm a redesign? JOHN: no pressure though. HARRY: !!!

Oh, that’s why! That’s cute. 

JADE: theres something i need to tell you

don’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadog

JADE: john... i have a daughter JADE: shes almost harry andersons age JOHN: ... JOHN: ... JOHN: you have a daughter.

Named Yiffy?

ROSE: It was at this point that Jade came to me. ROSE: I could understand her pain quite acutely, and so... ROSE: I agreed to carry a child on her behalf. KANAYA: . ROSE: ... Without telling Kanaya.

Without-

Kanaya is your WIFE. You LIVE WITH HER. Even ignoring the question of why you’d keep 9 months of pregnancy from your wife, how? Kanaya would have been living with humans for years at that point and she’s literally in charge of reproduction don’t tell me she thought Rose just got fat for a while and then lost the weight really fast. 

ROSE: I'm... not sure why I made that decision. ROSE: I regret not telling Kanaya, of course. ROSE: But I can't say that I regret going through with it. ROSE: At the time, it didn't feel as though the deception was even all that prolonged. The whole affair was... short. ROSE: Purely physical, and nothing more.

ROSE: John, there isn't a father. ROSE: Jade and I are the sole parents of this child. JOHN: oh. JOHN: ... JOHN: OH. JOHN: oh i'm so sorry, i didn't th- ROSE: That's quite alright John, although you might like to direct that apology more towards your sister. ROSE: All I will say is that if you would like to take up the particulars with us, ROSE: Some *other* time, 

Actually, if John doesn’t know that Jade has a male dog’s genitals due to a fusion accident, I’d love to know what that all-caps OH means. What does he think happened, that Jade and Rose managed to have a baby? 

JOHN: so... how did you hide the pregnancy? ROSE: Oh, that was simple. ROSE: Jade's genes being, as they are, part canine, the gestation period was substantially reduced.

OH NO 

Yiffy is literally a furry, isn’t she? Moreso that Jade, she’s a full-on “Can be naked onscreen and it’s okay because she’s covered in fur” dog girl.

JOHN: i think i understand everything so f VRISSY: WAIT!!!!!!!! VRISSY: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME VRISSY: NOT ONLY DO I H8VE A SISTER VRISSY: 8UT YOU NAMED VRISSY: YOUR ****SECRET CHILD**** VRISSY: ********YIFFY********????????

Vrissy makes an excellent point. 

ROSE: We didn't call her Yiffy. ROSE: That would be a quite ridiculous thing with which to burden a child. ROSE: Her full name is Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley.

Vrissy looks as though she is about to shit the belltower they are standing in, brick by brick.

ROSE: It was, in hindsight, a monumentally terrible decision acting as the final chapter in a long series of novels, each one full of progressively more terrible decisions than the last. ROSE: But that is the name that we decided upon.

Oh, wait a second. Vriska changed Vriska Maryam-Lalonde to Vrissy, and changed Harry Anderson to just Harry. So obviously she’s going to rename Yiffy to literally anything else, then rename Tavros, and then we’ve got a new set of four kids as Vriska leaves to do something else. That’s what going to happen, right? Right? Please? 

ROSE: You have to understand... this whole situation ended up playing out a bit like an ironic game of chicken between the two of us. ROSE: Something that far outstripped anything that the Strider fraternity could have produced in their wildest, most jpegged creative wet dreams. ROSE: But in the end that triumph of irony came back to bite us in the fucking ass, as irony is wont to do. ROSE: There was absolutely no possibility of us casually letting you all know that, by the way, we had had a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking. ROSE: At least, not right away. ROSE: But carapacian change-of-name paperwork is so complex and circuitous that, eventually, keeping quiet forever just seemed like the more reasonable option.

This is, even for Homestuck, monumentally stupid. You named your daughter Yiffany Longstocking as a joke and then kept the child secret because you were embarrassed. You two are awful fucking parents. You are the worst parents in the entire series, and that includes Bro Strider and the spider that made Vriska feed it children. 

And we’re literally at the point where the writing is bad and the joke is how bad the writing is. This isn’t enjoyable to read; you can’t make a bad B-movie My Immortal fanfic on purpose.  

Even now, Yiffy is likely being held at spoonpoint

I feel like “Jade and Rose have a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking” can be a joke or it can be drama but maybe not both at the same time. 

[christ0pher-evans]

Never Ever

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, edging / angst / dom mentions 

A/N: This one shot has been on my brain for ages and I couldn’t get it all down on paper quick enough, apologies for the length, I just couldn’t stop writing. I’m not even sure I like this but I’m posting it because it took forever! This is based on Taylor Swifts ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’ ENJOY.  Please reblog and like🖤

(4.7k words)

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“We hadn’t seen each other in a month, when you said you needed space”

Two years. Two exclusive years on the arm of Hugh Ransom Drysdale. When you first met Ransom, naturally, you never thought that he would be someone who wanted to settle down, or that you would be the person he would want to settle down with. He was boisterous, self-centred and just obscenely rude but not with you, no matter what attitude he gave you, you gave it right back, showing that Ransom had finally met his perfect match. You were both such similar people and you truly believed that it was what bought you together, even though the universe tries to tell you that opposites attract. In life, you are conditioned to believe that there is a soulmate somewhere on the planet for you, and bizarrely you were starting to believe Ransom was just that, your soulmate.

You both had such loud personalities, insatiable sex drives and unmatched confidence; all reasons why you suited so well. However you both also had very demanding jobs, which meant it was often difficult to make time for one another. You didn’t live with Ransom therefore actually seeing each other in person was a challenge, but it never seemed too problematic because you were always on the phone or at least texting. At times, you were both guilty of being too busy for one another but you were deemed such a strong couple as well as independent individuals that it had never worried you. However, that didn’t stop your current excitement as you unlocked Ransom’s front door and let yourself into his place after a whole month apart. You hung your coat on the rack, removed your shoes and placed your bag on the table before looking through the open plan kitchen/living area, trying to locate Ransom.  “Babe! Where are you? Sorry I’m late, work was hectic!”, you shouted awaiting a reply but there was only silence. You simply shrugged and made your way into the kitchen, helping yourself to a generous glass of wine, well deserved after your busy week. With your back to the room and your gaze preoccupied out the kitchen window at the autumn leaves, you felt Ransoms arms around your waist before you saw him. He gave you a tight squeeze, mumbling in your ear, “God, I missed you angel."

It wasn’t long before Ransom was carrying you over to the sofa, gently throwing you down onto it and admiring his view. Looking up at him, you could see dark circles under his eyes from working too much and frown lines from always carrying such an attitude but you could also see the softest smile as he held his gaze on you. You kept your eyes on each other, fidgeting slightly at the anticipation and breathing heavily at the sexual tension in the air, wondering who would make the first move.  “I am going to devour you angel. Almost forgot what you tasted like, its been so long”, you bit your lip as the words rolled off his tongue, instantly turned on by them. You rolled your eyes as Ransom held still, watching him as he waited for you to make the first move, wanting to see you submit control and beg for him. Around Ransom you never held your nerve long, so giving in and pulling him on top of you on the sofa was the quickest way to get what you desired. His hands falling to either side of your head, you were now kissing with such desperation with tongues and teeth attacking one another anywhere they could; lips, neck, chest. Ransom sat you up so he could unzip your dress, pulling it off of you with no care, then pulled his own top over his head and discarded it on the floor with your dress before stealing your lips in another passionate kiss. You felt totally weak under his grip, simply letting him do whatever he pleased with you. He pushed you back and started trailing kisses down your body towards your core, removing your panties whilst you were distracted by his lips. Before you could even catch your breath, he was devouring you like he had promised. His mouth felt like it was over every inch of your core, fingers teasingly dipping in and out of your hole and it was barely minutes before you were cumming all over his fingers and face, moaning so loudly you were sure anyone within a 10 mile radius would hear you.

“Fuck Ransom! I swear you get better at that every time!”, you panted as he stared at you with a cocky grin whilst leaning back on the sofa, licking his fingers clean.  “Well I think I deserve a reward, wouldn’t you say angel?”, you sat up and just smirked at him. “I’d hurry up and get on your knees if I were you”, by using his threatening tone, he knew you’d do anything for him, so you stood up on shaky legs, still reeling from your orgasm. You knelt before him, opening your mouth delicately and letting Ransom bring his cock to you, giving him another rush of domination. He constantly liked to be in charge of you and you had no qualms with it when he had that orgasmic look on his face whilst he fucked your mouth. He reached forward, placing his hand on the back of your head, pushing you all the way down on his cock, drawing an immediate gag from you.  “That is honestly the sweetest god damn sound on this planet!”, you looked up as he spoke and fluttered your eyes seductively as his thrusts started to pull tears from your eyes at the intensity that he was forcing himself down your throat with. 

Some time later and you were both laying naked on the sofa, blanket lazily thrown over your nestled bodies whilst some trash TV played in the background. You were tracing patterns on Ransom’s back, absentmindedly wondering how long it would be before Ransom whisked you upstairs to bed for a whole night of obscene i missed you sex. You were so distracted by your thoughts that you almost missed the words he whispered softly against your chest. 

“I need space..”, you started shuffling away slightly, observing his request. 

“Sorry baby, I thought you were comfy!”, a weak smile graced Ransoms face before he repeated himself, but slower and with more emphasis. “No, I need space..”, you raised an eyebrow confused, “..space, from us.” 

You were absolutely dumbfounded by what Ransom was saying, certain you were misunderstanding, “What do you mean?”. He just looked at you and kept quiet, not even offering a further explanation as to why he had invited you here, had his wicked way with you before telling you he wanted space from your committed relationship. As if on impulse, you started to get dressed to leave, not wanting to spend another minute around him. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave”, that was when you saw red.  “Like fuck I don’t!! We haven’t seen each other in like a month, I come here excited to see you, then you get your fucking dick wet before telling me you need some space! Space from what? Our relationship might as well be long distance at this point, now you need more space from me! Fuck you Ransom, you absolute chickenhearted piece of shit!”, you didn’t even look back as you stormed out of his place, before getting in your car and speeding off without giving him another look. All you could remember was screaming in anger and confusion as you drove all the way back to the comfort of your own bed. 

“Baby, I miss you and I swear I’m gonna change, trust me” Remember how that lasted for a day?

It had barely been two days since you left Ransom’s the evening he told you he needed space and you were still pretty pissed with what happened. You were still in shock that he has asked for space and still hadn’t tried to contact you to at least explain himself. Assuming you were broken up and he was getting his dick wet elsewhere was the only reason you could tell your brain that he wouldn’t want to be with you anymore, the thought of anything else upset you stupid amounts.  2am and you were laying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get some sleep without dreaming of Ransom and his hands all over your body, you were physically craving him. From the moment you slept with Ransom, you knew he had ruined you for all other men, it was obvious no one could be better than him sexually. Your phone started vibrating and it snapped you out of your tormenting fantasy. Looking over at your phone, you saw Ransoms name and had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t actually in some twisted dream, but his name really was there and he really was calling you at 2am. 

“Ransom, why are you calling me?”, you answered harshly but were quickly silenced by the blaring music and mumbled voices coming through your speaker. 

“Y/N, angel, please don’t hang up!” You could almost smell the amount of whiskey he must have consumed through the phone, his voice stumbling over every word he spoke. 

“I miss you. You’re so fucking sexy. The things I would do to you right now. I love you. I shouldn’t have told you I needed space. I’m gonna change, just for you, trust me. Fuck, I love you!”, he rambled on and on and you kept telling yourself that he didn’t mean any of it, he was too fucked up to remember any of this tomorrow anyway. You just disconnected the call, throwing your phone back onto the bedside table and hiding under your duvet, hoping that sleep would consume you soon. 

You awoke early on Saturday morning, groaning as you saw it was only 9am. After the week you had endured, you were hoping to sleep till at least midday. Deciding that you definitely couldn’t get back to sleep, you settled on a relaxing bubble bath that might at least help towards an afternoon nap later. After an excessive self-care morning, you were dancing around the kitchen in your sweats, making an extremely late brunch. By the time you’d cleaned up the kitchen, it was pushing towards 2pm and you settled on a movie day. Halfway through ‘Mamma Mia’, you were rudely interrupted by the doorbell. You weren’t expecting anyone so when you opened the door and saw Ransom with the biggest bunch of your favourite flowers, you couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t let him straight in, your back still up about the past couple of days. Ransom was clearly nervous, his body language oozing with guilt and you started to wonder if he really did feel terrible about what happened between you both.  “Y/N, my angel. I’m so sorry about the way I called you last night but I’m not sorry about what I said, I meant every word..”, bewildered was the only way to describe your demeanour because it was so unlike Ransom to share his feelings with you, but here he was in front of you, baring his soul. You hesitantly let him in, quickly noticing the bag full of treats hidden behind his back as you both walked awkwardly to the kitchen. Watching Ransom pull out all your favourite snacks, you favourite bottle of wine and put the flowers in a vase, you could really feel yourself starting to believe that he was sorry, pondering if it was just a momentary freak out the other day. 

You had slipped right back into relationship territory with Ransom that afternoon; chatting, laughing, eating. Ransom was feeding you chocolate covered strawberries, often caressing your cheek or running his fingers through your hair whilst he listened to every word you spoke and simply looking at you with such love and adoration. It might have been the couple of glasses of wine you’d drunk or the endless intimate touches from Ransom but you had never wanted him more than in this moment, your mind and body plagued with your carnal needs. 

Hours had passed and it was fully dark outside, possibly into the early hours of the morning but you were still writhing under Ransom, an endless span of almosts as he continued edging you until you were completely his. “Ran, please, I can’t..”, you whimpered as he thrust back into you for what felt like the thousandth time with no release, every part of your body screaming with sensitivity. He just smirked at you and continued at his relentless pace that made you believe he was finally going to let you cum, but stilling immediately as you started to clench around him. Panting, he nibbled on your ear before mumbling seductively, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re begging for me, begging for my cock!”, and then you snapped. You mustered every physical fragment of strength you could to push against Ransoms chest, flipping you over so you were straddling him, pushing your hands against his chest to hold yourself up to try and assert some facade of dominance. Yet, whimpers were falling from your mouth as his cock reached deeper inside you, your legs shaking with complete exhaustion that still proved that Ransom had complete control over you. 

Ransom could only look up at you in awe but also a new height of desire, “Fuck angel, that’s it. I want to see you make yourself cum all over my cock!”

Hearing his words, it didn’t take long for you to build back up to the edge, riding Ransom like your life depended on it. He still had control over your movements, gripping your hips and grinding them into him so you could feel every vein on his impressive cock. Lifting you up slightly so he could start pounding up into you, it didn’t take long before you were coming undone over him. Your legs were shaking, screams of pure adrenaline leaving you and eyes rolling back in your head as your overwhelming orgasm lingered. Ransom growled, bringing you back to some semblance of reality, indicating he was close to meeting his own orgasm. He looked up at you like there was no one else in the world he would want to be with, as he held you from collapsing into his chest, still violently thrusting up into you to reach his peak. Every inch of you body felt like it was burning all over again, an onslaught of euphoric pleasure heading straight back to your core as you clenched around him, “Shit angel, are you going to cum for me again?” Your eyes rolled back again as you felt your second orgasm approaching, not even confident your body could take anymore, “Ran, baby, please..” You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore but somehow he knew exactly what you needed. He pulled your body down to him, your lips smashing together sloppily as he thrusted fiercely one final time before grinding your body over his continuously till you were both cumming together, a magical romanticism to the detached feeling you had from your body. 

As you were falling asleep, completely exhausted from the ethereal feelings and emotions you’d experienced over the past few hours with Ransom, your body sometimes still twitching from pleasure, you felt him pull you into his body and whisper how much he loved you and you truly felt whole again. 

Waking up the next morning, before you felt anything else, you felt sore, fully spent in the most glorious way and you were smiling at the thought of another day in bed with Ransom before you’d even opened your eyes. As you carefully stretched out, you noticed the emptiness and blanket of cold in your bed and wondered where Ransom was. Upon opening your eyes, you immediately felt the void atmosphere of your house, the stillness of the buzz and the nothingness in your heart. You knew in that moment, Ransom was gone and you had been used like a meaningless one night stand. 

“We called it off again last night”

You were never a girl that pined after a guy but you had spent the past three day trying to contact Ransom. After that blissful day and night you spent together, where you fully opened up to one another physically and emotionally, you truly believed that you had something special that neither of you wanted to jeopardise. You knew that Ransom was hesitant about the commitment but with your support, he saw how the idea of having someone by your side forever was amazing.  Ransom was yet to pick up one of your calls but all you wanted was answers, you deserved that. So without much deliberation, you turned up at his place one evening after work. You knocked on the door with intention, but your body screamed nervousness. Fidgeting on the spot, partially from the cold but also because you were anxious and didn’t know what would happen once Ransom opened the door. The door soon whipped open with an annoyed looking Ransom on the other side, but as soon as his eyes landed on you, they softened. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”, you twirled the ends of your hair round your fingers, a nervous habit you recently picked up and all anger dissipated from your body, deciding a shouting match wasn’t the best method of attack. 

“Um, I was hoping we could talk?”, and without even hesitating, he was letting you in and leading you into the familiar kitchen. Sitting with a glass of wine opposite Ransom at the breakfast bar, you started running your finger round the rim of the glass and wondering where to start with this awkward conversation. 

“So I just wanted to talk about us. I want to know why you left before I woke up the other morning?”, you held a straight face trying to appear confident, you wanted answers but you also wanted him to know that you weren’t here for a fight. 

“You know, you’ve always looked like such an angel when you slept, that’s why I started calling you that..”, he absentmindedly confessed. You were swooning inside at his words, but tried to keep your composure before continuing, “Ran, I'm serious..” For at least 20 minutes, it was back and forth tediously, you were trying to ask him serious questions whilst he cleverly avoided them but spoke about you like you were a literal goddess sent from heaven for him to worship. You were avoiding your glass of wine to keep a clear head, deciding upon a different approach to try and get Ransom to open up, showing him your commitment to the relationship, “Ransom..”, he looked into your eyes with enchantment. “You know how much I love you right?”, the look of softness had rapidly turned into a look of desire. Before you could say another word, Ransom had lifted you off the stool and pinned you up against the closest wall, his mouth forcing itself on yours, battling for your submission. His passion was infectious and you couldn’t help but give in, channelling your love into your touches and kisses, showing him exactly how you felt. Whilst your lips were fighting for some feign of dominance, your hands were clawing at the bottom of his top, wanting to cling onto any trace of intimacy between you. With one of his arms keeping you pinned to the wall and the other trailing down your body towards where you craved him, you could feel his moans vibrating through your body and his cock starting to push against your clothes. Palming him through his sweats, you matched his moans with the thought of where this was leading, biting his lip to convey you were ready to take this further. 

“Oh angel, this new arrangement we’ve got is way better!”, he mumbled so faintly against your lips that it almost went unnoticed, but you knew what you heard, loud and clear Ransom was telling you that being friends with benefits was much better than your committed relationship. Completely humiliated, you were pushing him away from you and erasing any ounce of his touch from your skin. 

“Y/N, what the fuck!”, Ransom began to approach you again like he was going to punish you in the most delicious way but you shook your head and stepped away from him, eager to get out of there. 

“You.. Ransom, what the fuck! You..”, struggling to speak without crying, you took a deep breath before looking him dead in the eye, no emotion on your face. “Does our relationship really mean that little to you? Do I really mean that little to you? You’ve strung me along for a week just so you could keep getting your dick wet! You don’t deserve me, you don’t deserve my love! You fucking prick!”, you can’t even bare to give him a second look once you start walking towards the door, desperate to rid yourself of him permanently. The last thing you heard was Ransom yelling something incoherent as you slammed the door behind you. 

“I’m really gonna miss you picking fights, and me falling for it, screaming that I’m right”

“Ran, don’t be ridiculous! He wasn’t even paying attention to me, he was our waiter for crying out loud!”, you slumped down on the sofa as you stormed into his place after a gorgeous meal at your favourite restaurant, celebrating your one year anniversary. Ransom was quick in the door behind you, throwing his jacket over the arm of the sofa in a huff before sitting down next to you. “Oh please Y/N, don’t be so ignorant! You knew he was looking at you and you were enjoying it, I saw you smiling at him as he poured you more wine!”, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his bizarre perspective on your politeness towards your server. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as his stupidity, “Babe, I was just being polite. You know I only want to be with you. You’d think that was pretty obvious with the way you were strutting around the restaurant with my panties hanging out your trouser pocket!” Now it was Ransoms turn to laugh, looking down towards the deep blue lace peaking out the pocket of his trousers, a pretty obvious attempt at dominance. You sat up quickly and snatched your panties out of his pocket, chucking them on the floor in annoyance, initially you thought it was sexy that he wanted to show everyone you belonged to him, but now it just seemed like a pathetic bid at control. 

“I don’t want to argue about this Ran. I’m my own person and you can’t control my interactions with other human beings just because you think you own me!”, you huffed, standing up frustrated at his misogynistic view. “If you can’t see that I love you and want to be with only you, then I just can’t be fucked with your insecure ass!”, you huffed again, annoyed at the look of smugness he was giving you as you shouted at him, throwing your arms about in irritation. 

“Oh angel, you are so fucking sexy when you’re angry..”, again you rolled your eyes at his playfulness during a serious conversation, but quickly understood he was just saying all this to get a rise out of you, to wind you up to the point of frustration so he could make it up to you in whatever way he wanted. Before you’d even calmed down, he was pulling you over his lap, smoothing his hand over your ass before slowing trailing it down your leg to the seam of your dress and pulling it back up to expose your bare backside. 

“You’re mine Y/N, every part of you is mine and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I never want another man to look at you, because I only ever want you to look at me!”, and even in your compromising position, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at Ransoms admission of pure devotion to you. 

“However, now, I think you need punishing for the way you spoke to me, what do you think angel?” All you could do was bite your lip and nod your head, already anticipating the first spanking. Ransom was running his hands over your ass, dipping down into your dripping core every now and again, pulling whimpers from your lips. When the first spank came, you squealed in gratifying pain and awaited the second. 

“What do you say angel?”, he fingers dipping back towards your core, “T-thank you sir.” You were wriggling around over his lap, prompting Ransom to hurry up but also to create some friction over his trousers, feeling the stir of his cock pushing into your stomach. “Please, Ransom, again..” *SMACK*

You startled awake as you heard a crash, quickly sitting up on the sofa and looking around, noticing your phone had dropped onto the wood floor. You sighed and wiped the layer of sweat on your forehead, realising you were dreaming about Ransom, wondering if it meant anything or if it was just your heart beginning to heal from the pain. Smiling lightly at the fond memory, you picked your phone up, unlocking it and bringing up Ransoms name in your contacts, intent on deleting his number. It had only been a week since you left Ransom but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, still not ready to admit defeat on your relationship.

“So he calls me up and he's like ‘I still love you’, I mean this is exhausting, you know?”

A month had passed and you had fully submerged yourself into work, your business thriving and your heart sort of on the mend from Ransom. You knew it would be a long road because you had spent two years of your life deeply in love with him, but it felt like the chains around your heart were finally loosening and you could breathe without constant hurt. You were determined to come out of this a new person. You were heading home from work on time, ready to try and make a new lasagne recipe you had seen online. Once you were set up in your kitchen, you opened the recipe on your phone and began to chop vegetables. You were entirely focused, welcoming the soft music flowing through the house until your phone startled you out of your bubble. You wiped your hands dry quickly before picking up your phone to see who was calling, your whole body freezing at the name on the screen -Ransom- Debating whether it was a smart idea to answer, you realised you would be just as bad as Ransom if you didn’t pick up. You took a deep breath before answering, leg twitching in anticipation of hearing his voice. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N”, your breath caught in your throat at the sound of his voice. 

“Hi Ran”, mentally, you cursed yourself for using his nickname. 

“I’m so happy you answered, I was worried you wouldn’t. It’s so good to hear your voice angel!”

“Well, I did. Is everything ok?”, you tried to sound tough, even though you were already weakening from his effortless flirting. 

“Yeah, everything is fine. Well not everything, I miss you.” You didn’t speak for a minute, completely taken aback by his words. 

“Angel, you still there?”

“Um, yeah sorry.. I’m here, just processing. You miss me? Even after everything that happened?”

“After everything, I miss you. I still love you. I fucking love you so much Y/N!” Your heart was doing somersaults, your breathing barely keeping up with your emotions but your head, your head was screaming at you to not go down this road again, to not let him knock back down the walls you’d only just built. What could you even say to him? Your soulmate, baring his heart to you again, but only after he tore it into a few thousand pieces.

“Ransom, this is exhausting..”

[zeldasayer]

Loving Din XI - Afterlife

Pairing: Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Din is hanging on by a thread but you can’t let this exquisite love just go to waste.

Warnings: ANGST. Language, confessions of hopelessness, mom & dad please don’t fight.

gif by @djjarindin

“After this, can it last another night? After all the bad advice that had nothing at all to do with life, I’ve gotta know -

Can we work it out?”

“How long has it been?”

“Since?” You ask the hologram of your therapist, Nora, in the living room, as you sit cross legged on the couch in a red sundress. You know what she’s asking but you need to hear her to say it. In case it hasn’t been true.

“Since Din moved out.” She clarifies.

“Just over five months.” You nod slowly, looking down to focus on your fidgeting fingers.

“Do you miss him?” The hologram asks.

“Only when I’m awake.” You smile meekly, your eyes still down. “Or when I’m asleep. Or eating. Or playing with Baby in the ocean.”

“Have you told him this?” She asks slowly.

“No.” You answer flatly.

“Why not?”

“I guess,” You sigh, finally looking up. “It ended so badly. I guess I’m scared he won’t feel the same.”

“Do you believe that to be true?”

“No, but I also never believed we’d be a part at all.”

“Obviously I cannot get into any details of our sessions, but Din is making the same progress as you and Baby.” Nora was your father’s trusted therapist and he was so graciously arranging for you and Din to see her separately and teaching Din tools in how to help Baby trust him again.

You smile, meaning it whole heartedly, and you look back down from the truth of your words. “I’m so glad. Even if we don’t work out, I’m happy he’s finally opening up to someone. He deserves the weight of his past lifted from him”

It got worse before it got better.

Your emptiness melted into rage as you realized you were truly alone. The man who you stood by and filled with hope while he found his place in the galaxy was nowhere to be found now that you’ve lost your way in it. Gone was the man who so softly declared you as the most exquisite woman to ever walk the planet, the most beautiful moon he’s ever known, who found strength in your decision to be delicate despite everything that happened to you and you hadn’t the slightest clue where he went. Din went quiet again. He became calculated, like he thought through every word he said before he said it, every movement before it was made - not to protect you but because he was tired of fighting. Like you, he retreated inward and only came out to help with Baby despite his frustrations. You were two children of existing, not living and you somehow wound up back there again.

You hoped every day that Din would see himself in you, that he’d realize this is what you had to do with him at the beginning, but the moment never came. You would’ve died to help Din find his identity beyond the mask, and now he sleeps with his back to you.

Some nights you wanted to reach out and touch him, trace your fingers along his back, just for the reminder that he is real. Maybe he’d wake and pull you close to him so you could trace your fingers along his chest and match your breathing to his and everything would feel like it used to. But something always held you back.

Din Djarin wasn’t a man who could handle losing control. What made it twice as hard was that he brought it on himself, and in the process crushed the one precious flower he swore he’d never hurt. How could he? The one human being who knew everything about him and didn’t even blink at what he was ashamed of. Who ran her fingers through his hair and told him she would keep him safe when he thought he’d be haunted for the rest of his life.

“We can only haunt ourselves.” You cooed to him before kissing his nose and he carried that sentiment with him everywhere. He believed it until now, for he cannot get the look in your eyes when you told him you were ready to become the ocean out of his mind. It’s burned into his brain and he knows he’s being haunted because he can’t make himself speak.

Din Djarin was the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy but he is too weak to tell the absolute love of his life that he is just as scared as her. That he is haunted every waking moment by how he destroyed their sanctuary, altering their lives forever. He wants to tell you that he sees you and that he’s sorry, that he wants to take the pain away and if he could, he’d feel it for you, but he doesn’t know how. Every familiar feeling of being touch starved, alone in the galaxy returns to him at once and he indulges in them in silence. Din never knew what he did to deserve you and just like he feared, it imploded. You were too good, too beautiful, delicate, loving, patient, ethereal and he ruined you with his dirty hands.

Most nights Din would sit up in the cockpit of the Razor Crest before returning to the bungalow so mad because you lied. We are haunted by more than just ourselves, we are haunted by the memories of the ones we love the most. Din smashed his fist into the dashboard. Once. Twice. Until something sparked because the memories won’t stop playing over in his head. You, smiling in his lap shortly after you met, pressing every button in the ship that would light up. Him snorting with laughter as he pulled you against him.

“You’re just like the kid!” He said into your neck and you giggled holding onto his arms.

“Teach me how to fly this thing, rocket man.” You beamed.

Your faces were younger then but you loved each other with such an unspeakable passion that you believed even then that it could never die. So how could he ever forgive himself for turning that dreamy look in your eye to stone? The same look that made him less afraid and so achingly happy to be alive. Especially when he has resorted to silence in a feeble effort to not make everything worse, for he sees himself in you. And all he wants to do is hold you by the shoulders and say “You are so much like me, I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t help anyone.

One evening when Din hadn’t return from his classes on time, you left Baby with a bowl of soup on the couch and snuck into your bedroom. Your heart raced as you sat on the ground, connecting the comm to your father.

“Hi d-ad.” Your voice cracked when you saw him.

“What’s wrong, my star?” He noticed right away.

“I don’t feel so good.” You said through ragged breath, bringing your hand to your eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“A little.” You said with a sniff, removing your hand and looking down. “I have all this pain. It’s crushing me, dad.”

Stark sits up and his eyes search you in worry, “Are you safe, my star?”

“Yes, dad. I’m safe.”

“Are you dreaming of the ocean again?”

“Yeah.” You said as tears stream down your face, as it can be so hard to be seen. “I feel like I’m suffocating. Like I’m not going to make it.”

“Where is Din?” he asked.

“Um.” Your lip trembles and now it feels like you may really be dying, “I don’t know if we’re going to make it either.”

Stark sighs. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shrug. “I don’t know who he is anymore. But I guess I don’t know who I am either. It’s like I miss him, but he’s always right there, like he’s part of what’s hurting me.”

Your father nods. “What can I do to help?”

“Do you still have Nora’s information?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you sniff, wiping your hand down your face. “Nothing is ever going to change if I keep running in circles, right?”

You look down as your eyes immediately well with tears again.

“I’m proud of you, my star. I promise, this is the hardest part. You can only go up from here.”

You nodded, starting to cry again.

“Madden & I shall leave at once. We will help you with Baby and I’ll set up a meeting between you and Nora. You are the brightest star in the sky and you will shine again, my child.”

“Thanks dad.” You cried. “Just not yet, okay? I haven’t even told Din yet.”

“Told him what?” He asked.

“That I need to do this on my own.”

Din did not take it lightly.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded and your attention turned to Baby who’s ears rose at his fathers angered voice.

“He’s going to throw you across the room again.” You said through your teeth.

“Right. Of course.” Din said, rubbing his eyes. “Should we go outside?”

“Fine.” You sighed. Din always took you outside when he was ready to fight. Baby couldn’t hear you over the crashing waves.

You followed him out the back door and he turns around as soon as it closed with you both on the other side, “You know this is so typical you.”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re always so fucking lonely yet you push everyone away.”

You laughed, “Oh that’s so rich coming from you, Din.”

“Is it?!” He nodded.

“Mr. I Don’t Need Anyone Until I’m About To Lose Fucking! Everything!” You seethed as your voice already felt hoarse.

“OH!” Din exclaims, “I’m going to lose everything huh?”

“If you don’t let me take care of myself, yes. LOOK AT ME.” You cry. “I’M A FUCKING GHOST. AND SO ARE YOU.”

“AT LEAST I WONT FUCKING WALK OUT ON YOU.”

“I’m not walking out on you!” You screeched, in a tone of your own voice you didn’t recognize. “What are you not understanding? Din, my head feels like it’s going to explode and you won’t help me so I need to do this myself.”

“Sorry I can’t help, we do have a son to raise.”

“What the fuck? Who are you?” You asked in disgust as you crossed your arms and walked past him.

You walked only a few steps until you decided to say exactly how you felt.

“Do you know what you were like when I found you?” You spat.

“I found you.” Din said lowly.

“It doesn’t matter. Loving you was like loving a brick wall. It was so hard, Din. But I did it. I helped you raise your son and I held your hand while you figured out who the hell you were. And I did it all without you telling me what you needed, and I figured it out because I loved you. I would have done anything for you. Now I’m standing here screaming to you what I need and you won’t fucking help me.”

“What do you want from me?!” Din asked, his arms out in defeat.

“Have you been listening to me?! Get out of my face and get out of my fucking house!” You screamed.

“Your house?!”

“You are not doing this shit with me right now. You have a ship and I make more credits on one goddamn painting than you do in months.” You scoffed.

“You haven’t painted anything good enough to sell in half a year!”

“Because you’re killing me, Din!” You cried back immediately. Slapping your hand across your mouth from the truth of the words you let escape. Your other hand comes up to cradle the first and they’re both shaking.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “This isn’t us.”

Din shakes his head slowly.

“Please Din, If you love me, you’ll let me do this.”

It was hard at first. Din and you agreed to four days at a time with Baby, Din living in Razor Crest on the other side of town. The first night you spent alone, you slept on the floor of Baby’s room. It was as far as you could crawl to when you told Din to “Just leave, he’s not going to stop.” and closed the door on him and your son who was crying for you.

It hurt to wake up to the quiet, to eat alone, paint alone. Your first session with Nora was even more of a disaster and you started to wonder if you made the right decision. The only thing you took away from it was her saying, “It hurts to become.” And this is what you chose to believe in, that this pain and uncertainty would be worth it. That when the rain washed you and Din clean, you’d know.

It hurt when Din wouldnt even look at you, how he didn’t even say a word when he first dropped off Baby. How you slid down the door and cried with Baby in your arms as he tried to heal something that he couldn’t.

But time keeps passing wether you’re ready or not and one day you just stop hurting. You don’t know why, or when the exact moment hits until you look up and you realize you’re breathing. You’re breathing and you’re sleeping through the night and it’s something to celebrate like a new born baby. You’re breathing and sleeping and eating properly. You can taste everything, your tea and pomegranates. Dark chocolate and crusty sourdough bread. You open up to Nora, finally and she takes you all the way back to your childhood. You’ve made your first friends as an adult and you realize how important that is, other women who live close by on the island and they are so wonderful. You’re painting, you’re painting incredible work and you’ve rearranged the whole house so it’s yours. Baby sleeps on his own and he’s happy, you’re in a routine and when Din comes to pick him up it doesn’t destroy you. Suddenly, you have a new normal. You are truly alright and you are so proud of yourself but something is missing. You still want to share every moment of your new normal with Din. Though you can get lost in your mind and it can scream so loud, there is stillness inside of you, every sunset you’ve ever seen and you were born to be a lover, and there is still only one person for you.

Later in the afternoon, long after your session with Nora, when you open the door for Din who’s back again to drop Baby off, you notice instantly that he has a beard. It’s patchy and it makes you smile, it looks soft and it’s greying at the sides and it makes you want to blurt out that you miss him. But you ask Baby how his day was instead.

“Wanna show mom what you learned?” Din asks his little green boy as he puts him in your arms, “Okay.”

Din makes a few small movements with his hands, and Baby copies them, slower and loose before looking up at you with a smile.

“It means ‘I love you.’” He mumbles, looking down.

You blink up at him and it feels like you must have forgotten how to breathe. It’s been so long since you heard those words pass through Din’s lips and it feels like the very first time.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, your voice almost a whisper.

He looks a little puzzled and you continue, “I made dinner.”

Din’s mouth presses into a line, like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah. I would.”

“I like this.” You say, brushing the back of your finger along his jaw, letting him pass through the doorway, “You’re greying.”

“You just noticed now?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, “I guess so.”

Din sits across from you at the table you dragged out on to the beach a few months earlier and it feels like just how you always wanted life on the island to be. Baby in your lap, cackling into his dinner as the ocean crashes softly into the shore. Din smiling between bites of food and the sun reflecting off his skin makes him look so beautiful. You feel the breeze against your face and you want to live in this moment forever. Passing Baby between the two of you to take turns feeding him, the comfort in realizing you are both still exactly the same yet lighter. It’s like the afterlife between the bad and the inevitable try for resolution when you can just be alright. When everything is finally still and there is sweetness in the familiar small talk and how Din wears his t-shirt and thick black framed eyeglasses, the soft curls of his hair, and the exquisite angle of his nose. It’s like he’s coming back into focus again for the first time in months and you look down from how it overwhelms you.

As always, Baby falls asleep in Din’s lap before you’re finished and when you return to the beach from putting him to bed, Din tells you he should probably get going. He stands and your heart stops.

“Are you going because you want to or because you think you have to?”

“I don’t want to.” He shakes his head.

“Then don’t go.” You say out of breath.

Din sits back down without breaking his eye contact with you and you follow suit. You search his face for a moment unable to hold back.

“Din, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Din shakes his head but you continue.

“We were obviously never destined to be ordinary people and though I truly feel that this time a part was necessary, it just made me realize I don’t want to have these extraordinary problems with anyone else.”

“Please don’t be sorry.” Din shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I said I would be the ground beneath your feet and I wasn’t there for you.”

You smile meekly, “I miss you, Din. It’s always going to be you.”

“I miss you too.” He pauses. “I feel like I’ve learnt so much lately, and I have something to say to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” You breathe.

“Okay.” He nods. “I spent my whole life thinking that I was doing all that I could, that I’d never love my own face let alone love someone else. Then I met you and you brought me to life. You brought me to life, Y/N. I had seen the whole galaxy but now I was finally living in it because I was seeing it through your eyes. It was like I had everything. But I got too selfish with you. I thought since you were my home I could take you anywhere and we’d be okay, forgetting that your home is consistency and trust.”

“It’s okay, Din.” You sigh.

“No it’s not.” He shakes his head. “All you ever did was love me exactly how I needed it, like you just knew. And I ruined our home because all I needed was you.”

You look down, at a loss for words.

“You shouldn’t be sorry because I should be begging for your forgiveness. You loved me despite everything and I was too ashamed to say I was so scared of what I had done. I can’t lose you, Y/N. The sun does not rise and set for you because you are the sun. You are the sun. You are the moon. You are every star in the sky. You are everything. Please forgive me for what I’ve done.”

You look up at him, through the blurry vision of tear-filled eyes. “I forgive you, Din.”

“Thank you.” He chokes into the top of your hand, as he’s taken it to press his lips against. “Thank you, my sweet girl.”

You smile through your tears and you come around to his side of the table and Din pulls you into his lap.

“I love you so much.” He says into your neck as he holds you against him tightly, adjusting his arms to get you closer.

“I love you, too.” You run your hand through his hair, like you’ve wanted to for so long and Din lifts his face with your touch.

You see him. The face that looked so familiar even when you first saw it. The skin so breathtaking it makes you cry. The mouth you could watch speak into eternity with a voice that can move mountains. The nose that looks like it was carved from marble by an angel’s delicate hands. And the eyes. The eyes so full of love and loss they could stop any war, so deep and dark you could swim in them forever.

You hold his face in your hands and you are so full of joy because you can finally see him.

“There you are.” You whisper before pressing your lips to his, melting in the familiarity of his moustache brushing your skin.

Tags: @otherthingsinhead @aeryntheofficial @maryan028 @readsalot73 @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon @capsironunderoos @antclottz @intense-sneezing @igotmadskills @applesislife @marrvelle-fics @killtherandomness @holyground1996 @taoiichii @kyoko-yuuki @bookwormmarvel @xplrreylo @the-resident-demon @sad-anxious-girl @jaegers-and-kaijus @drinkfantasy @forbidden-darkness @hyveee @fangirlfreakingout @petalduck @fahhhhq @thatonebishsstuff @midnightsinger @jenniferdaniels12 @hiscyarika @tryn25 @raveviolet @watsonwise @aproperthottie @lettonystarkbehappydamnit @hyunjins-wife @lilwickedred @yellowbubblewrap @pascalisthepunkest @kate013 @french-lace-lavender

It’s all fluff and beauty from here on out. 4 more parts to go.

Love, Zelda

[oz-corp-uplink-t]

Good evening. I figured it would be a good idea to describe our area in detail, both the one we're in now and the one from whence we came. This will be in chronological order, from first discovered to most recently discovered. I hope you all don't mind the formality. This is simply how I normally converse, and I do not see any reason to be any more or less formal than normal.

--Homeworld: GemsGoldia--

Our Homeworld was a unique one, compared to the more Earthly planets of most other universes. It was an entire planet made of crystals and gems, and the general climate of an area depended on the gemstone that comprised the most of an area. Green Emerald areas were usually perfectly warm, red Ruby areas were much hotter and had a tendency to contain magma geysers, blue Sapphire areas were more or less frozen wastes, and a few other, more unnatural climates, such as constant lighting storms over yellow variants of gemstones, and complete and utter darkness in Obsidian areas.

When I first appeared here, I was the only one. I saw the Creator soon after, and he told me what I should do. The Creator's form in our worlds is quite odd, actually. He's two hands and a head, and he tends to change size often, though he's always bigger than me. His hands have white gloves, and I'm certain I've seen they are connected to his head by fishing line or puppet strings. His head is just a black sphere with extremely triangular teeth and large, red eyes. It's more intimidating than it sounds.

Anyway, the factory/research lab we started with was already built when I showed up, along with quite a few houses, all made of the Emerald the ground was made of, and there were exactly enough for those that would appear soon after. There was an unfathomably gigantic generator in a basement within the factory, which I was told created an artificial atmosphere around the entire planet. Evidently, this was true, as it was destroyed in the destruction of the planet, and we have recorded several corpses of beings that need an atmosphere to survive.

--A strange new land: Mirrold--

I had escaped the destruction of GemsGoldia, and I had to find my way back alone. I went through several places, most of which seemed familiar and sparked... Memories, of past versions of myself. My first iteration looked similar to the creator, but I had a pale skin tone, my eyes were humanoid, my hair was green, and I had some nasty claws. I was a throwaway, used to add plot to a normal 'roleplay' (Which, as he told me, simply describes writing a story with more than one person, which I find to be an interesting concept) between good friends. I was to stop a wedding by killing the bride or groom, the bride being an original creation, from his friend, and the groom being another one of those... Skeleton characters. I think they called them Blueberry. I mortally wounded them, and was destroyed in revenge.

My next iteration was similar to the 000 model. I can't remember what I did as them, but I do remember that the Creator and his friend made fictional children for fictional versions of themselves. Apparently, this was my longest running form.

Then, we're at what I am now. A product of His creativity, depression from a long-passed break-up, of which he has told me was his own doing, and fantasies of escaping His world, and coming to ours. His mental state has left our world in ruin, and it seems like he may want this one to have a similar fate...

...Oh, right. I need to be talking about Mirrold. Forgive me, I tend to get far off-topic if I think about our home...

Mirrold is a mirror world, which I found in an apparently magical mirror in the ruins of GemsGoldia, which acted as a portal to here. This place consists of four islands and a deep pit under them, which we call Lower Mirrold.

--The glass shatters: Shatternia--

Shatternia is the only entrance to Mirrold that we know of. After you enter the mirror, you come out onto a catwalk suspended above Lower Mirrold, which looks like pitch blackness. This catwalk ends at a concrete building, where the Brokem, Ozwald, and Cordial base models reside. This is at the southernmost area of the island. To the west of this, there is a thick forest with various weak monsters within. The foliage on this island is always colored in a mix of reds and blues instead of the normal green you'd expect. To the north of the building, there is a toxic lake, and a bridge leading to a canyon with a large gate at the end, leading to the only town in the area, Shardini. If you go east from the building, there is a tram station, which connects to the next island over, and allows for transport between them. North of this is a mansion under constant snowfall, which is reminiscent of the home the Creator had imagined being in when with their friend. The Creator put a copy of his past self, specifically from the period of major depression over his relationship, in Mirrold, and they occasionally show up at this mansion and cry to themselves. They are hostile to any trespassers, but reminders of this failed relationship will stop them in their tracks.

I do recall, now that I think of it, there was another skeleton who became partially Corrupt, but never fully turned, and who lived with the models in the concrete building. Actually, they may have been an alternate version of Blueberry. I think the models that live there called them "Grape".

--A major downgrade: Junkedville--

It's much larger than Shatternia, but it's mostly empty desert. There is an exception: Salvagius. This is the one town in Junkedville, near the northern edge. Our factory rests at the northernmost point, and the rest of the place is houses and establishments made of sheet metal. The pub here is highly popular, mainly because it's impossible to die from overdrinking, as they add special ingredients that prevent death or impairments from extreme amounts, without lessening the actual enjoyment of it, including the drunkenness. This isn't completely effective, unfortunately, as you can tell from my entire workforce being in alchohol comas.

I did say that Shatternia was the only entrance, but that isn't completely true. In the factory, we are very capable of transporting people using the multiversal portals we have. We also considered opening them up to other creations for this uplink, but we aren't sure if it matters much anyway.

--Eternal war: Magicant--

Magicant is a small place, and there's not much left by now. Mages populated this place quite heavily before the Corruption followed us here. They have allied with us for the destruction of the Corruption, but they have blown half their island out of the sky trying to fight. There isn't much left to speak of...

--Mixed up anomaly: Lower Mirrold--

Lower Mirrold is... Difficult to understand. It's split into five sectors. These five sectors change randomly into portions of different worlds, bringing buildings, landscapes, and people with them into our own. This has caused many visitors to suddenly show up without intending to, and many strange scenarios where multiple characters and worlds combine in strange ways, causing strange situations. One we have documented in particular is still in progress, and the events until now are as follows.

1: Subject A ( Short/overweight/male, generally known as a thief, wears yellow and purple clothes, a cap with his first initial on it, and cyan eyeliner) receives a message from Subject B (Literally a fucking sponge) that proposes an exchange for taking B's job for a day in exchange for a stockpile of treasure. Subject A accepts, drives into ocean and finds Subject B's workplace.

It should be noted these two should not have known each other at all.

2: Subject A falls asleep on the job, establishment burns down. Subject A flees and finds stockpile. Subject B fires a nuclear bomb at his neighbor to threaten the arsonist who burned down the establishment. Subject A is transported to an unknown location for approximately 7 hours, before Lower Mirrold shifts again and any further events cease.

We have reason to believe whatever's been happening here is still happening now, but we have been too occupied with everything else we can't be certain.

--Core of Corruption: Corrupti--

Not much is known of Corrupti, other than Sally currently resides there and controls the Corrupted from it's core. It rose from Lower Mirrold some time after the event above had ceased. We don't know what to do about it, all we know is that it's ruining everything we worked so hard to achieve, and that we must end it... But we do not know how.

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

A few closing statements...

Firstly, I have been informed the Creator has documented the Lower Mirrold events mentioned above. I haven't been told where, though. Just that it's "On my tube", or something. If you happen to figure something out there, that would be helpful.

Second, I'm not completely certain the Creator has fully gotten over what happened with his relationship. I don't know if that's why he seems to be reluctant to help us, but either way I'm sure he'll figure himself out sooner or later. I hope, anyway.

Good night to you all. I hope you haven't forgotten us.

Oh, and to those of you in bad times, (lookingatyourox) just know your pain doesn't last forever, and all wounds can be healed with help and time. Also, do not try to end your pain early. It will only spreas your pain to others, and, if there is a place after life, give you a worse pain in your ghost.

...Sorry, if I'm being a bit too grim here. I'm in quite a grim mood, unfortunately. I think the Creator is, too.

[cosmiceverafter]

Whiskey Lullaby

Summary: The aftermath of Alex leaving Roswell. 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, depression, death, abuse (shed scene memory). 

This fic is for @michaelguerinweek - Day 3: “I don’t want you to go.” (distance/separation) It’s quite angsty. 

***

The whiskey was bitter and stung his tongue, but Michael devoured the pain.

Hell, he welcomed it.

Michael wanted to forget. Forget how the love of his life’s guitar calloused fingers felt caressing his naked body. The way that smooth tongue sucked deeply upon the sensitive skin behind his ear where it met his neck’s skin. But most importantly, he wanted to forget those damn soulful eyes and the way they had peered into his with a promise of forever.

More whiskey.

There would never be enough whiskey for this type of numbing tincture, the rational part of his brain exclaimed.

Michael swore loudly and chucked the empty glass bottle deep into the desert, hearing it shatter within the distance as if it had been his heart he had thrown instead.

God, he was so damn angry. Alex had just left, left without a word.

Fuck.

The reasonable and raw part of the whole ordeal was that Michael knew this was his own damn fault.

Michael bit his lip and tasted blood, cursing the tears starting to form in his eyes.

If only he hadn't pushed Alex away. If only he had told Alex the truth, not just about Rosa, but about who he really was.

God, he had wanted to and even replayed the conversation over-and-over inside of his mind.

But after that night with Rosa, Michael had changed. They were the monsters the humans believed them to be. How would Alex ever want him knowing what they had done? Rosa was like Alex’s sister, and they had erased her from oblivion.

Guilt, not for the first time, soaked his veins as the whiskey had.

The Pod Squad had covered up a murder and ruined the innocent image of a girl who had her whole life in front of her. All to protect one of their own. He would do it again for his found family, but it still made his stomach feel sick.

He had thought he was a good kid. One that studied and tried for more. But that was the lie, wasn’t it? Michael wasn’t normal. He was an alien from another planet. He’d never truly fit in. And after what had happened with Rosa, the realization had made him stop trying.

Michael tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, but the way Alex had looked into his eyes every single time as they made love, he had felt like a fraud. It would push him to rebel even harder, even though he saw it was breaking Alex’s heart.

The guy believed in him for some reason, which he used to love but now loathed.

Alex was too good for this world. He would never truly deserve him. Jesse Manes had been the devil in his ear, haunting him at every move.

Michael looked down at his injured hand and clenched his eyes shut from the painful memory.

He had just wanted one good thing in this stupid life, even if he didn’t deserve it.

But it was too late for that. He had acted rash and ridiculous, throwing his future away as he drank himself into oblivion in the middle of the day, secretly pouring his stash of acetone into the glass.

Michael had gotten into bar fights and had once again been thrown into jail.

It was nothing new but this time when he had been released, everything had changed.

His love had left him.

The pain hadn’t settled in as he knew and hoped Alex understood he would’ve followed that human anywhere on this planet.

Michael had thought perhaps he was still in a drunken stupor, but the sad truth of the matter was that aliens recovered quicker to sobriety than the typical human.

This nightmare had been a reality check, the worst kind, and Michael felt sick in his truck’s back as he re-lived every second of it.

He had made his way to the Manes’ residence after he had been released, even though he had known Jesse would kick his ass. But he had realized this time in jail, that he needed to get his shit together before his once-promising future really did wash away.

Michael had wanted to go and find Alex and apologize for being a dumbass for far too long. He wanted to prove to be the man Alex believed he could be. And he also wanted to open himself up raw and finally tell Alex everything. Absolutely everything.

The thought was terrifying, to say the least, but it was worth it. He saw Alex by his side for the long haul. Michael didn’t know much, but he knew they belonged together. 

He had known this the first time he had heard Alex sing and play his music in school. The moment had touched him in a way nothing else had. For once, he had wanted to know someone other than his alien siblings. Michael had wanted something for himself. 

Perhaps there was more to earth than he had come to understand.

But that apology and the communication of who he was and what they had done that night with Rosa, wouldn’t happen, because as he had searched around Alex’s house, a neighbor had asked who he was looking for.

“Alex Manes,” he had said innocently, a bit out of breath.

The older gentleman shook his head and said the words that had crumbled Michael’s existence. “Sorry, son. Alex Manes enlisted into the army and left first thing this morning. He’ll be gone for quite some time.”

Michael had felt as though he had been stabbed repeatedly in the chest, yet the words refused to register inside his intelligent brain. “I’m sorry, what? He’s...gone?”

“He sure is. His father is proud of his choice to go. Serving his country and all.”

“I’m sure he is,” Michael had growled. That sadistic son of a bitch had forced Alex, Michael just knew it. This was no choice. Alex wouldn’t have left him...not like this. 

“I’m sure Sergeant Manes will leave you his son’s mailing address.”

Not in this lifetime. Michael shook his head, “Nah. Thanks, though.”

He hadn’t remembered walking away. He hadn’t reflected going to the liquor store and getting several bottles. He hadn’t recollected driving his truck out to the desert to his and Alex’s spot. But he had remembered taking his first sip that day.

Because that sip of whiskey had been a lullaby of a soulmate gone away; the missing void would now be a permanent hole shaped resident etched into his dead beating heart. It was the love who wasn’t coming back. The one that got away.

The only one.

“I’ve lost my human,” he whispered to the stars foolishly, talking to the family he’d never actually known, the ones who had left him, too.

Michael looked at the night sky, knowing that now the world would be a darker place. The sun would not shine as brightly, and the stars would be forever muted with their brilliance.

With each sip, he said goodbye to the future he had hoped to have. He washed away the dreams and desires and replaced them with self-hatred and a mask of someone he no longer recognized.

Which was fine by him.

This would be the new song of his life here on earth.

His whiskey lullaby.