#my brain: ‘music makes you lose control music makes you lose control music makes you-‘

[m1d-45]

new sprouts

summary: chongyun in liyue, what will he find? the devil, maybe. god? certainly.

word count: ~1.7k

-> warnings: uh. injury? blood mention. minor spoilers for chongyun lore?

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< prev || < masterlist >

chongyun ran as quickly as he could, weaving between the scraggly trees. the ground beneath him shook, shards of geo biting into the sandbearers around him. the vishaps were quick, more vicious than usual. he wasn’t here for them, having simply been going for a walk, but it seems like his day was about to be far more eventful than he expected.

he pulled himself up into a tree to avoid an attack, the branches shaking as the vishap ran into the trunk. he wasn’t strong enough for this, not by a long shot, not when they were clearly enhanced by whatever malicious energy was in the area. he’d be better off calling in the millelith, or an adepti to deal with the source of energy.

the vishaps clawed at the tree and he looked around, frantic. he didn’t have nearly enough elemental energy in his vision to pull off a big attack yet, and liyue was far more favorable to the vishaps’ claws. he couldn’t run, he couldn’t climb, he’d have to hide, but where?

he climbed higher into the tree, balancing precariously on slightly too small branches. the tree was close enough to a cliff he could jump to it, maybe making it to the top before the vishaps if he was quick enough, but what then? what if there was nothing up there? half the cliff was obscured by the leaves anyway, what if it was an impossible climb? what if-

the tree shook again, something cracking loudly, and he jumped for the cliff before he could think. he slipped a few inches, but was able to find holds easily enough, pulling himself up the rock as quickly as he could. still, it was steep, and he could hear the scrape of claws below him rapidly approaching. there was a dark crack in the cliff halfway between him and the top, but there wasn’t any negative energy bleeding from it. it looked thin enough the vishaps couldn’t get in, and as he got closer he saw light coming from it… with only a moment’s hesitation, he climbed inside.

he could hear the vishaps clawing at the entrance but didn’t try to turn back, pulling himself deeper. one reached deep enough to cut down his side, tearing through his clothes, but he didn’t focus on that. the crack led somewhere, he could see the room open up, he just needed a few more feet to get there. he reached for the edge, his fingers stinging where he’d scuffed them, and pulled. the stone walls bit into him, as if found their best to keep him out, but with a final push he was free, falling to the floor.

chongyun took a moment to breathe, vision pulsing as he cooled himself down. adrenaline pumped through his body, persistent even through his breathing exercises. his head spun, the coolness of the cave doing little to help. he should look around the cave, make sure he’s safe, but he didn’t sense any dangerous energy. the vishaps had stopped tearing at the entrance, and he could only hope it wasn’t because there was an alternate entrance.

wind ghosted over his face, something soft brushing his nose. he opened his eyes, met with the surprising sight of a geo crystal fly. they were normally skittish, fleeing from anything that moved… how strange.

he sat up, the crystalfly fluttering away as he turned. the cave was big, roughly circular, lush plants growing along the walls. light fell through cracks in the ceiling, lighting up the wings of crystalflies as they flew lazily, an impossible amount of life sustained by so little resources. in the center of the room was a stone pedestal, sides too uniform to be natural, a woven bowl of vines sitting atop it.

a quick glance with elemental sight revealed an obvious abundance of elemental energy, dendro lining the walls and floor. what was surprising was the fact that the stone beneath it, including the pedestal, contained far more geo energy than normal. behind the vine wall in the center was something brimming with energy, all seven elements flocking to a core he couldn’t make out.

was this was the vishaps were so protective of? if he felt for it, the core was giving off a peaceful aura, stronger than his own yang, but it was suppressed. the vines, perhaps?

he tried to stand and gave up just as fast, his side burning with pain. he pulled his first aid supplies from his inventory, checking the damage. the cut was shallow, thankfully, stretched down most of his side. he was lucky he’d gotten as far in as he did, or who knows what would have happened.

several crystalflies flew over as he patched himself up, watching curiously. he tried not to pay attention, focusing on keeping his hands steady, but it was hard not to be curious. while most of the crystalflies were geo, there were some anemo and dendro ones as well. it’s strange, this cave is strange, and he can’t tell if he should run for backup or try to deal with it himself.

he pools cryo in his hand and presses it to his side to help dull the pain, stumbling to his feet. the crystalflies stay around him as he slowly walks for the vine bowl. but they knit closer as he approaches, forming a bubble to hide the core from him.

“oh, come on…” he reached for the vines, but thorns sprouted in an instant. he tried to freeze them with his vision but they were resilient, refusing to die. when he pulled his hands away, the frost melted in the next moment, quickly returning to bright green. it was like they absorbed his cryo, feeding it into the core. for what it’s worth, the vines seemed to loosen slightly, at least slightly weakened. so to access the core, he’d have to…

he should probably leave, go find the millelith or call in an adeptus, but something about the core drew him in. he should feel afraid, that he was so attracted to something he couldn’t even see, but… archons, he couldn’t just leave.

he took his hand from his side, placing both on the area he’d frozen prior. the thorns had disappeared at some point, allowing him to press directly onto the vines themselves. with a deep breath and a quick reassessment of his injury, he drew on his vision once more.

within a few moments, his wound began to ache again, but he didn’t pay it any mind. he kept his breath measured and the flow of cryo smooth; a slight sting when he fully inhaled wasn’t anything. he needed to get to the core, irrationally so, something about it drawing him in. it couldn’t wait, he couldn’t stop, his injury would be fine as long as he kept going.

crystalflies began to land on the vine shield, drawn to either the core or the energy he was pouring into it. whatever it was, it was important, important enough that the bubble only began to recess once his vision began to flicker. he leaned on the stone pedestal, breathing heavily, fumbling for a popsicle from his inventory. the vines unknit reluctantly, revealing several layers of elemental energy. first hydro, frosted over in one spot by his cryo. then a thin film of geo, crumbling away, and finally a blue sheen of anemo. so many elements, all refusing to react with each other…

the anemo faded into pale mist, his popsicle nearly falling from his hand in shock. the core of this cave, the thing the vishaps were protecting, the thing drawing him in so strongly… was you?

you, the imposter? you were what the world wanted to defend so fiercely?

…what he had wanted to find so desperately?

he bit another piece from his popsicle, moving his hand from the stone back to his side to soothe the growing pain. he was torn, conflicted about your presence here. you were clearly well taken care of, without a speck of dirt on your skin, but.. you were supposed to be hated. you were the imposter, right? yet all this life, these elements, the vishaps just outside- it shouldn’t be possible. there already was a creator on the throne, and they wanted you dead and gone, but the only thing capable of keeping this cave alive-…

for the first time in his life, chongyun got chills.

(the weather is good in liyue. unusually so. the sun is warm and the breeze is cool, the waters lapping gently at the shore. it’s as if the world can finally breathe, relaxing from the tense storms of the past few months. people find themself with a bit more mora than they had before, or perhaps they find something long lost.)

(the adepti look down from the clouds, glancing at each other in unease. hooves meet the ground in nerves, hands tensing, ready to reach for weapons.)

(the elements are calm in liyue. for the past few months, they’d needed to call in the assistance of the anemo archon to relieve the winds that wanted to rage. the stone has settled, the key lines calm.)

(“what do we do?” nothing. “what did we do?” nothing. red ropes lay tight, a gloved hand set on a mask, both ready to fight against whatever storm comes after this calm.)

(the earth is at ease in liyue. the tianquan steps out of her jaded chamber, yuheng at her side. she watches her city, the port, the taste of imported wine still sweet hours later. the night is cool, the moon reflecting off the waves in rippling lines, and yet both are tense.)

(“perhaps the creator has calmed?”)

(a shake of the head, a twist of the lips.)

(the crystalflies fly calm in liyue. relaxed, happy, content. nobody knows why; nobody but one.)

[loserboysandlithium]

18+ hoes

I love nervous Eddie. You’re on top of him fooling around, bodies grinding together as his tongue dances with yours. An unexpected rendezvous with your weed dealer.

Little whimpers escape his pretty lips as you press your body against his even tighter. You can feel his cock hard beneath you making you smile before pulling away from his kiss. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, his mouth parted slightly as he struggles to catch his breath.

The fact that he’s an entire mess from a make out session and some dry humping makes you even more turned on. Every part of you aching to pull every desperate noise you can from him. You lock eyes with him as you begin inching backwards on the bed, your lips now moving down across his tatted chest.

His big brown eyes widen as you reach the top of his green plaid boxers peeking out beneath his dark jeans. “May I?” you smirk up at him running your finger along the elastic, trying to keep your composure as you see the full outline of his thick cock begging to be freed.

“Y-yes. Fuck yes. Please.” Eddie breathes, leaning up to rest on his elbows, gaining a better view as you slowly work to get his jeans off.

His cock springs free, slapping hard against his toned stomach. Fuck, he’s big. You smile up at him watching him intently as you wrap your fingers around his dick, pulling it closer to your lips.

His dark eyes flick between your face and your hand as you begin slowly stroking him. Every little noise slipping past his lips is like music to your ears. You hold out your palm, spitting onto it before taking him back in your hand.

The saliva creates a filthy noise as you jerk his cock faster and faster, twisting your hand as you work him effortlessly. “Ohh fuck.” Eddie murmurs, his eyelids fluttering, already losing control before your mouth has even touched him.

You knew he wouldn’t last long. You could tell by the way his stomach was tightening with every movement. His chest rising and falling quicker each time.

You take your tongue, delicately licking his tip, the taste of him making your pussy throb. A pathetic noise comes from Eddie as you wrap your lips around the head of his thick cock, sucking softly.

“I’m- fucking hell..” Eddie trails off, his head falling back against his pillow. You loved how needy he was. How desperate he looked. You felt like you could hear inside his brain. ‘Don’t cum yet. Don’t cum yet.’ It only made you want to make him cum faster.

You swirl your tongue around his cock as you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth. “Oh my god. F-fuck. More. Please fuck.” Eddie begs you, his tone a mixture of desperation and pure lust.

You grip his thighs, your nails digging into his soft skin as you take him all the way into your throat. Gagging and choking as your eyes fill with tears, giving him everything you have with no hesitation.

“Jesus fuck. Feels so fucking good. M’ not gonna last. Not gonna-” his mumbling is replaced with a strangled moan just as his hands meet the top of your head holding you in place as you feel his dick twitching.

You peek up at him watching his plump lips fall open with a gasp as his cum coats the back of your throat. His back arches slightly off the bed as you swallow every bit of his seed. When you’re sure he’s done, you suck all the way back to the tip, taking your time, purposefully making him whimper as you tease his sensitive head.

You can’t help but wonder how pathetic he’d be if you actually fucked him. And you couldn’t wait to find out.

*I haven’t written anything in months so I’m sorry if this sucks but ily and I’m trying to get my brain working 😘

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (pt.2 of Dilf Next Door!Ghost)

Simon’s hobby improved to a new level of enjoyment because of you.

He’s at his flat when you open the door with the key he gave you. A simple grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist, faded shirts he owned since the first few years of his service covering his body when you spot him on the couch.

Simon lifts his head from the book as soon as he hears the door creaks open, the black reading glasses still on his face when he lets out a soft grunt to greet you.

“Can give you something to do, princess.” He mutters when you explain that you’re feeling bored, so you come over to see what’s he doing.

He picks up his book again minutes later, now with your trousers toss aside on the floor, panties still on but push aside, allowing his cock to barge in and nestles deeply in your cunt. One of his hand pushing you down to rest your head against his chest, while the other still holding his book, listening to you mewl every time he turns a page and accidentally’ shift his hips, grinding in and out of your now dripping cunny.

“Quit moving, love. Can’t see the words on the book clearly if you keep doing that.” The hand on your rear snaps down to holding your hips against his snuggly, dragging you down onto his cock in a swift move and makes his fat tip nudge against your cervix, making your eyes roll back and creams around his hard dick, walls clenching down tightly and try to milk him, so you can be filled with his white cum again just like last night.

“Can I move? please I want to move, please…” You watery eyes meet his, peppering kisses along his neck in attempt to make him lose control, yet all he does is anchoring your hips with his both hand, the book now lean back against your tits.

“Only few pages left. behave.” He croons, guiding your hips to slowly massage his cock, then unabashedly using your tits as makeshift book stand while he resume reading.

You’re stressed out as your exam day approaches, one hand gripping your hair while another holding the pen, trying to write down again the key points you just went over again, but failed miserably because your exhausted brain can’t operate properly after hours of study.

“Come here.” After probably the 100 times he hears you sigh subconsciously within hours, Simon’s voice pops up, beckoning you to come closer as he lies on your bed.

He’s gonna fuck all those stress out of you, and god, he’s doing such a great job, holding you down and desperately wanting you smother him with your pussy, tongues darts out and lapping at your wet folds, making you scream out his name in pleasure whenever he take your swollen clit in his mouth and gives it a hard suck.

“Use my tongue, sweetheart.” He pats on your thighs—straddling his face and wrapping his head in those soft flesh—encouraging you to ride his face and use it for your own pleasure. Don’t you dare lift your hips from his face before you come, his big palm will immediately lands on your ass cheek and spank you if you do so, before pulling you down so he can lick all the juices from your entrance, groaning contentedly against your pussy at the sweet and intoxicating taste.

“just like that, ride my face, need to feel you come on my tongue.” His praises barely registered as you chase your orgasm, fingers tangled in his hair and head throws back with all those moans—definitely the best music he’ve heard in his entire life—feeling him slurping all the juices eagerly in afraid of losing even a drop when you cry out his name and drench his face with your release.

Little whimpers escape your lips when you move your hips away from Simon’s face, and he reaches up to chase your soaked pussy, pressing a few more kisses—on your cute clit and puffy folds, as if thanking them for drowning him in his best dream.

And when you look down at him, it’s that slight smirk on his face again, the smug expression he has whenever makes you come or even squirt with his tongue only.

“I suppose that’s a way to relieve stress. Now, you still need more ‘stress relief session’, or you gonna go back to read those bloody textbooks?”

[retrosabers]

𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[hera-arii]

I always felt the gods here with me throughout my life, even before I started worshipping them.

When there was a thunderstorm I would go to the window and bask in the embrace of the lightning, beautiful and spectacular I thought it was. The comforting sound and feeling of the storm was calming to me.

That was King Zeus with me, giving me a sense of peace when others wouldn’t feel it.

The feeling of parental instinct when a child is in need. Wanting to make your family proud and trying your best to be strong, for them. Doing whatever you have to do so everyone in your life is safe.

That was Queen Hera with me, protecting me and others.

Going to the beach and collecting seashells. Splashing in the water with my loved ones, finding new rocks and walking along the seashore, smelling the salty sea breeze, it’s amazing.

That’s Poseidon with me, showing me the beauty of the sea.

Thinking about the loved ones that passed. Having them in my memories and feeling their presence here even though they aren’t.

Thats Hades with me, remembering the past.

Taking care of the Earth. Cooking your meals by yourself. Being grateful for your belongings and food. Respecting others and willing to do anything for your loved ones, and keeping them safe.

That’s Demeter with me, caring and understanding.

Learning. Making sure your studies are fufilled. Being a strategist and using your brain before doing. Trying extra hard to pass your classes. Wanting peace between war.

That’s Athena with me, reminding me to try my best.

Loving. Giving my friends the love they deserve. Always trying to make them happy, even if im upset that day. Trying to love my family even when they make me feel negative about myself.

That’s Aphrodite with me, loving unconditionally.

Losing my temper, controlling my temper, feeling strong emotions. When I get mad I can’t even think. So angry I might start a war. Standing up for what I believe in. Making myself known.

That’s Ares with me, and my emotions.

Feeling the sun heal my soul. Using music as an escape from reality. Guiding me throughout the day with the light that shines in the darkest parts of me. Healing myself.

That’s Apollo with me, using his light to save me.

Watching the moon glow at night. Hunting for my purpose in life, and learning new things. Archery. I hold the bow high, aim, and shoot. It’s easy for me because of her. She showed me the way.

That’s Artemis with me, guiding me throughout the night.

That feeling when you built something by yourself. It’s so amazing, like you can do anything else, and you seem powerful for once. The best thing you can feel. Pride.

That’s Hephaestus with me, building my pride.

The warmth you feel in your heart when you are in your room. It’s the happiness of being in control of yourself. Being hospitable towards others.

That’s Hestia with me, warming my heart.

Having fun. Doing what you love. Dramatizing yourself and being playful with others. Always leading with what you want to do. Making time for your passions.

That’s Dionysus with me, reminding me to have fun.

Traveling. Doing new things. Trying to find new passions. Not be afraid of getting in a little trouble. Playing pranks and games with people you love. Getting to act like a kid again.

That’s Hermes with me, making sure my childish needs are filled.

Dreaming. Imagining yourself in a different way. Seeing the beauty of another life. Being someone else entirely, you can do anything. Nothing can limit you now. The feeling of being cradled to sleep like a baby. The care you are being handled with.

That’s Hypnos with you, and in your dreams

They were always with me, and now im with them.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

"So, this is it? After everything we have been through, you won't even try to keep us together?"

Your voice cracked as you tried to hold it together. Tried to stop your body from shaking. Because you knew that if you didn't, if you had one less iota of control, you would start brawling. And that was not something you are willing to let this man witness. It's enough to make you lose your mind that he was sitting all casual on the sofa with a visage made out of stone.

It has been five years now. Five years of memories being flushed down the drain. Does he even give a single fuck? As this thought wedged itself into your brain, a bitter unnamed feeling lodged in your throat.

You watched with trembling lips as Jihoon finally stood up. Without breaking eye contact, he took small unsure steps towards you. He only stopped when he came close to you. Finally, he asked softly, "What else do you want me to say? I already told you I am sorry. You deserve someone better than me."

Those words were an instant punch to the gut. Bowlegged and stumbling, you put both hands on his shoulders and started shaking him like a maniac. You didn't even notice when tears started pouring from your eyes. You almost screamed out your next words,

" I-, I deserve better? I deserve b e t t e r ?! Then why wasn't I worth getting better for? Why can't you be better for me? Why won't you be better for me?" Feeling lighthearted and almost breathless, you took a step back and continued, "Our anniversary was two days ago, Jihoon. And you only came back today. You didn't even send a text."

With resignation felt in every bone in your body, you dealt the final blow, " Am I not worth a text?"

You heard him release a pained whimper at this. As if it physically hurt him. But you were beyond caring. You cared too much and that was the problem. Using both hands to wipe away your tears (You don't even have a boyfriend now that would do it), you picked up the suitcase and started walking.

It was then when you heard a mangled "I love you" come from Jihoon. Without turning back, you replied, "Do you? I haven't felt that for a long time. Even if I believe you, the problem is, I love me too. I never expected to be your main priority. But it turns out that I wasn't even a priority."

You opened the door and gently whispered your parting words into the wind, "It's not about you forgetting to send a happy anniversary text. It was never about it. I hope you know that. Yet it was my last straw. I love you, Jihoon. I don't know when I will stop loving you. But I just can't do this anymore."

In the sudden silence that followed, only the sound of a door clicking shut was heard. And in the next moment, Jihoon fell to his knees. It was as if someone cut all the strings holding him together. Unbiddenly, a tiny box fell out of his pocket. It was the sole thing keeping him company through the dead of the nights that followed.

a/n: it's woozi's birthday so i wanted to celebrate it in my own way. he is my bias wrecker and therefore i wrecked him in this fic. oops ( i am joking, hehe). but, on a serious note, he is the one who made me fall in love with seventeen's music. he is the one who redefined the meaning of friendship for me. his mindset inspires me everyday and i look up to him so much! so, happy birthday to our hardworking singer, producer, dancer, idol, and artist, mr lee jihoon. i hope you will always be happy and healthy <3

(also, this is the post that inspired this whole mess.)

[narrycherries]

ivy: magnificently cursed

she can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her..

(part 5)

masterlist / ivy series

word count: 11.4k

warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, alcohol use, enemies to lovers

[a/n: hi before you again I just want to say I hope this isn’t repetitive, a good portion of the content of this series will happen at the same few locations, so just be patient with me lol, slow burn is coming to an end soon I promise! enjoy xx]

..Sometimes I just want to scream and scream until my lungs explode. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! He has been nothing but an ass to me, even when I try to thank him for helping me he acts like he hates me. What did I ever do to him? Am I losing my mind? Was there something that happened that I can't recall? And my stupid heart won’t stop gushing over him. What is wrong with me! Am I literally losing control of my mind? And to think that I went out of my way to be nice to him.. just to have it thrown back in my face? I’m willing to bet that nobody hates anyone as much as he hates me..

A frustrated huff flew past Ivy’s lips as she finished writing the final line of her diary entry for the day. She always tried her best to write her feelings and thoughts down so that her brain would be less congested. Today’s session lasted about twenty minutes as she quickly jotted down her conflicting thoughts regarding a certain person - a person she hadn’t seen in a couple of weeks who just so happened to take up every available space in her mind. She slammed the journal shut and shoved it back into the drawer, not wanting it to be left out in the open. She never thought Emma would go through her things, it was just a personal preference she had - keep it hidden.

Ivy quickly got dressed after checking the time. It was Friday evening and she had something big planned for the night. She wasn’t going out on a date or going to dinner with Emma, she was doing something for herself and by herself. She checked her reflection, smiling as she thought she looked rather happy - despite being so angry as she scribbled words into the diary just minutes ago. Before long, she was out of the house and in her car, headed for the destination she was excited to arrive at.

There was a bit of nervousness building in her stomach as she gripped the wheel and anticipated what was going to happen. She tried to remain calm and remind herself this wasn’t the first time she’s doing this. She had a little bit of experience with the process, and she already knew the end results were well worth the anxiety. The music softly buzzed in the car as she drove to the tattoo shop. She didn’t want to overwhelm her mind with loud noise, she had to save all her energy for sitting through the tattoo.

Emma was excited that she was getting a new one, but she was unable to accompany her tonight since she had made plans with Niall. Ivy wasn’t bothered by having to go alone, she actually preferred it that way. With her previous tattoos, she just sat in silence as the artist did their job with precision and focus. She thought that talking would be too distracting.

A bright smile grew on her lips as she walked up to the door of the shop, the bright green open sign nearly blinding her. The bell jingled above the door, making her glance up for just a second. Zayn had just walked into the lobby when she came in, so he greeted her with a quick hug.

“How’ve you been?” He hadn’t seen her since their trip ended.

“I’ve been pretty good. And you?” She asked as he sat down at the desk to verify her appointment details.

“Decent, decent. Been having a lot of practices this week for the show tomorrow, so m’a bit tired.”

She laughed gently. “Not too tired, I hope.”

“Oh, of course not! I could tattoo in my sleep. It’s everything else that I’m being lazy about this week.” He grinned back as he confirmed her appearance for the appointment in his computer system and stood back up, gesturing her to follow him to the back.

When they went through the main tattoo room, she noticed there was a man she didn’t see last time who was working on a client. He didn’t look up at them though, he seemed to be very preoccupied. The door to Zayn’s private room was already opened, so she trailed in behind him.

“Don’t mind the company. He owes me a favor so he’s doing the job I don’t like doing.” Zayn said with a chuckle as he shut the door behind them.

Ivy was about to open her mouth to speak when she looked to the corner of the room. In the chair she sat in when she was in Emma sat a person she knew all too well. Her chest started to feel tight all of a sudden, and it worsened when a set of eyes shot up to look at who came in.

Harry was surprised to see her standing there, but he didn’t express it on his face whatsoever. Ivy, on the other hand, made it clear that she was shocked to see him sitting there. He noticed the small part between her lips, almost as if her jaw went slack, and the look of utter fear in her eyes. A bit dramatic, if someone were to ask him.

“Have a seat, I’ve got your design printed out in a few different sizes.” Zayn said as he went to the counter, collecting the papers he wanted to give her.

She sat down, swallowing harshly as she tried to ignore the fact Harry was in the room with her. She hadn’t seen him since Niall dropped her and Emma off back home after the trip. He didn’t talk to her, or to anyone, the entire ride home. The last thing he said to her wasn’t very pleasant, which seemed to be a trend for them, so she still had a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to tell him how rude and hateful he was, despite all the rather nice things he had done for her during that trip, but of course she was too afraid to even look at him let alone speak.

Zayn handed her the print outs and she looked over them quickly, picking the size she thought was appropriate. “What do you think?”

He nodded, glancing at the back of her arm. “I think that’s the best size, yeah.”

“Alright. We’ll do that one then.”

He took the paper back and turned away from her. “I’ll get the stencil ready and when I get back I’ll lay the chair down for you.”

“Okay.”

To her surprise, Zayn walked to the door and left the room. He went to the shared space where the other artists work to prepare the stencil. Knowing that she was alone in a room with Harry was making Ivy’s heart start to race and her stomach churn. She felt uncomfortable being this close to him, even if he was on the other side of the room. But thankfully, he was busy doing something and his eyes weren’t on her anymore.

She took the opportunity to look his way since he was distracted. Her brows furrowed slightly as she realized what he was doing. Zayn had given him the task of rearranging new designs and templates in the book his clients often flipped through. She had looked at it when she was here with Emma, so she knew it was already packed full. There were a few loose pages sitting on the floor, maybe those were ones they were replacing?

It took all her strength to tear her eyes from him. She didn’t want to get caught up in her thoughts again, she had already done that once today. Her journal received absolute hell about Harry. She wrote until her hand was sore. There was no point in reliving those thoughts right now.

Zayn was only gone for a few minutes. He told her to stand up so he could adjust the chair before applying the stencil to her skin. Ivy took a deep breath as she watched him lay the chair down. She’d have to lay on her stomach for this one, which was the most comfortable option.

“Alright, turn around.” He said, the stencil gripped in between his fingers. “You want it closer to your elbow, right?”

“Yeah.. keep it low.” She mumbled back, holding her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn’t be in his way.

Zayn placed the stencil on her arm and slowly peeled the paper back. He stared at it for a moment, pretty certain about the placement. But it wasn’t up to him, he had to get her approval.

“Check it for me.”

Ivy turned in the mirror, looking at her arm the best she could. She nodded lightly, pleased with where the stencil had been placed. Seeing the design on her skin, even though it wasn’t permanent yet, made her heart swell. It was a special thing she was getting inked into her skin, and it made all the anxiety worth it.

“It looks perfect.”

“Alright, get comfortable then.” He smiled before starting to prepare his materials.

Ivy laid down on the chair, careful not to disturb the stencil on the back of her arm. She gulped lightly and folded her other arm beneath her head for more cushion. Of course, because why would it work out in her favor, she was facing the corner where Harry was sitting. She kept her eyes closed for now, not wanting to see him at all.

It didn’t take Zayn long to set up, and before she knew it, he was telling her to take a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

The buzzing of the tattoo gun rang in her ear as Zayn pulled her skin taut and started inking the stencil. She sighed softly, the feeling of being tattooed wasn’t foreign to her but it had been a while since her last one. The flower design Zayn put together for her was just lineworm and very gentle shading. She didn’t want it too realistic or too bold.

After a couple of minutes, he decided to talk with her. He didn’t mind chatting with his clients, it made the time go by quicker for both parties. He was very precise and focused, but could easily multitask.

“So.. do these flowers have any significance to you?”

Although he talked with her and designed the tattoo, Ivy hadn’t told him why she wanted them. He didn’t feel the need to ask his clients for the purpose of their tattoos, he just drew up whatever they wanted and tried his best to perfect the designs.

Ivy chewed on her cheek for a moment before answering. “Yeah.. they’re my mom and brother’s birth month flowers. They, um, both passed.”

“Which is which?”

She hesitated at first, the fear of tears creeping into her eyes was taking over. She could easily break down at the mention of either of them, but especially her brother. Ivy opted to stay strong and smile to herself as she thought about them. They would live forever in her mind, the memories she made with each of them were on the top of her list of most important things. She loved and missed them dearly.

“My mom’s is the rose.. the daffodil is my brothers.” She told him in a gentle voice, not realizing she was speaking so softly.

Zayn wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he didn’t respond. He figured she wouldn’t want to discuss them anymore. His assumption was right. The room was silent for a few minutes, aside from the music playing at a low volume. She didn’t know the song that was currently on, though, but Zayn was humming along to it. The feeling of the needle stabbing into her skin was the only thing preventing her from falling asleep. She was tired after a long day working, she just wanted to get home and go to bed. A smile crept to her lips as she heard the start of the next song, one she was very familiar with. It was Joan Jett’s version of “Crimson & Clover,” one of her favorite songs ever and one of her top karaoke picks.

“Oh, I love this song.”

“You prefer this version I assume?” Zayn said with a light laugh.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Zayn pulled the gun away to wipe at her skin, clearing off some of the excess ink. “We used to play this one live.. haven’t done it in probably a year or so.”

“I suggest adding it back to the set.” Ivy tried not to laugh too loudly, she didn’t want to move her body in any way that would ruin Zayn’s lines.

“We have one more practice before the show, maybe we could squeeze it in.” He pushed the needle back into her skin, picking up where he left off. “Are you coming to the show tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am. I’m excited.. I haven’t been out since the trip.”

Zayn made a quick glance over his shoulder towards Harry, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. “Well, I hope your experience is much better than others were.”

Ivy hummed at his words. “Yeah, hope so.”

They went quiet again, the song filling the void. She started thinking about the show and what she was going to wear. The weather might not allow her to dress the way she would prefer, there was a cold spell coming in tonight that would stick around for a few days. Emma would probably get her to help pick out an outfit in the morning, so perhaps Ivy could make her do the same.

Her mind started wondering off to little random things, nothing particularly capturing her attention as she laid there. Zayn was focused on the tattoo and he didn’t want to risk messing up, so he stayed quiet. He’d answer if she wanted to ask him something, but she appeared to be fine with the silence.

Zayn finished the rose and wiped her skin clean, avoiding the stencil lines for the other flower. He was pleased with the work he did, so he moved on to the next one. Ivy sighed out as he mumbled a quick warning to her before starting again. It was fine for a couple of minutes, until she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere around them. She heard footsteps, then could actually feel a presence come towards her. She opened her eyes and immediately felt her throat close up. The sight of Harry’s legs wasn’t something she thought she’d see this close. She had hoped that he would stay in the corner the entire time, but he didn’t.

“How’s it look?” Zayn asked him.

Harry was standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes staring down at the spot Zayn was tattooing. The small flowers were positioned on the back of Ivy’s arm, just above her elbow. They weren’t very big at all and leaned more towards a delicate touch than a bold tattoo. If he hadn’t heard what she said about its significance, he would think that it was a weak tattoo - something girls got just to say they had a tattoo. But since he knew the reason, he was a bit more understanding. He wouldn’t say that to her, obviously, but he at least respected the decision.

“Looks nice. Pretty clean.” He mumbled back, his words low and deep.

“Did you get done with the book?”

Harry cleared his throat and took a step back, but his eyes remained on her skin. “Yeah.”

Zayn leaned back to get a better look at the lines as he took a quick break. “Are you riding with me tomorrow to the bar?”

Harry thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “No, I’ll just go with Cory and Michelle.”

Ivy felt a bit of relief knowing that he wasn’t going to be in Niall’s car. Unlike last time, Niall told her and Emma they could ride with him to the bar. He would have to be there a little early, but they were fine with waiting longer for the show to start. Niall promised Emma he wouldn’t drink tomorrow night, which allowed her to since he’d be driving them back.

“M’gonna head out.” Harry said through a sigh, walking towards the door.

Zayn gave him a quick goodbye and said he’d see him tomorrow afternoon when they meet up for one final quick practice and recap for their show. Ivy was confused as to why she felt sort of upset that Harry had left. She should be jumping with joy and celebrating, finally free of his overbearing presence. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the tattoo needle, she couldn’t distract herself enough. Harry had filled her mind up again..

—•—

Emma grinned when Ivy emptied the shot into her mouth. They had been at the bar for about half an hour, waiting on the show to begin. Niall had to leave them behind to go get things sorted with the owner and set up the stage. They decided it would be best to spend their time preparing for the night, and that meant throwing back shots and ordering a few drinks. Niall was their chauffeur for the night, they were going to cut loose.

“Niall’s not gonna know what to do with you tonight.” Ivy teased as Emma chugged the rest of the beer she had ordered.

“Too hot to handle.” Emma laughed back, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

When Ivy picked up her cup from the bar, she grunted from the scratching of her denim jacket against her freshly inked tattoo. She thought the long sleeve shirt she had on would stop it, but she could feel the thick fabric anyway. Emma gave her a funny look and a shake of her head.

“I told you that would hurt tonight.”

She shrugged back, it wasn’t her first time dealing with a healing tattoo. “I’ll be alright. Just don’t grab on to me later.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

Ivy didn’t consider how painful it would be to have someone grab onto her arm until now, and the thought of it alone was making her cringe. Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, but she might forget later when they’re dancing and both drunk out of their minds. It would be something to deal with then, and not fret over now.

“Niall told me they added a few songs to the set. Switched out some other ones.” Emma said after calling the bartender over to get another beer.

“Oh really? I’m excited for tonight. I might request something.” Ivy looked down at the ice swirling in her cup, the memory of the night she was harassed while eating the ice cubes flashed in her mind. She blinked it away, trying not to let anything ruin this night for her. “Are they going to the back room after like last time?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Emma said back, her hand now occupied with her knew drink. “I hope it goes well this time. I swear we say that every time we do something that involves Harry.” Her snicker didn’t make the topic easier to deal with though.

Ivy sucked on her cheek for a moment, all those harsh memories she shared with him circled her mind. It was like a revolving door they could never escape. It was constant and never ending. Torture would be the word she’d use for it, though that seemed a bit drastic. A huff pushed out of her nose, her eyes cutting back to Emma.

“He was at the shop yesterday when I got the tattoo.”

Emma lifted her brows. “Really? Did he say anything?”

She shook her head. “No, not to me. He said some stuff to Zayn.”

“I really, honestly don’t know why he.. he acts like he doesn’t like you.”

Ivy scoffed. “Acts? It’s definitely not an act. He.. he practically hates me. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything to him.”

Emma gave her a frown, she didn’t really know what to say about it either. It made no sense that he was so hostile towards her. Was her vibe just something he couldn’t connect with? She must not be friendly in his eyes, or maybe she makes the group feel different and he didn’t like that. Nobody seemed to know the reason..

“He’s just a guy. Rude and.. selfish.” Emma took a drink of her beer. “But.. I was told something interesting.”

Ivy could tell by the way she cocked her brow and let her eyes fall from their locked stare that it was something she wanted to hear. The corner of Emma’s mouth lifted as she thought about it in her head, debating on telling Ivy the information. It wasn't anything crazy, but she thought it was interesting at least.

“What is it?” Ivy asked, nudging Emma’s knee with her own.

Emma twisted the bar stool a little, trying to be all nonchalant about it. “I’m not supposed to say.. but Niall doesn't have to know.”

The mention of Niall made Ivy even more curious. If Niall said this to her, then that means it probably relates to Harry in some way. Emma had no idea, at least to Ivy’s knowledge, that Ivy was so affected by Harry. She didn’t know that she’s spent hours and hours writing about him in her diary, thinking about him while pulling at her own hair and mumbling nonsense to herself, replaying their interactions in her mind imagining them playing out in different ways.. But clearly, Emma knew that telling her something about Harry would pique her interest.

“I’m not going to say anything.” Ivy mumbled back, but of course Emma knew that already.

“Basically.. Niall’s mentioned that Harry’s been different lately. Like at their place or during practice.. even when he’s working shifts at the store.”

Ivy leaned her arm on the bar, her eyes staring holes through Emma’s face. She didn’t say anything yet, just watched as her friend hesitated to finish the story. Emma threw her head back, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at Ivy.

“Niall said it’s like he’s constantly distracted.. and then he’ll get pissed off for no reason, like they could be in literal silence and Harry would get mad. He storms off to his room.. plays his guitar and slams the doors all night.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Hard to believe that’s not normal for him.”

“I don’t know.. I guess he’s got some stuff going on in his personal life. Maybe that’s why he’s so.. rude to you. Maybe he can’t handle a new person right now, or whatever.”

Emma didn’t appear to connect any dots between Harry and Ivy, which Ivy was thankful for. She didn’t want to admit how often she thought about Harry or how far her spirals would go. She didn’t want Emma to know any of that. It made sense that some other external factors could be contributing to Harry’s behavior. What if there really was something going on before Ivy came along, and her being around just didn’t mix well with Harry’s issues? Was it all too much for him? It made sense, yet at the same time it didn’t. How could her being around affect him that drastically?

She just shrugged her shoulders again. “Whatever it is.. he needs to get over it.”

Emma looked back to her. “Yeah. Ready for another shot?”

Just like last time, the girls made their way to the front of the crowd about ten minutes before the show was going to begin. Ivy was on her third drink, on top of a few shots they took, and it was already going straight to her head. She hoped that sipping slowly on this one would do her some good and make her feel better, not crash her out too soon.

“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Emma said as she checked her phone for the time.

Ivy felt a jolt of energy shoot through her. She was excited to dance and sing, let go of all the worries she faced throughout the week and just have fun. Although she had all intentions of enjoying herself tonight, she knew there was a big possibility that Harry could interfere with that. Even if he didn’t do anything to her directly, his presence alone could jeopardize her sanity. Obviously, she couldn’t escape him - in a few short minutes, he’ll be standing on the stage in front of her singing for the next two hours. She was confident in the idea of being able to ignore him. She’s been partially successful at it before.

There were the diary entries to take into consideration - she had spent so many hours pouring out her thoughts and feelings about him. Maybe releasing all of it from her mind would make it easier to ignore him. There was life before he came around, she sometimes forgets that she hadn’t known him forever. She was perfectly capable of controlling her thoughts before he waltzed his way into her mind. Perhaps she was just aiming for something unachievable.. she’d never be able to just forget him, even if she never saw him again.

Ivy’s distraction was pushed to the side when the band finally walked onto the stage. People were cheering loud, ready for the night’s entertainment. Emma squealed, throwing her hand up to wave at Niall. He was chuckling at her, amused to see how excited she was to see him. Ivy’s eyes roamed over the others. Zayn was taking his seat at the drum set while Cory and Michelle quickly discussed something about one of the new songs they were going to play. Of course she couldn’t look at everyone and avoid Harry. Her brows dropped low as she realized he looked different tonight.

That long, perfectly sculpted hair was still flowing onto his shoulders. His tight black tshirt exposed his muscled arms, tattoos inked deep into his tanned skin. His dark jeans were the same as she’s seen him in before. Tonight, he made a decision that was shocking to his band mates, and even more of a surprise to Ivy.

Niall and Cory began the first song, simultaneously singing the opening lyrics to “You Give Love A Bad Name.” Harry’s fingers began playing the guitar he had strapped around his body, his eyes glancing down at the strings to make sure he was on the right track. It sounded perfect, though. She remembered them talking about Harry playing live at dinner weeks ago, but she didn’t think she would witness it solely based on how they reacted to the idea. If he were so insecure about it, what changed his mind? She was genuinely impressed. He was still positioned at the front, the microphone resting in a stand angled towards him. He was singing as confidently as the first time she saw them perform.

It didn’t take very long for Emma to grab Ivy’s hand and pull her closer, the two of them dancing together like it was their last night. As much as she wanted to watch Harry play the guitar, Ivy had no choice but to focus on Emma. She wasn’t going to be rude to her friend for the sake of looking at a person she didn’t even like. She could tell when Niall would play the same chords as him, but he did cut back some and let Harry take over. She wondered if Niall did that to ensure the song wasn’t thrown off track or if that was just how they preferred to do it.

The song changed, and Emma took a quick rest to guzzle a bit of her drink. Ivy let out a laugh as she spilled some, it trickled down her chin and onto her outfit. She groaned, wiping at her face.

“Slow down!” Ivy yelled over the music, making Emma grin back.

They picked up the dancing after her short break. Like she had hoped, it wasn’t that hard for Ivy to forget Harry was so close to her. Maybe it was because this was a different situation. She wasn’t trapped in a car next to him or standing beside him in a crowd, he was doing a job and he was focused entirely on that. She didn’t care what the reason was, she was simply glad she was able to be carefree.

Twenty minutes passed by before Emma decided she’d get another drink. She asked Ivy if she wanted anything, but she declined. They also made a promise that she’d be safe and come straight back, since Ivy’s incident at that other club still lurked fresh in their minds. This place was different, though. Emma was very familiar with the layout and it was nowhere near the size of the other one. Ivy stayed put, right in front of Niall where Emma wanted to be so she could see him.

Niall actually took notice of Emma leaving, but he wasn’t too worried about her. He knew she was comfortable with some of the workers and if she needed anything she’d be able to get help quickly. The strobing lights made it hard for him to see her in the crowd, but there was not any concern.

Ivy kept dancing by herself, but not as passionately. She was swaying from side to side, her head matching her body’s movements. She sipped her drink and sang along to the music, her eyes settled on Niall and Michelle, since they were on the side of the stage they were in front of. She did start to wonder where Emma was after a couple of minutes, but she tried to stay calm. She knew it could take a bit longer to get a drink sometimes, and the walk from the bar might be a harder squeeze. People were less likely to let her just slip through if she were trying to get to the front.

Thankfully, she didn’t come into any trouble. Emma returned with a drink in her hand and a grin on her lips. They were playing one of her favorite songs they do live and she got back just in time. Ivy knew the dancing would immediately start back, Emma couldn’t resist the song. And just like that, they spent another fifteen minutes belting out song lyrics and dancing around like teenage girls.

Eventually, due to their instinct to jump around instead of dance most of the time, they managed to shift from their original spot. They ended up directly in the middle, Harry standing right in front of them. Emma was still able to see Niall, so she didn’t care that much. Ivy, on the other hand, cared more than she wanted to admit. Being that close to him, so perfectly aligned, was making her heart start to skip beats every few seconds. She stared up at him as he sang, his hand gripping the microphone stand as he took a break from playing the guitar. He hadn’t touched it during this song, so maybe he didn’t like playing this one, or perhaps he was resting his hands. His eyes were settled on something random out in the crowd, not towards her. It was a relief.

The song came to an end and she took a minute to take some deep breaths, trying to recover quickly. Her eyes curiously shifted up to Harry just as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the guitar. Ivy absentmindedly chewed on her cheek as she stared up at him like he was an angel, something so magnificent and beautiful.

“Ivy!” Emma suddenly screamed her name as loud as she could.

Her jaw went slack as she heard the beginning of a song she adored more than anything else in the world. Emma had no idea this song was going to be added, Niall didn’t tell her what they put on the set. She was just as excited. Ivy thought back to just yesterday at the tattoo shop, and how this song came up in conversation with Zayn. Was it just a coincidence that “Crimson and Clover” was being played tonight? Surely Zayn would have mentioned it if they had been practicing it, right? She didn’t care to know the answer right now, the urge to dance and sing to one of her favorite songs was stronger than her desire to know.

“Over and over!” She sang at the top of her lungs, her hand gripping Emma’s as they moved their hips to the beat, singing like nobody else was in the room.

Unknownst to Ivy, she had an admirer of her own tonight. She was too busy focused on Emma to notice that Harry had laid his eyes on her. He could hardly hold back an amused smile as he sang, watching her soak up every single word of the song. He thought it was entertaining how she so easily and so comfortably expressed herself. She didn’t care who was watching, or who was singing, she loved the song and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

Unfortunately, it was a short song. And when the final chords were being played, she let Emma go and turned back towards the stage. Harry’s eyes were still locked on her and she immediately felt her stomach seize up. Was it purposeful or did his eyes happen to land on her? She didn’t know and honestly she didn’t have time to think about it. She was slowly starting to drift deep in her thoughts. She noticed every detail about him all of a sudden, as if she had never seen him before. From the sweat beads on his forehead to the delicate way his fingers strummed the strings on his guitar, hitting every chord perfectly.

He stepped back from the microphone stand, pulling his gaze away from her. She felt her throat dry up when he turned away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart flutter and she hated that it had to end so quickly. She kept her eyes on him though as he moved on the stage. He placed his guitar on a stand and grabbed a stool.

Cory leaned into the microphone placed in front of him and let everyone know what was going on. “Slowing it down for you for a bit.”

Just like last time she saw them perform, they all took a quick minute long break. Harry snatched a bottle of water off the floor at the back of the stage then walked back to his microphone stand where the stool was waiting for him. She held her breath as she watched him take a seat, then remove the cap of the bottle. He pressed his lips and tilted his head back, water spilling into his mouth. She couldn't help but notice how pink his lips looked. Was it the lighting or were they swollen from all the singing and the constant hitting against the microphone? She didn’t know why, but they looked better than they ever had.

A small gasp left her mouth as Harry’s eyes dropped down to look at her. This time she knew it was on purpose. The way he looked directly at her, nothing else distracted him. They shared a stare for a long minute, neither of them wanting to break it. Even when he took another drink of his water, he kept his eyes frozen on her. Water dripped out the corner of his mouth, and he just wiped it away with the back of his hand. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to stop being so dumb and giddy about him, but her heart was somewhere else. She didn’t want to look away, didn’t want it to ever end.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” Emma called out, interrupting the moment she wasn’t even sure was real.

She looked over at her and smiled. “Alright.”

Ivy wholeheartedly expected to not see his intense stare when she tilted her head back, and she was surprised to meet his eyes again. He had no intention of looking away from her yet, even when Niall started the next song. Harry gripped the microphone and pulled the stand closer to him. To Ivy’s dismay, it was another one of her favorite songs. She knew for a fact she never said anything about this song to Zayn at the shop the other day, or in any other setting that Harry had shared with her. “Something In The Way” was the same song that made her extremely dizzy and out of it the last time she attended their show. It was a regular song on the set, unfortunately for her, but it felt different this time.

Harry’s eyes were fixated on her, and magically this made it easier for her to listen to the song. Usually, when it played on the radio or she put it on herself, she cried and thought about how much her brother loved the song. Right now, she was just enjoying the way it sounded being sung in Harry’s voice. Every instrument on the stage was being perfectly executed - every note, every chord, every single thing was perfect. They did the song a great justice. She was mentally hitting herself for running out of the crowd to seek refuge in the restroom the last time they played this song. They really did it so perfectly..

A tingle ripped down her spine as she flicked her eyes away from his. She wasn’t confident enough to keep the contact locked anymore. It was starting to be too overwhelming for her. Harry didn’t let up, though, he kept his eyes trained on her. Ivy wasn’t sure why he was so focused on her, but it was making her stomach ache. She reached up and gently started to rub her fingers over the small pendant of her necklace, her eyes slowly lifting up to look at him.

For the rest of the song, and into the start of the next one, Harry stared down at her. He was intrigued by her change of behavior. Sure, they were now playing slower songs instead of the more upbeat ones, but he could tell she was feeling a different way than before. She was reclusive, her eyes nervously darting away from him every couple moments just to sneak their way back. He found it rather interesting how she could go from having so much energy to appearing to be so shy.

Ivy was deep in her thoughts as she stood quietly by herself, Harry’s attention causing chaos in her head. She fought between being infatuated with him and wanting to scream at him. She tried to bring those rude comments to the forefront of her mind, but the memory of his hand catching her on the sidewalk and his arm protecting her from that stranger shoved their way through. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all..

A frown shaped to her lips when he suddenly looked away from her, his eyes scoping out the crowd now. She immediately started to wonder if she had did something wrong. Was he even looking at her that long or did she imagine it? No, there was no way she could make up the intense feelings she had experienced. It was real, no doubt in her mind. She didn’t ponder it long, though, as she realized Emma was next to her again. Did he look away because he didn’t want to be caught staring at her?

“Sorry, took longer than I thought. There was a line.” She said loudly, leaning into Ivy’s shoulder.

She turned slightly to face her, presenting a fake smile. “You’re fine.”

“Did I miss anything?” She asked, her eyes peering up at the stage.

Ivy pushed out a breathy laugh. “No, nothing.”

The rest of the show was just as enjoyable as the first half, and even though Ivy didn't get much of Harry’s attention, he spared her a few quick looks every now and then. She was confused about the sudden interest he showed in her, or at least the curiosity. She didn’t want to refer to it as interest, in case it wasn’t that in any way at all. Presuming would only hurt her if she ended up being wrong.

Once the band had ended their show, they were gathering their things on the stage. Harry adjusted the microphone stand down to its default height before taking the guitar off his body. He had grabbed it and kept playing after the slower portion of the show was over. Emma was talking to Niall as he kneeled down on the stage, leaning close so he could hear her over the noise. The regular music had already started to play through the speakers in the ceiling. Ivy waited patiently for her, just standing nearby. She didn’t want to be too close in case Niall was trying to have a private conversation.

Something caught her attention all of a sudden. Harry gripped the neck of the guitar with one hand, the other pushing through his hair. When he took the first step to leave the stage, something fell onto the ground. It was his guitar pick, the light just so happened to hit it right so that Ivy was able to make out what it was. She furrowed her brows and stood on her tiptoes to look onto the stage. She saw the thick piece of green plastic sitting there. Harry had used it for some of the songs, but she did notice he didn’t have it in his fingers the entire show.

She glanced over at Niall and Emma, neither of them were paying her any attention. She used her heels as an advantage to push herself up more, reaching onto the stage to grab the pick. It was almost too far away, she barely was able to get a hold of it. When she brought it in front of her, grunting as she fell flat on her heels, she noticed that it had a darker green marbling look to it. She flipped it over, the opposite side was sporting two letters in black permanent marker ink. HS.

Not long after they started packing away the stage equipment, Ivy and Emma went back through the door with the curtain of stringed beads, going straight to the back table that was reserved for the band. Michelle, Zayn, and Cory were the firsts to join them. Ivy greeted everyone with a bright smile and a quick hug, congratulating them on a great show. She asked Zayn why Alyssa didn’t make it and he told her that their child wasn’t feeling the best, plus he added that she wasn’t a big fan of the bar scene.

“I saw you rocking out. Glad you enjoyed it.” Cory said to Ivy as he sat down next to her.

She smiled back. “You guys were great.”

She was slightly uncomfortable with how close he chose to sit next to her, so she casually slid over towards Michelle, acting as if she was going to start talking to her. She was distracted, though, so Ivy just swallowed gently and tried to ignore it. Maybe Cory meant nothing by it, most likely he didn’t, and she was just being cautious. The last time a man approached her, things did not end very well. She knew Cory wouldn’t do something like that, but there was still that underlying fear of it happening again.

They waited for a few minutes, everyone was talking amongst themselves. Ivy kept to herself, though. She looked inside her small purse, the guitar pick she rescued from the stage was sitting at the bottom. Her cheek got caught between her teeth as a thought crept into her mind. She wanted to return it to him. She wondered where he was and if he would join them. He liked to go off on his own, she had noticed that before, so she feared she might not get the chance to give it back to him tonight. If he did come to where they all were, would she get the opportunity to be alone with him? She didn’t feel as though she would muster up enough courage to give it to him in front of everyone. What if they thought it was weird?

The thoughts vanished from her mind as she suddenly heard his voice. She looked up, smiling gently as she saw that he and Niall had arrived with a round of drinks. She pushed down the lump that appeared in her throat, the thought of the first time she met everyone returned to her mind. Emma had offered her drink up that night because one wasn’t ordered for her.. She didn’t belong then, did she belong now?

“The owners got us two rounds tonight.” Niall said as he handed a cup of beer to Emma, then one to Michelle.

Harry had the other tray in his hand and he actually gave them out instead of placing it on the table. He gave one to Zayn, then to Cory. Ivy felt a ton of bricks land on her shoulders - there were two cups left on the tray. To her utter surprise, Harry grabbed one of them and extended his hand out to her. His eyes weren’t on her, though. She took the cup and mumbled a ‘thank you’ that he didn’t catch. Nobody else seemed to care about the gesture the way she did, no reactions happened. She thought she was just being silly, just a bit dramatic..

“Move over.” Harry said to Cory, expecting him to move to the right.

However, Cory didn’t do that. He slid to the left, opening up a spot right next to Ivy. It made her lips roll into her mouth, would he actually sit down next to her? She nearly froze as Harry sat down. He didn’t care where he sat, he just wanted to finally get off his feet for a while.

“Any drinking contests tonight?” Michelle teased with a laugh, scooting closer to be next to Ivy.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry was looking her way. She nervously laughed and shook her head. “No, not tonight.”

“Oh, come on. Just one?”

“No, no.. I drank too much the last time I was out.. I don’t want to overdo it.” She explained, trying to keep a smile on her face.

“Alright, fine. Next time.. I’m challenging you.” Michelle gave her a quick wink and a nudge of her knee.

Despite not feeling tired, Ivy was mentally drained. Her emotions had swirled so quickly earlier that her brain was exhausted. She couldn’t decide whether she was angry at Harry, embarrassed by everything that’s happened, or glad that he was giving her some sort of attention. She might ever know the meaning behind his stares tonight, but at least she knew they weren’t angry glares like she was used to.

She leaned her back against the comfortable material of the benched seating. She wished she was in her bed, but she wanted to stick it out and have fun the rest of the night. It was hard to keep track of everyone’s conversations, so she just listened to Michelle’s voice since she was closest. She didn’t participate in anything either. Nobody bothered her for a while, she figured they either didn’t want to intrude or didn’t notice her behavior. She wasn’t aware, but there was at least one person in the group that noticed.

Harry couldn’t help himself, she was too close to him. He gave her a quick glance every now and then, wondering if she was feeling sick or if she was sleepy. She had been active most of the night, jumping and dancing around having a good time - now, it was much different. He didn’t speak to her, though.

After a while, Niall and Emma left to go dance. Zayn said something about going to the bar, so Cory offered to join him. Ivy was perfectly content with where she was, sitting in between Harry and Michelle. A few minutes ticked by before Michelle stood up to stretch. She looked down at Ivy and smiled.

“Do you need to go to the restroom?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the small crowd, leaving Harry alone with Ivy.

It was obviously noticed by both of them. Harry tensed up, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the purple light in the center of the table. The glow shined beautiful on his skin, Ivy thought it was ethereal. She wondered what he was in such deep thought about, if anything at all - with the way he was staring at the light, not even blinking as the seconds went by.

She looked around the space, ensuring herself that everyone was gone. Now was her chance to speak to him. If she didn’t do it now, she wouldn’t do it at all and she would have a heap of regret. Quietly, she reached into her purse and took out the pick. She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head towards him.

“Harry.” She said his name carefully, almost too afraid to say it too loud, but she wanted him to hear her over the music.

He thought he was hearing things at first, but when he shifted his head and caught her eyes, he knew she had said his name. He lifted his brows, silently asking her what she wanted. He was surprised she had said anything to him, but he wasn’t disappointed.

“Um.. you dropped this earlier.” She moved her hand so he could see it.

“What?” His brows furrowed, his eyes cutting down to her hand. “Oh. You didn’t have to save it. They’re pretty cheap.” His tone was normal, but there was no laugh or smile laced in his words.

Ivy felt a twist in her stomach as she dropped it in his opened palm. He decided he had to get away from her, so he stood up and adjusted his shirt, about to walk away. Her soft voice caught his attention, any ounce of courage she had moments ago was gone.

“I just thought you’d.. you’d need it.”

When he looked down at her, she had already dropped her head and nervously folded her hands on her lap. He pushed out a sigh and licked his lips, knowing that he needed to be more polite to the girl. It wasn’t like she said anything outlandish. She was being kind to him.. something he wasn’t familiar with reciprocating to her.

“Ivy.”

The sound of his voice speaking her name had the same effect now as it did weeks ago. Her heart started to flutter uncontrollably and her stomach swormed with something much larger than butterflies. She lifted her head, her eyes finding his already staring down at her.

“Yeah?”

He just stared at her for a long moment, debating on how far to take his response. He wasn’t sure what she wanted or how she would take what he said to her. There had to be some resentment she had towards him, it would be impossible to not feel that way. He had done so much to her that was hateful and mean, how could she appreciate any ounce of kindness he gave to her? He stopped overthinking it and just spoke.

“Thanks anyway.”

Once Michelle came back from the restroom, she rejoined Ivy and they started talking about random things. It felt nice to have someone to talk to in the midst of all the intense feelings she was having. It was like she was able to shut it all off and focus on something else for once. Michelle never let the conversations die down, there was always something to talk about with her.

Nobody returned to the table while they were chatting, everyone was enjoying their night in their own ways. Ivy did take a second to wonder where Emma was, but she remembered Niall was with her so the concern wasn’t necessary. She wanted to think about Harry, but she kept her attention on Michelle instead. It was a relief to have a good distraction.

When Michelle started talking about her music preferences and favorite songs, Ivy couldn’t help but to think about the song they performed tonight. She wondered if it was a mutual decision or if someone, Harry or Zayn specifically, decided to play the song. Once Michelle finished her sentence, she decided to bring it up. She felt comfortable changing the topic.

“Hey, random question.” Ivy started with a laugh. “Do you guys switch the set up a lot or is it the same for a while?”

“I think we’re far past random.” Michelle grinned back. “Well, we usually keep it the same for a few months, depends on how many shows we do. We changed a few songs, but at the last minute Harry wanted to add one.”

Ivy raised her brows. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.. like he told us this morning. Luckily we all knew the song already.” She rolled her eyes playfully before sipping her beer.

“Which song was it?” Ivy already felt as though she knew the answer, but she wanted it to be confirmed.

“Crimson and Clover.” Michelle said, adjusting her position on the bench.

Ivy’s heart picked up it’s speed for a few seconds, of course that was the answer she was waiting on. She knew there had to be a reason he added the song and she hoped that it was because of her. Before she had time to fully process the information, Michelle checked her phone and let out a sigh.

“Emma wants us to come dance with her. Niall’s tiring out.”

Ivy looked down at her phone as it vibrated, the same text Michelle got popped onto her screen. “She’s desperate.”

They both laughed and stood up at the same time. Michelle finished off her beer and discarded the cup on the table, Ivy had some left so she just brought it along with her. They slipped into the crowd, thankful that it wasn’t as big as the one in the main part of the building. Michelle spotted Emma and they quickly headed towards her.

“You’re free, Niall.” Michelle said as they approached them.

Niall let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank god.”

Emma gave him a playful shove and told him to go away. Ivy wasn’t particularly thrilled to start dancing again, so she opted for gentle swaying and soft singing, instead of the usual performances she gave. Michelle was more active and hyper, though, so she was able to keep up with Emma.

The girls enjoyed themselves for a short while, the music choices were nice for the most part. Ivy was doing fine until she felt someone’s eyes on her. She thought maybe she was imagining things and was just being paranoid, but after a few more minutes of the intense feeling, she decided to look around. At first, she didn’t see anybody giving her any sort of attention. She started to believe she was losing her mind. That is, until she landed her wandering eyes on a familiar face.

Not far from them was Harry and Cory, and those green eyes she had come to admire so much were staring right at her. Cory was talking and Harry seemed to be listening, or at least pretending to. She felt as though he was back at playing that game of his, making her feel intimidated and nervous. She got the idea to play along with him. Her thick lips shaped to a smile and he knew it was aimed for him and him only. He shook his head lightly and moved his eyes off of her. A proud feeling grew inside of her, she smirked to herself. She was just as good at playing his stupid game.

She was somewhat glad to know that Harry was close by. As much as she hated what happened to her at that club, she was thankful that he was there. If she hadn't found him, there would be no telling what could’ve happened to her. Everything was going well, even though Harry wasn’t looking her way anymore. She thought nothing else of it and just enjoyed the song that was currently on. Emma was forcing her to dance a little more than she wanted, but she couldn’t help but cave in and laugh. Michelle was glad to see she was more energetic now.

Ivy thought that maybe this night would actually be one hundred percent drama free. She didn’t consider the quick conversation she had with Harry as anything bad or hurtful, it was in fact rather calm and normal. But as always, there was something thrown in to ruin the night.

A guy was walking near them when he suddenly got caught up on his own feet and stumbled, his body shooting forward. The girls let out a combined shriek as beer splashed all over them, more so on Ivy than on Michelle. Emma wasn’t close enough for the spill to hit her. Ivy gasped as she touched her shirt the second the liquid soaked through to her skin. Michelle’s mouth was hung open, her hands in the air as she looked down at her legs - that’s where the liquid landed on her.

Harry looked over towards them as soon as they screamed, it was very audible even over the music, he didn’t catch the entire interaction. All he saw was a guy holding an empty plastic cup and the two of them standing there dripping with beer. He could see the stains on their clothes, and a few strands of Ivy’s long hair that soaked up some of the beer.

“Oh my god!” The guy immediately apologized to them, sincerity in his voice. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright.” Michelle said with a nervous laugh, she was shocked that this happened so quickly.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’m so sorry.”

Ivy was about to say something when a tall, broad figure appeared next to her. Harry pushed his way between the girls and the stranger, accidentally pushing Ivy backwards. She didn’t lose her footing though. She shot her eyes to Michelle, who was instantly worried.

“The fuck is your problem?” Harry yelled out, his height towering over the man’s.

Cory quickly ran up to them, too, his brows furrowed as he looked over their beer soiled clothes. He was going to ask what happened, but Harry’s loud voice was taking over.

“I said, what’s your fucking problem?”

“I-I didn’t-“ The poor guy was nervous and stammering, Harry’s demeanor was extremely intimidating.

Michelle grabbed Harry’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move. “Harry, stop!”

“Are you fucking stupid, huh? What the fuck are you doing?” He kept on, yelling in the guy’s face like he had committed a heinous crime.

“He didn’t do it on purpose, Harry!” Emma tried her best to intervene, but she was slightly afraid of what could happen.

The loud screaming had caused quite the commotion, and everyone turned towards them to watch what was unfolding. Niall quickly made his way to where the crowd seemed to gather, he just had a feeling something was going on. He made it back to them just in time to see Harry push his hand into the guy’s chest, sending him back a couple of steps.

“Harry!” Cory called out his name, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone.

Niall ran up to them, grabbing onto Emma’s elbow to pull her away. He asked her what happened and she quickly told him. He sighed and tried to walk in front of the guy, but Harry didn’t allow it. He shoved Niall back, not wanting him to get involved.

“Let it go, Harry.” He still tried his best to end it.

“This motherfucker threw fucking beer on them.” Harry shouted, his eyes locked on the stranger’s instead of on Niall. He wasn’t upset with his friends for trying to stop him, he was furious about the spilled beer that he believed was purposeful.

Ivy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind him. Cory gave her a shake of his head and tried to stop her, but she ignored him. She gasped as Harry pushed him again, shouting the same question over and over.

“He didn’t throw it on us!” She raised her voice, her small hand reaching up to touch Harry’s bicep in an attempt to get her attention.

He felt her touch and immediately looked over, not expecting to see her standing so close. Anger was swept over his face, and it was more terrifying than she thought it would be. He looked like he was about to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. Her hand started to shake so much that it fell from his arm. She stepped back, fear consuming her.

“I fucking watched him do it!” Harry yelled back at her, his words harsh and cold.

She didn’t like the way he screamed so easily towards her, how his anger was taking over him entirely. She licked her lips and tried to keep her composure. Harry’s eyes were glued to her now, he wasn’t even concerned with the guy still gripping the empty cup.

“He tripped, Harry. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Michelle cut in quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Harry shot his eyes back to the guy as he tried to apologize again. He interrupted him with a threatening yell. Everyone in the room had their eyes on them, and the embarrassment was building among the small group. Ivy felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

“Stop it, Harry. You’re the one acting stupid. Calm down, please!” She pleaded with him, trying her absolute best to end this.

Harry turned towards her, making her jump back. Cory grabbed her elbow and forced her back a few more steps, afraid that something might happen. Harry wouldn’t purposely hurt her, but he didn’t want her to get too close in case someone else got hurt. She shook off Cory’s hand, not wanting to be touched.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He spat out, not even considering how mean his voice sounded. Right now all he wanted to do was pound his fists into that guy’s face.

His attention wasn’t on her very long. He returned to the stranger, who Niall was apologizing to. Things were getting heated again as the man tried to explain what had happened, despite everyone else already doing that. Harry wasn’t having any of it. He demanded that the man apologize to the girls before he kicked his ass. It was all very dramatic and intense.

Cory gestured for Michelle to get closer to him and she quickly did. He went to grab Ivy’s arm again, this time more forcibly. He pulled her back towards him, but she didn’t like the way he took control over her. No matter what kind of situation she was in, she didn’t want to be grabbed that way.

“Stop it, Cory!” She let her frustration over Harry’s actions come out, her voice louder than usual.

He let her go, but not before Harry could whip his body around to them, the sound of her voice distracting him from the guy. Niall took the opportunity to guide the man away from them so he could apologize again. Harry had seen Cory’s hand on Ivy’s arm and he felt an immense amount of jealousy and anger, more than he had ever before. It reminded him of the night at the restaurant when Cory so confidently spoke to Ivy and tried to get to know her. It made his skin crawl.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He screamed out, his face flushed bright red and his eyes full of anger.

Cory was confused more than anything. “Woah, relax!”

“What did you do to her?” He asked, trying to close the space between them but Ivy got in the way.

She slid in front of him, her hand hitting against his abdomen accidentally, but she didn’t move it. Her hand flattened against his body. “Harry, stop, please.”

“Why are you freaking out?” Michelle was starting to get scared, she wasn’t sure why Harry was suddenly turning on everyone.

He looked down at Ivy, ignoring everyone else around him. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Then why did you tell him to stop?”

“He just.. tried to pull me out of the way.” Ivy explained, hoping it worked this time. While she wasn’t pleased with how Cory touched her, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t believe that.”

“You’re scaring me.” She blurted out, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her head, not wanting to see his anger ridden features. He looked like he could tear a building out of the ground.

Harry backed up, his eyes trained on her. She felt his presence shifting, her eyes open to see where he was going. She felt a lump forming in her throat as he shoved his hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. She feared he’d explode if someone said one more word to him.

“I have to get out of here.”

That was the last thing he said before he stormed out of the building, leaving everyone more confused than anything. Ivy was speechless. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She had never seen someone so angry before. Even when that guy was following her and Harry got involved, he didn’t act that way. Tonight he was outraged. She actually feared him. Maybe he wasn’t worth all the hassle. He seemed to be more of a problem than she first imagined. Now matter how nice his eyes made her feel earlier.. she didn’t want to see them ever again.

—•—

That next morning was more awkward than anything. Niall had stayed over with Emma and together they prepared breakfast. Ivy was confused when she woke up to the smell of food cooking, and when she strolled into the kitchen in her pajamas, she saw them finishing up. They both greeted her with warm smiles.

“What are you guys doing?” She said through a gentle laugh, looking around at the mess that was made in the kitchen.

“Just making an apology meal for you.” Niall said with a smile, although it wasn’t very funny.

“An apology meal?” She furrowed her brows. “For what?”

He sighed. “For Harry’s behavior, of course.. isn’t that always the case?”

Ivy lifted her brows at his reply, not sure what to say in response. Everyone was very on edge after Harry disappeared last night, and they all left a short time afterwards. When she got home she took a shower immediately, the smell of beer had seeped into her skin and clothes.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Emma grunted. “Yes we do.”

“It was all a misunderstanding.” She mumbled back, taking a seat at the table.

“And it shouldn’t have been.” Niall said. “He embarrasses me every time we go out with you and it drives me crazy.”

“It’s not your fault, though. I.. I understand he was.. drunk and not willing to listen. It’s fine.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s not fine. And we have to make it up to you, again.”

“Maybe one day.. I won’t have to give you so many apologies.” Niall didn’t sound hopeful about that.

“That would be nice.” She tried to have a little humor, not wanting to focus entirely on the situation.

“I just can’t believe he acted that way.” Emma frowned. “Over a spilled drink?”

Once everything was finished cooking, they each got what they wanted and sat down at the table. Ivy stayed quiet as they ate, hoping that no more talk about last night’s events would come up. Niall and Emma were embarrassed and she understood why, she just didn’t want them to focus on it forever. The situation was over, there was no need in pouring fuel into the fire. The person that owed her the biggest apology would never give her one anyway.

[a/n: ok ok ok im super excited for part 6!!! it’s definitely a big turning point for them (an unexpected event forces them to spend time together) it’s going to be worth the wait! hope u enjoy this, reblog like all that nice stuff! see u soon]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown n @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden @prettygurl-2009 @sincerely-yours-marsbar @boopookie @mypolicemanharryyy @angelbunny222 2 @mads3502 @harrysredroom @inlikea-coolway @matildasatellite @imaginexxharry

[kunaigirl]

Long post ahead, but I really want to talk about this...I think? Oh lord here we go, lol. Anyways, confession time!

I struggled with illiteracy and learning to read for a chunk of my life. I've mentioned it (in passing) in this post that I made about my experiences with having epilepsy, but I decided to make an whole post just for this for a change.

Somewhere around when I was in the second grade, I lost my ability to read and write due to a bad seizure I had. (That combined with the medications I was given too.) A lot of my memories are blank from that era, except for a very few instances I remember clearly. What I do remember though, has nothing to do with the seizure or even what lead up to it, all of that's still gone to this day.

I had lost my ability to read, and also was diagnosed with dyslexia during the quest to re-learn from scratch. (On top of already being diagnosed with ADHD when I was about 6.) I remember very vividly how HORRIBLE everything felt. I couldn't remember the names of things, and I had to re-learn, from preschool up, both reading and writing from scratch.

Somewhat luckily, I didn't lose anything else besides those chunks of memories and my ability to read, and I still remembered who I was, what cartoons I liked, my favorite music, etc. But suddenly, I couldn't read the CD titles anymore. I couldn't read the VHS covers. It was gone, ripped away from me very suddenly, and I knew it was missing. I knew that I already learned how to read and write, but it was forced out of me by a malfunctioning brain. I was home schooled because of it from grades 3rd-5th. (2003-2005)

In the third grade, I had made just enough progress to get books for 5 year olds. Everyone around me acted so proud, but all I could do was cry. I was humiliated. I felt so incredibly stupid, as being illiterate leaves you with no choice but to feel stupid. I threw those baby books around my room and sat on the floor crying. It wasn't fair, I didn't do anything wrong, it was my damn seizures. I had no control.

When I went back to public school for 6th grade, I got called stupid, the r-slur, illiterate, slow, basically every name in the book. Both kids and adults, all throughout those years while I continued to re-learn in real time. In middle school, my reading level was still low for my age, and I had to be in a special program with extra assistance and teacher accommodations. As soon as word got out, the kids were RELENTLESS. It was 06-07, nobody cared about bullying/etc, especially for a public middle school. The bullying never stopped.

I kept working and studying, slowly making progress. Years of struggling, learning to cope, inventing my own short-cuts to help read a little easier, using rulers and paper edges to help guide my eyes, everything. I was still in "special" classes with accommodations all through high school too. My senior year of high school, I graduated on the honor role list. Did that make me happy? It felt nice for sure, but better? Not by much. I knew how hard I still struggled, and still felt very embarrassed by it all. I'll never forget.

As a kid, the pain I felt was so intense. Physically from the seizure, and in every other way with having to re-learn how to spell t-r-e-e. Starting over with pre-K toddler books at 7. Kindergarten level at age 8, and a first grade level as a 9 year old. The feeling of having my memories ripped away just enough to leave me unable to recognize the symbols that decorated everything from posters to TV to book covers. Being told by a room full of doctors and neurologists what had happened, and being quizzed and tested to see what I still had left.

I have never forgotten those long nights. Even though I was a child, the shame and guilt and fear I felt were VERY real and very tense. And the jokes/remarks from both kids AND adults, the notebooks filled with raw squiggly anger, the uphill climb to regain what was taken from me. I will NEVER forget it. Even in college, I struggled with those heavy textbooks and their tiny fonts. I did well enough, but no one else struggled the way I did with them. I did my work and wrote my essays, but it would take full entire days. It still does.

At times, as an adult, I still get stuck on words. I can obviously read and write again, as you can see with this exact post, but it's not over. I struggle with certain fonts, and some books are just to difficult. I still work at it and still try as hard as I can even to this very goddamn day. It never truly ended, all these years later, 20 years later, I still sometimes fight to understand. I feel like an angry and humiliated kid again in those moments, but I'm not that kid or teen anymore. I lived thought it somehow.

I had a dream back when I was 17, where I'm standing in from of my 9 year old self and that pile of baby books. She's crying and looking at me, desperately. I walk over and hug her, proudly telling her "We read The Great Gatsby in high school, and we understand it."

To anyone who has struggled with illiteracy at non-toddler-points in their lives, I see you. To anyone who's struggled with reading comprehension, I see you. To anyone who struggled with writing, I see you. We don't talk about it enough, and I want to change that. I don't want to hide that side of my life experience anymore. Fuck shame, we climbed out of it.

And to this day, a copy of "The Great Gatsby" is still on my shelf. Because I read it in high school, and 9 year old me would've thought that was the coolest achievement ever.

[pocket-jack]

Hey, guys! I decided to torture myself before sleep beacause... Why not? So, here's KidKiller's rough sheets with some headcanons I have for the guys (probably with a lot off mistakes cus my browser refuses to fix them for me)

Kid time, baby

I draw him differently now. I know his face looks more... diamond shaped in anime, but I can't get rid of his square coded energy, so... Heart-shaped it is!

When he recieved his eye scar he didn't lose the ability to see, but now it get's dry really fast and if he won't do something about it it'll gonna ache.

He had multiple piercings on his ear, but his powers just kept pulling them and one day almost ripped his ear of, so he (with a manly tears) decided to take them off.

I headcanon him wearing a corset, because he's a little chubby and he can't get rid of this extra fat (not with his appetites). Also everytime when he takes it off, not only he's forced to look at his hanging stomach, but he's also has to fight off Killer. Killer's only dream was for Kid to be well fed and happy.

Nor his, nor Killer's sexuality is defined by them, but actually based out of other's observations. Kid is pansexual because he's kinda gender blind. For him it's confusing that you're weak just because you have tits and extra hole between your legs. He's also demiromantic. Both of those preference he acquired during Kutsukku (where you couldn't trust anyone, even your lover. And where the gender norms were the least of your concerns)

He also have undiagnosed ADHD which mostly give him extra impulsivity and also now the metal can speak (thank ye, neurodivergency!). Sometimes it's stresses him the hell off, especially during Kutsukku. He could not sleep because of all of this buzzing he kept hearing from EVERYWHERE. Now he can control it, but sometimes it returnd and he has to suffer.

Metal also responds to his hidden emotions. It may float when he thinks, reflects or remembering something. It may rumble when he's angry, concerned, scared. Or it may form something if he's happy, in love or something like that.

He's hard rock kinda guy, we all know this, but I headcanon him as a music lover in general (so whatever makes his brain go bzzt, mostly rock). I find Thrown a couple of month ago and it's sounds like something Kid would like (probably even kin, esp Backfire). MSI is a basic thing for him to have (every punk need at least one song in their playlist). I guess not every person will understand it, but Пшлнхй is such a Kid coded song (Every Russian proverb, but one part is just sending you to fuck yourself is something that Kid would do irl. The chorus is just... mmm)

Killer, my beloved!!!!

I love headcanoning him as androgenous. He has a feminine features: oval shaped face, eyes with big eyelashes, even his lips is a little softer than the average male lips. That is the main reason why he hid his face, because everyone would bully him fot it when he was young. Killer was confused with a girl a lot during his time on Kutsukku.

During timeskip he strained a lot of muscles just to get stronger. He was neglecting himself most of the time, because he had a mission: to become stronger so he'll never fail to protect Kid ever again. They also been really distant during their training. Only when Killer hurted his arm they bounded again. Kid was surprisingly a good mentor for his healing. Probably because their trauma was almost the same

When he's wearing a mask he usually get's his hair out of the way so it wouldn't mess with his vision

Pre timeskip he wanted to work on his style, feeling obliged to do so, cus his crew was dressing up in colorful styles. He choose to fit into more West Bluish kinda style (cowboy boots and pants). But then anxiety hitted him and suddenly he felt too vissible and everyone was looking at him and... Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant expirience for him. He just wanted to show that he was a part of the crew too, but now he feels himself too overreacting and dramatic and stuff. It took a lot of time for everyone to convince him that it wasn't about the look, but more about the comfort. With their support Killer started wearing something he likes more, and it felt fantastic. He actually started to like himself in the mirror a bit more after timeskip and then Wano happened

Killer is asexual beacuse of the amount of trauma he suffered during his childhood. I hc him having a low libido too. He's still feels romantic attraction (only for Kid), and if he asks, Killer will have sex with him without hesitation. But it's only for Kid, OR for his sake

It is so logical for him to have OCD. Just him casualy living and then the dread that if he won't do something usefull his crew will see how fucking usless and worthless he actually is and live him behind the same his parents did just suddenly hits him. Oh hey! Anxiety! Abandonment issues! This man will explode, please, give him a hug.

It got worse after Wano. He's doing bad things with his face and no one knows. Even Kid. (I love making them suffer for the sake of Hurt\Comfort)

I am 100% sure Killer is a Queen guy. It just gives me Killer vibes... The same with Elton John. And also... To fit in his pre timeskip cowboy vibes into the oven,,, He's actually like country rock alongside with glam rock. Barns Courtney is his favorate

So... How do you like my silly little headcanons? Maybe I post something about Heat and Wire too. Welp, I'm fainting out of exaustion, bye!

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 14

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Trapped in your own subconscious, floating aimlessly on a platform without walls or support. At any moment, you could lose your balance and fall.

Walking with determined steps, wet hair falling over your eyes and obscuring your vision. He was about to catch up with you again when you glanced back over your shoulder. The cold pierced through your torn clothes, and the movement of your flesh sent a burning sensation through your wounds, making your legs falter from the pain. Your internal organs vibrated with a visceral discomfort, as if they were being endlessly torn apart, and your vision was distorted by vertigo.

The sound of intense breathing echoed in your ears as you forced your body to keep running—or rather, dragging itself in quick, stumbling steps. The atmosphere around you was nonexistent, a complete darkness, with only the ground faintly illuminated, following your bloodied, cut feet. An endless trail of crimson blood stretched out behind you.

In the distance, you could hear his whispering voice and the sound of his laughter, mixed with the smell of alcohol that overwhelmed your nostrils. But it wasn’t just booze—your body was completely soaked in the flammable liquid. His hand grabbed your throat from behind, enveloping your body in a crushing tension, and his hot breath was close to your face, making your heart race with fear. Your eyes were wide and fixed on the lighter he held. A simple click of the silver object drew a muffled sound from your lips as you accepted it.

You were about to burn.

3 minutes and 40 seconds.

That was the limit your brain could endure without oxygen, suffocating while your body remained submerged in water that covered you entirely. The sides of the bathtub prevented your return to the surface, and you were so close, feeling your lungs fill up more and more. Your ability to comprehend dissolved, and the forced lack of air made your eyes close, surrendering to the weakness of your body.

When you finally regained control of your delirious mind and pushed away the shadow looming over your shoulders, you surfaced back into this plane with a jolt, breaking through the bathtub’s water in a frantic coughing fit. You gulped air into your aching lungs and bruised ribs, pushing your hair back as you recognized the familiar surroundings. The mixture of pink-tinted water spilled over the porcelain, flowing toward the drain just a few inches away.

It was your bathroom.

This was already the fourth episode of the week. If it weren’t for your ability to shock your mind out of the trance with a near-death jolt, I don’t know where you’d be now.

You looked down at the inside of your thighs, mutilated after yesterday morning. The deep pressure of the cuts made with the dagger revealed just how far you were from escaping the previous crisis.

Each day, the visions grew more intense and less unreal, defying your control without any kind of stimulus. This meant you had to get more creative, pushing yourself harder, because you knew that the deeper the pain or agony you inflicted, the quicker your return to reality.

There were 12 shows, interviews, rehearsals, new stage design meetings, studio sessions to compose and work on the new album, trips, flights, private performances, TV programs, and music video shoots. All this within the span of a single month.

Your body was so exhausted that you could barely think for more than two minutes. You were in such an automatic state that you had the fleeting sensation that everything you did was involuntary, as though your body performed the actions on its own, without even asking your brain for permission, so rehearsed had your movements become.

On the way to yet another rehearsal for the band’s new clothing collection, you saw your phone’s screen light up on the passenger seat, but you ignored it and kept your foot pressed on the accelerator. It wasn’t as if you were in any condition to drive, but you didn’t have another option. Even though your hands trembled against the leather steering wheel, you gripped it tightly while blowing cigarette smoke into the air.

Your body consumed nothing but cigarettes and coffee. You were so weak that you couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to eat anything. You had grown to hate the sound of your own chewing and the sensation of food scratching your throat.

Simple things like that seemed to lose their value as the days went by, and with them, their meaning. You could barely taste flavors, smell scents; even textures felt different. Slowly, you felt as though you were detaching from yourself, watching your regression as a mere spectator.

The photoshoot was outdoors. You arrived to find the guys already dressed and chatting among themselves. Some crew members were adjusting the location’s lighting, while the photographer fine-tuned the camera lens. You felt a bit cold and pulled your hoodie tighter around you before stepping forward. But before you could reach them, you froze in place.

Noah was with a girl, someone you didn’t recognize. She was wearing a hoodie and pants from the band’s collection while a woman finished touching up her makeup. She wouldn’t stop talking. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t enough to bother you, even though you didn’t know what was going on, but you were a good liar.

“Don’t do this.” A hand grabbed your arm and subtly pulled you back. Gerard brought you close enough to him that you couldn’t avoid catching the woody scent of his breath. “Don’t think about ruining another rehearsal.”

“As far as I know, I’m part of this too, and that’s my role today.” With a sharp look, you yanked your arm free from his grip.

“No, you’re not.”

“What?” Your brow furrowed immediately as you followed Gerard’s gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the scene ahead.

Noah and the girl were talking. He was showing her something on the tablet, explaining how she should position herself in front of the camera. It was impossible to ignore the deep unease boiling in your stomach, a sensation as if acidic liquid were burning inside.

“She’s the one who’s going to take the photos in your place. Isn’t that great?”

“What do you mean, in my place?” you asked, watching as his shoulders shrugged dismissively, as though he didn’t have the answer.

“Noah came up with the idea, and I agreed. I called a better model, someone with way more charisma than you—which isn’t hard.”

His eyes wavered, scanning you from head to toe with disdain. The way he always looked at you with disapproval and exhaustion, as if you were nothing but a burden, stirred a nearly nostalgic ache.

Sometimes, Gerard reminded you of your mother. She would act similarly when bound to a commitment with you, though it never made her like you any better or stopped her from seeing your existence as a burden throughout your time together.

He was exactly like that.

“I’ve always said your relationship is destroying the band. The less you two do together, the better,” he stated bluntly. “Look at how they communicate—she does what he says, and he’s happy about it. She’s pretty, polite; I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be a great shoot. Maybe he’ll even ask her out after.”

“You’re lying. This wasn’t his idea,” you contested, crossing your arms as you analyzed the scene before you. They did seem well in sync, and for a moment, you saw him smile.

He smiled at her.

“Why would I lie?” Gerard said, drawing your attention back to his impassive face. “You’re going downhill. Your appearance gets worse every day. Not even all that makeup you use can hide it anymore. He’s tired of you, tired of this rotten version of you and the trail of destruction you’ve left in his life. He’s realized he might be capable of attracting a decent woman, and look…”

He paused briefly, as if ensuring he was hitting his mark.

“Slowly, he’s finally replacing you,” he taunted. “And wouldn’t it be interesting if he suddenly realized there are better voices out there than yours and decided to get rid of you once and for all?”

“Are you sure I’d think that’s a bad thing?” you replied, exhaling a tired tone and shrugging with a laugh.

If that was what you’d always wanted since realizing how much harm you caused him, why couldn’t you feel better about it? Instead, it felt like déjà vu—a cutting sensation dragging you back to not so long ago, when everything truly fell apart for the last time, and you felt him slipping through your fingers.

Your saliva turned acidic. Slowly, you took a few steps back. On the sidewalk, you chose to sit and smoke another cigarette while watching the cars move down the street. There was no doubt it was an excellent choice. She was a pretty, friendly girl, brimming with life and seemingly determined, with a maddening passion for things, healthy skin, a beautiful smile. She was simply everything you had never been.

And you couldn’t help but think that someone like her was exactly who should have crossed his path.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Ruffilo’s voice made you lift your head and squint against the light. After a crooked smile, he got the message and took a seat beside you, close enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the same scene.

“It’s not true, is it?” you surprised him with the question before he could say anything. “It wasn’t his idea, was it?”

He took a deep breath and slowly tilted his head to rest it on yours. From this distance, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry."

“Do you agree?” Your question came out innocently as you raised your head to look at him. He let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course not, silly,” he assured, and your tense shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “None of us agreed because we wanted the band to stay together, but you know how Noah is when he gets an idea in his head, and apparently, this one was pretty solid.”

Nothing new under the sun.

You agreed with him on the notion of keeping some distance, but the difference between you and Noah was that your attempts didn’t involve making him feel like garbage in the process. Noah had never hidden his veiled attempts at revenge, and anything that made you feel inferior seemed to give him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Screw it,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Out of all of us, he’s the only one thrilled to keep designing clothing collections we never see a dime from.”

“My opinion isn’t far from yours. Sure, I get why Noah feels gratitude toward Gerard for believing in us when we were nothing, and I acknowledge his role in the band’s success, but that doesn’t make him a fair guy. Honestly, I feel like being under Gerard’s thumb holds us back,” he confessed, loosening the hug and sitting upright. “In almost ten years, we could’ve toured more countries, reached more audiences, done something different instead of the same old thing. We all feel like we work for a band, but we’re not really part of it.”

“Back when we played in a garage, it seemed so much simpler.”

“Because back then, we were a group. Everyone wrote together, everyone listened, everyone had a say in the creative process for the first album—we were a family. You get what I mean?” he said, turning his face toward you slowly. “I can’t blame you or your relationship with Noah because, deep down, we’re all in the same boat.”

“Are we?”

“You’re starting to feel like this isn’t for you anymore, aren’t you? That you’re not doing it out of passion, but because you have to. Like there’s no love left in any of it.”

Your heart tightened as you realized he wasn’t alone in feeling this way—the others felt it too. Ruffilo was absolutely right, and the conversation became even more painful when you remembered the energy your shows used to have compared to now. You weren’t sure if the fans noticed, if they sensed that you’d rather be anywhere but on stage because every day it felt like another piece was stripped away from you.

“We’ll figure it out,” you tried to reassure him, giving his side a light nudge with your elbow. “We just need to get this damn album out of the way and ditch that guy. Once the band’s back in our hands, things will work again, our way—and that includes putting Noah in his place.”

“You’re tough as hell,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of your head and pulling you into another hug. “I envy that.”

Oh, he didn’t need to worry—if there was one thing you weren’t, it was tough.

After rehearsal, a meeting with the band was called to finalize more details about the new album. You were testing sounds and organizing potential tracks with what you already had. He didn’t even greet you when he arrived and took a seat at the table, and honestly, it made no difference. You just wanted to wrap up the conversation and go home.

“Of the tracks we have so far, Violence Against Nature is the only one we haven’t recorded yet. Noah, you need to carve some time out of your ridiculously packed schedule to check this off the list,” you pointed out while scribbling in the notebook on the table.

Everyone at the table exchanged glances, and the guys lowered their heads. Folio ran a hand down his face and muttered something like, "Oh no." Your eyebrow shot up in confusion, and you turned your gaze to Noah, who seemed to be rehearsing his words as he tapped his fingertips on the table.

“We’re not going to record that song together,” he said all at once, directing his attention to the table as you stopped scribbling and looked at him. “I want it to be a collaboration with someone else.”

“We agreed this album wouldn’t have collaborations.”

“Well, I just changed my mind.”

Setting the pen down on the table, you took a deep breath. You hadn’t left home that morning prepared to argue with anyone, least of all him, no matter how much he tested your patience. If this was a test, you’d come out unscathed.

“Since when do we make decisions alone, Noah?” you asked, tilting your head. “Last I checked, we’re not the producers of your solo career. We’re a band, and everything we do or plan to do needs to be discussed!”

“Okay, then let’s discuss it now!” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Nothing annoyed you more than when he acted immature on purpose.

“I didn’t write a song just to be left out of it because you decided this out of sheer spite!”

“It wasn’t a decision made out of spite.”

“Then what’s the reason?”

“I don’t want to sing with you anymore,” he declared so easily that it left you speechless for a few seconds. Your friends sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling as if being in the middle of all this was pure torture. “We’re stuck in the same band because of the contract, but I can’t stand sharing anything with you anymore—be it on stage, in the studio, on a plane while traveling. I can’t even bear the sound of your voice. Is that what you wanted to hear? It’ll be three collaborations; it won’t be that bad. You haven’t been into all this for a long time anyway…”

Maybe you’d felt annoyed at him before or had been angry after your countless arguments, but you’d never truly felt rage toward Noah—not until now. You were just as tired as everyone else, which was evident in everyone’s faces, but even in a moment like this, he couldn’t think of anything but himself.

It wasn’t as if he were clueless. He knew how important the band was to you. He knew your poor performance was never intentional. You never agreed with the label, never wanted to be in this environment controlled by that man as if you were a puppet. You never wanted to be like Noah.

But that never lessened your love for the band. You just wanted it back and were working tirelessly to make that happen, and he was discarding you.

Placing a firm hand on the table, you rose carefully, a brief vertigo nearly forcing you to sit back down, but you held steady. Every step you took toward him felt like the ground vibrated under your feet, your veins pulsing with heated anger. In response, he made a point of not breaking eye contact. Slowly, you leaned in, bringing yourself level with his height while he sat. Noah took a deep breath, seemingly pushing his limits to keep his eyes locked on yours without assessing the rest of your face now so close.

“Fine, you can have three, four, even ten collaborations if you want, sweetheart,” you assured him with a nod, offering a restrained smile that quickly faded into a serious expression. “But you’ll have to write your own songs for them.”

“What? Everything you’ve written belongs to the band!” he snapped, leaning closer.

“Oh, now you want to talk like a band member? Look at this, guys!” You laughed, never breaking eye contact. “Nothing is officially produced or handed over to the label yet; they all still belong to me. So, if you’re really better than everyone here and ready to work alone, it’s simple: write.”

You had just played a dirty card against him.

Bad Omens didn’t have time to rewrite any songs, especially not Noah, who hadn’t been able to create anything in ages. He was at your mercy, and just for his arrogance, you were going to watch his collaboration idea go down the drain until he crawled back with an apology.

It might not have been the wisest move, and you might have been just as immature as him, but today, you weren’t feeling particularly creative.

You were, however, ready to make him have as long and miserable a night as yours when you turned your back and finally left the studio with your friends.

In your room, the dim light reigned, but you hadn’t bothered to turn it off since you arrived and settled on the bed. Propped up against the satin pillow, you were forcing raw chocolate cake batter down your throat, chasing it with sips of pure gin, as you reflected on life.

Awful.

Maybe you shouldn’t think at all.

Just when you thought you were making progress, something always managed to pull you back.

Not even those pathetic soap opera protagonists are as unlucky as you.

Your irritating thoughts were interrupted by the glare of your phone lighting up the bedspread. From a distance, you noticed two messages had come in. You took another sip of the drink and exhaled with a hint of disgust as you leaned over to grab the device.

When your eyes landed on the message in the notification bar, your entire body froze from head to toe.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

You clutched the phone tightly against your chest as your breathing became erratic. When yet another message arrived, the device vibrating against your body, you hurled it against the wall with a piercing scream that rattled your throat and ended in a dry, agonizing whimper.

This was impossible.

You were losing your mind.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[lokittystuckinatree]

Happy Pride losers, I’m ready to be clowned but my dumb ass is now convinced Rogue is the Master…

Rogue and Renegade have eerily similar meanings under the right circumstance.

To rebel against an organized group. To go rogue.

An endearingly naughty person

Koschei, our second fave Renegade Time Lord

Apparently they were also called a Rogue Time Lord? I am not making this up.

Although Maestro is Master in Italian and look how that turned out

“Lord” interesting.

Red and Blue. The master and 13 were red and blue coded respectively. Have they switched, Symbolically?

Rogue was looking at the Doctor rather nefariously, even once they were buddies. Just go through some of the scenes again. It’s harder than you’d think to tell if he’s trying to seem seductive or evil

The entire premise of this ep seems to be “things are not as they seem; people are not as they appear” which is a Master staple

The Master has been haunting the fuck out of the narrative lately.

Here’s my thread on just how much

When I saw the first trailer, I instinctively thought “ballroom dance guy” was gonna be the new Master

The inside of Rogue’s (familiarly messy) ship has controls eerily similar to the configuration of a TARDIS.

Rogue is obviously a time traveler if he has that space ship and knows DnD (Rogue + Time + Lord. Oh?)

DnD might be a dead giveaway

Was Rogue’s name being inspired by DnD necessary to include? Cute thing the writers wanted to put in, or clue?

Why would Rogue know what DnD was but not know what cosplay or improv was?

The Master has been taken prisoner by the Toymaker, infamous for his love of? Games. You know who also has a running theme of “winning” and “losing”? The Master

In DnD you play as a character and rely on skill and chance to survive within the confines of a structured storytelling game. Bending the rules is often involved. The Master tried that against the Toymaker and failed.

DnD players will often have little tiny figurines of their characters. Remind you of anything?

the Master is a dnd rogue archetype. Trickster, lone wolf, shapeshifter.

If the Doctor is symbolically trapped in a TV show, is the Master trapped in a game? If the Toymaker is the DM, is he going rogue against the Toymaker?

The Master is infamous for their disguises and “cosplays” and has catfished the Doctor before.

Rogue is almost suspiciously too much the Doctor’s type. He’s like the love child of River Song and Jack Harkness. He is exactly the type of character the Master would create to lure and seduce the Doctor.

He and the Doctor just…get each other. It’s like they’ve known each other for much longer than a few hours. They’re too cushy (haha)

Rogue threatened to kill the Doctor, and then imprisoned him in a nice little cage. Familiar?

He tried to make the Doctor kill Ruby, who we all know is just Clara 2.0. Familiar?

He knows too much and too little

He knew the party was attended by alien birb people but only knew about one alien birb? And did he reaaaally think Doc was an alien bird?

The Dancing. They knew they wanted there to be a dance party before they even settled on a time period setting for the episode. Enough said.

The ring was…interesting

That’s a lot of commitment, even if only a promise ring. Something tells me he intended it as an engagement ring though

Someone tried to write a book in the 80s where 5 and Ainley were ex spouses, but it was shot down

Just an unrelated detail, but a ring on the pinky is a gay thing

Mirroring. Thoschei do that. A lot.

“You!” “No, you!” “no, you!”

The way they danced

The scene where they kept turning on and off the music

Speaking of music…Bad Guy by Billie Eilish? Too on the nose? Can’t get you out of my head? Poker face?

You remember that lady’s hand that picked up the Master in his widdle toof? Hand of the Rani?

This episode was written by two women. The Master would literally be in women’s hands

I remember watching Sacha Dhawan’s Spy Master for the first time and going…darn, he reminds me so much of Avengers era Loki. Kate Herron directed season 1 of the Loki Series and had a lot of creative control. Would it really be surprising if RTD (confirmed Loki fan) went to her for the Master after Sacha?

Didn’t Russell say he’s leaving the Master for “other writers?”

“The Master is parked” did he happen to park a Tardis disguised as an everyday spaceship???

In an interview, Kate said she and Briony designed Rogue to be the Doctor’s “equal”

References

“When I see him, I’ll know” and he is drawn to Rogue like a magnet.

“Travel with me” who must you be to want the Doctor to be your companion instead of vice verse

“We can argue across the stars”

“I’m in your head” + “can’t get you out of my head” + the Master being referenced multiple times in almost every episode since PoTD

“I’m trigger happy” feels really fucking intentional

He said “find me.” If he is the Master, the person he lost was the Doctor, (notice he said “them” and not “her” or “him?”) and the Master and Doctor always find each other.

Scream of the Shalka? And didn’t the Master fall through the floor like 40 times in Curse of Fatal Death? Richard E Grant was the Doctor in both of those.

For more, @bugeater77 and friends have this lovely thread

Guys CHECK MY REBLOG, RTD posted something wild.

[sentientgolfball]

for the smut prompts, Cirrus and Swiss with #9? <3

Swiss ghoul's favorite position is amazon, in this essay, I will--

Send a prompt and a pair !

Cirrus prides herself on staying in control. She stays focused on her music during rituals even with the thick cloud of sweat and arousal that usually comes from one of the others. She doesn’t get riled up by Swiss’ antics both on and off stage no matter how persistent he is. She keeps her hands to herself when Cumulus wants her opinion on a new outfit, even if all she wants to do is rip the clothes right off her. She can even hold out through doses of quintessence that would have any other ghouls shaking. Aether was pleasantly surprised when he found out that one, it’s all the more rewarding when he finally gets her there. She is perfectly in control of her mind and body and she likes it that way. 

But twice a year when summer turns to autumn and winter to spring, she loses that control. She hates it. It’s not necessary. She doesn’t understand why out of all the things that clung to them when moving from the Pits to Topside it was this. Though at the moment her brain is too muddled by heat to think of anything other than chasing pleasure. 

It hit earlier this year, she has no idea why. That doesn’t matter right now though. What matters is that her clothes are sticking to her and she can feel slick soaking into her underwear. Cumulus wasn’t with her. She spent the night with Mountain. Surely that’s why her gut is twisting. She needs Cumulus. She wanders through the hallway in a haze. Her only goal is to get to Mountain’s room. She needs to get there. She needs to bury her nose in Cumulus’ soft hair and lick her until she cums on her face. 

“Cir?” 

She turns at the call of her name. Swiss is standing in his doorway, half asleep and shirtless. He blinks at her, eyebrows pulled together. 

“You okay?” His voice is still raspy from disuse. 

Cirrus can’t stop herself from striding towards him. His eyes widen as she quickly closes the distance between them. She runs her nose up the column of his throat, breathing in his amber and spice scent. It hits her all at once, a desperate need to smell like him. To taste him. She wasn’t burning for Cumulus. She’s burning for Swiss. She pushes him back into his room, kicking the door shut behind her. 

“Cirrus what—?” He wraps his hands around her biceps. 

“Need you. Need you right now.” She looks up at him. 

It hits him then. Cirrus never looks desperate, but that’s the only word to describe the look on her face. With his mind starting to fully wake up he finally registered the horribly sweet scent radiating off of her. He blinks. She’s in heat. And she wants him to help her break it. Him. Not Cumulus. Him. A grin slowly spreads across his face. 

“Oh my sweet little harpy you must need it bad if you came to me. What? Too stupid to go find your mate? Had to jump the first person you see?” 

She leans forward and sinks her fangs into his scent gland making him yelp, “Shut the fuck up. Strip. Lay on the bed.” 

He does so immediately. He may like to tease, but he won’t hold out on her. In any other circumstance he would. He would want to see what would be the magic words to get her to tie him up and leave him in the common room with the biggest plug she could find shoved up his ass, but not now. Not with something like this. So he rips his sweats off and lays back on the bed. 

She undresses as quickly as she can, sports bra and lounge shorts thrown who knows where. She crawls onto the bed, resting between Swiss’ legs. Her eyes rake over him, figuring out how she wants him. Swiss on the hand can’t look away from where she’s drooling onto the sheets. As wet as a water ghoul. He can start to feel his cock chub up. He’s so distracted staring at her cunt that he jumps when Cirrus wraps a hand around him. She pets up the length of his cock, occasionally squeezing until he’s at full hardness. 

Once she’s satisfied she drops him, letting him lay hot and heavy against his stomach. He watches her with half lidded eyes as she grabs his knees and pulls them up to his chest. 

“Hold,” she growls. 

“Yes ma’am,” he lilts and grabs the backs of his thighs. 

She reaches between his legs and pulls his cock through the gap. She slides up, practically sitting on the back of his thighs. It clicks in his mind as she starts to sink down on him. He groans when that slick heat wraps around him. He laughs, a little breathless already. This is always his favorite thing to do with her. 

“Yeah go on, don’t hold back. Fuck me like how I fuck you.” His hands grab at her hips when she’s flush against him. 

He drops his head back against the pillows when she starts to thrust. Swiss has never been more happy to be the one to break a heat. 

[wholoveseggs]

Mikaelsons & Marijuana

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

420 Followers

Hello my loves, I have reached the (very important) milestone of 420 followers! So I thought it would be a fun (& very stupid) idea to do some silly little headcanons about what kind of stoner each of the Mikaelsons would be...

♡♡ Ps. This is definitely the dumbest thing I've ever written, and I didn't tag anyone because I respect your time ~ lol ~ ♡♡

1k words - Warnings: drugs use

~☮~ Klaus ~☮~

- He smoked a lot of weed in the 18th century, mostly to just pass the time. It's not something he likes to make a habit of, because it makes him feel very human and that unsettles him.

- It somehow makes him more paranoid, but about stupid things, like, what if the reason he can't find a matching sock is because Kol is trying to make him think he's going crazy? Turn the family against him? Does Elijah really know what's in his shampoo?

- He will start a new painting every time he gets high, but never finishes it because he starts a new one when he's high again, and that one looks so much better, why would he finish this one when there's such a great one he can work on?

- He also gets really fascinated by the moon, he will just lay out on the roof or in the garden and just stare at it for hours. Wondering if he could survive the vacuum of space. Everyone ignores him when he gets like this, because they are afraid if he is even slightly encouraged, he’ll do it. Imagine him in charge of the ISS?? Terrifying.

~☮~ Rebekah ~☮~

- Her fav way to get high is through edibles. She will make a whole day out of it, baking the best treats and doing lots of self-care. It makes her very giggly and snuggly.

- She loves to take long baths when she's high, they make her feel like she's floating. She uses bath bombs, candles, rose petals, soft music, etc. Creating a relaxing environment for herself.

- She prefers to be alone, treats it a lot like meditation and will get a little annoyed if someone disturbs her.

- After all of the self-care she will put on her softest pajamas and sleep for at least a whole day.

~☮~ Kol ~☮~

- Kol is a bit of a scientist, always finding a new way to consume. He will try any form; smoking, vaping, edibles, drinks, dabs, tincture. You name it.

- He prefers to just smoke it, because it has the most powerful and immediate effect. He likes to see what it will do to his brain, or make him do. It makes him a very curious boy, he will test his own limits.

- As a witch, he will get his room all smoky and do stupid spells that will cause a light show. Sometimes the spells will even backfire on him and make him lose control of his limbs, or start levitating. It's pretty funny.

- As a vampire he gets incredibly horny and hungry, and often needs to be watched over so he won't go completely off the rails.

~☮~ Davina ~☮~

- Gets frightened and doesn't like the paranoia and lack of control. But sometimes she will try it with Kol and they will just cuddle and watch her favorite movies. He never pressures her to try it and always makes her feel safe.

~☮~ Elijah ~☮~

- Always refined, he will only smoke the best hydroponics mixed with the finest tobacco. It has to be premium and it has to be a very special occasion. He has to feel like he earned it, and that's difficult to do.

- He will spend a long time rolling it, making sure it's perfect. It's got to have just the right amount of weed, be perfectly shaped, the paper has to be perfectly smooth, the rolling motion has to be flawless and the filter just right.

- He can't stand the smell and will immediately shower afterwards, then he will get dressed up in his nicest suit, sit in his study and listen to classical music.

- If he gets really high he will want affection. He will lay with you and talk about some nonsensical philosophy, try to unpack things like the meaning of life. He will whisper poetry and kiss your cheeks. It's quite endearing, he gets all blushy and bashful.

~☮~ Marcel ~☮~

- He is always up for sharing, and always has the best bud on him. He will make it a very casual experience and offer some to the other vampire's that have been good to him. It's a time for everyone to unwind and chill for a little bit.

- He's definitely just a social smoker though, when he gets high alone he can fall into melancholy.

- He loves to get high with Rebekah, he will take her on the most elaborate and romantic dates, where they just eat an enormous amount of food... And maybe find someone to drink from together.

~☮~ Hayley ~☮~

- Has tried it a few times when hanging out with the werewolves. It makes her feel calm, and the colours around her just get brighter. She doesn't really understand it and isn't that into it, but she likes that she feels more connected to her pack.

- She likes to use CBD before she transforms into a wolf. It dulls the excruciating pain that comes from that, and she's grateful that it takes her mind off the torture for just a while.

- Jackson loves it, uses it in a spiritual way and is a very good guide for her on the matter. He makes her laugh and makes her feel safe when they are alone, sharing a joint, talking about life, and their plans for the pack.

~☮~ Freya ~☮~

- It freaks her out because it makes her feel sleepy and unfocused, which she does not enjoy at all. She finds it to be a waste of her time and feels like it could never be that enjoyable to be stoned all of the time, there are so many better ways to pass the time.

- But she will experiment with using it in her magic, and will make some potent edibles for her beloved sister. She does think it has some medicinal purposes.

- She is very fascinated by it, and will watch as the other's indulge. She will be the one to find Klaus watching the moon, it amuses her to see him so carefree.

~☮~ Esther ~☮~

- Didn't know exactly what it was one thousand years ago, but liked to add some to her tea. It would make the stress of living with Mikael much easier to deal with.

- Perhaps drank too much tea one day and had the genius idea to make her children immortal. Totally worked out well for her.

~☮~ Mikael ~☮~

- Would never, makes you weak and complacent. If you wanted to be so carefree and useless you might as well be dead.

~☮~ Finn ~☮~

- Tried it once, didn't inhale.

[aryaqua-reh2o]

The Full Moon ending is perfect!

A day in Stolas and Blitzø’s lives that summarises what’s happened so far. 

Blitzø and Stolas are perfectly disastrous in their way and of course, they were going to collide at some point. After brewing for one and a half seasons, the miscommunication between these adorable idiots peaked. Who’s fault is that? Both! And in equal part! I can’t stand reading how many people blamed Blitzø alone. The truth is, they both acted incredibly wrong and also incredibly well for who they are. 

Let’s start with Stolas: he ran out of his happy pills on the most important day of his life (probably). Now, I can’t talk from experience because I never used antidepressants (at least I assume they are antidepressants), but I doubt that skipping one dose turns you into an emotional wreck. But the thing is, Stolas is autistic and I can relate to this and the way he behaved. The pills were something he could rely on to stay afloat probably during his whole sad life, so running out of it first thing in the morning in the middle of an emotional Dinsey princess moment was truly bad timing. Stolas found himself stripped of this little safety blanket. During his song, he gets happy, dramatic, desperate and hopeful. He most likely spent the day in a mood swing, and let’s remember that he wakes up at 7 AM and meets Blitzø at 11:56 PM, plenty of time to panic [Side note, the breakup happens 4 minutes later so at midnight on the dot, I love these little details]. Stolas knows how he feels about Blitzø, he has known for some time, and he’s ready to tell him. If I know a little bit about how a brain on the spectrum works, he most likely had been rehearsing any possible scenarios in his head for hours (or days, or months) and that’s why when Blitzø arrives, Stolas doesn’t say anything to interrupt the other displaying of sex toys, until he decides it’s time to stop Blitzø (that it’s clearly freaking out already at that point) and opens the conversation in the worst possible way ever: “I need it [the Grimoire] back. Permanently”. It seems unnecessarily cruel to just take the book from Blitzø, letting him tear up and beg. But then Stolas pulls out the box with the crystal and we have the Stolitz music playing and… but why make Blitzø cry and not just give him the crystal straight away? Because Stolas was too stuck in his mind already. He played out this scene so many times in his head, that he couldn’t act any different without losing his cool. Don’t get this wrong: from here on I absolutely LOVE how Stolas handled the situation, how he spoke, what he did and said, from kneeling in front of Blitzø, gently holding his hand to calm him down when he was about to panic, and then he gave him the crystal while confessing his feelings for him. Stolas at this point had been in touch and honest with his feelings for months (at least since Ozzie’s from what we can see on screen), but the main problem is that Stolas has no idea of what is going on with Blitzø, so when obviously Blitzø feels cornered and doesn’t want to face his feelings so abruptly and hides behind sex and roleplaying, Stolas loses his control over the situation and closes up for good. Anything that happens between “Do you…Do you have my book Blitzø?” and “That’s enough to know what this is” is a monologue. When Blitzø doesn’t follow the idea Stolas has in his mind, Stolas just walks away. 

And this is VALID because Stolas has never been in a real relationship, he has no friends or family aside from Via, and he doesn’t know how to deal with people with complex emotions like Blitzø. It is quite common for people on the spectrum to assume that everyone else is alike, thinks alike, and responds similarly to certain patterns, so when Stolas doesn’t get the response he was expecting, he immediately reads it as rejection. He turns away from Blitzø and leaves without giving the other any chance other than yelling in anger and despair. 

On Blitzø's side things are more linear. He was and still is in constant… ignorance. Meaning he actively ignores his and Stolas’ feelings. I don’t think he is in denial, because he knows fully well he has feelings for Stolas at least since S1E6 Truth Seekers, he knows he fears intimacy and also craves it. And he most likely knows, at least in part, that Stolas has feelings for him as shown during the exchange with Fizz in Oops (that part was denial, yes). Blitzø knows this night is important and different. They haven’t seen each other for months. He was the one who decided to skip a few rounds when Stolas gave him the opportunity, and if we go with the text exchange in Western Energy, it’s safe to assume they haven’t seen each other since Seeing Stars and probably haven’t slept together since before Ozzie’s. Blitzø’s strategy to deal with his fears and feelings is to let things linger doing nothing in the hope they settle back to where they were when the deal was still new and comfortable. Because Blitzø doesn’t want to admit he has feelings for Stolas, but most of all he doesn’t want to accept that Stolas has feelings for him, because who can love him? Certainly not a prince of all people. Blitzø goes shopping to impress Stolas because he wants to keep staying in that deal, no commitment, no need to reveal his feelings, he could keep going forever, transactional sex is convenient and non-commmittal. (Inadvertently showing, while doing sex shopping, how much he cares for Stolas and how deeply he knows him and what he likes, he wants to make Stolas happy). He wants to go back to sex and show Stolas a “good time” so he doesn’t have to think about how he felt when he realised Stolas could get hurt. He doesn’t want to think about anything, but then, when Stolas takes control of the narrative, Blitzø can only be there and follow it until it gets too overwhelming. He tries so desperately to stick to the habits, to the point he has this massive slip when he tries to give back the crystal to Stolas and says he can always do better. He doesn’t want a way out. He doesn’t want to choose. He loves being in chains because it’s easy. He wants things to stay the way they are, for Stolas to use him as a sex toy, and to be used by him because admitting that he has feelings and that he sees that Stolas has feelings for him is too much. But Stolas clearly states how he feels and what he wants. Blitzø understands perfectly, but he can’t accept it, so he tries in a desperate attempt to get back to where they were, to pretend one more time. Blitzø runs away from the feelings Stolas is showing him in a way that triggers Stolas in the worst possible way. Stolas runs away from Blitzø when he can’t deal with his heartbreak anymore, triggering Blitzø’s fear that translates into an angry outburst. Stolas doesn’t stop for a second and doesn’t listen to Blitzø who is yelling at him to, basically, stop and listen to him. Blitzø says hurtful things to Stolas because he is desperate and he feels rejected and abandoned by him. After avoiding any type of confrontation for months, Blitzø finally gives in, but he’s hurt, angry and terrified so he does the only thing he’s comfortable with: he yells. He doesn’t know of Stolas’ past of being abused by his wife. Stolas just wants out, out of the feeling of being rejected (even if he obviously jumped to the wrong conclusions too fast) and away from yet another person screaming at him. Blitzø only manages to stop Stolas by yelling at him hurtful things he doesn’t fully believe. Unfortunately, Stolas listens to that. And for the first time in his life, he cries in front of someone. Blitzø finally realises how much his words hurt Stolas, but it’s too late to apologise and he finds himself teleported outside mid-apology.

Honestly, I don’t think they could have screwed up any worse than that even if they tried. But this needed to happen and I’m glad it did. Blitzø needed to see Stolas heartbroken to understand Stolas was in love with him. Stolas did the best he could for who he is, he made the first move, and now the ball is in Blitzø’s court. 

I owe Blitz an apology. When speculating on The Full Moon I assumed it was going to end badly and I blamed Blitzø for it. Now that the episode is out I can see that mostly it’s Stolas’ fault. Yes, I said it, it’s predominantly Stolas’ fault if The Full Moon ended in tragedy, but this is important: Blitzø knows Stolas treated him wrong (not only in the last episode, many many times before that) but now he also knows that Stolas can get hurt physically and emotionally, and yes, he proved himself to be a pompous rich asshole that happens to also be deeply in love with him. Is then Stolas worth fighting for? I think we all know the answer. What I hope to see in Apology Tour is the both of them apologizing to each other AND to themselves. Neither Stolas nor Blitzø know what love is. They are trying and failing but in the end, they are both desperate for one another and if Stolas can get his head out of his ass and Blitzø finally drops the act for a minute, they could just… talk and start to figure things out. And maybe in Apology Tour we will know more about what happened with Verosika and why that relationship went South so badly, I bet it’s going to play a huge part in Blitzø’s future development.

[unintentionalseductress]

prompt 22 with violinist gojo and piano accompanist reader (theyre kindof rivals,, reader hates gojo for being reckless during competition) feel free to skip if it's too complex 👉👈

Ok I love this! Thank you anon for this unique and really cute request.

--------

The smooth sound of musical notes flows through the concert hall. Famous violinist Gojo Satoru, and you, a piano prodigy who built up your reputation score by score.

To an outsider, the two of you seemed to be in harmony, perfectly in sync with each other's music. The sounds crescendo and soar, then slowly end, the quivering final pitch from the violin hanging in the air.

The crowd erupts into applause and both of you bow before exiting the stage. Once away from the public eye, you round on Satoru.

"Your pitch was off."

"What?" Gojo gives you a withering look. "No I wasn't. It was perfect."

"It needed to be louder."

"No it didn't. You need to stop slamming on the damn piano keys."

"Excuse me?" You ask scathingly. "It's not my fault you're deafer than a doornail!"

The two of you start bickering back and forth, before Satoru finally snaps and drags you into one of the dressing rooms backstage.

"Satoru what the f-" you're caught off guard as Satoru crushes your mouth with his, slipping his tongue inside, the taste of him teasing your senses.

He hoists you into the dressing table, your back pressing against the mirror, your dress being rucked up past your thighs. Not bothering to be delicate, he rips your stockings at the crotch ignoring your protests.

Your panties are hooked to the side and he rubs your wet slit, making you gasp and buck your hips, then you let out a lewd moan as he shoves two fingers into your fluttering core.

You try to suppress your noises but with a wicked grin Satoru mercilessly fingers you, curling up and pressing your on g-spot relentlessly.

"Whats the matter?" he asks, smirking depravedly. "Why are you being so quiet? Weren't you the one bitching about needing to be louder?"

His thumb finds your clit and applies firm circular pressure, and you nearly lose all self control, singing your pleasure and voice keening louder and louder until you explode from the pleasure, walls spasming on his fingers, a ring of cream forming at the base of his fingers.

He licks his fingers clean, his face smug as he looks at your fucked out expression. With your remaining brain cells you bite out , "Your fingering needs work."

"I plucked your g-string just fine." Snickering at the indignant expression on your face he waltzes out of the room.