#otherwise not much is happening today but a few days ago i went out to an event and did painting which was fun! ^^

[muckmagister]

the baby fawn bounds up to you. they haven't seen you in a while! they missed you lots. they want to know how your day has been, and they want you to know that they love you

BABY FAWN!!!! baby fawn i am on my hands and knees feeding you nutritious leaves and such and giving you the gentlest of head pats

i love you too baby fawn, your presence means my day is fantastic now and nothing can change this

[lovverletters]

👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[vonlycaonwife]

May I please have a smexy von lycoan x maid!reader, (fem please) where the new maid is a clutz and gets on Von's nerves on accident. and then one day he loses his composure and decides to 'punish' her and maybe teach her a lesson about proper serving etiquette. please scenario, i would like to hear your thoughts. ;)

I know who you are you sonuva- ANYWAY yeah I can do that.....lord help me

Female reader! Also very ooc!

Warnings: Smut, breeding, face fucking, knotting, dubious consent, unbalanced power dynamics (boss/worker like), severely ooc, partially written before game release

He has just about had it.

A few months ago the agency had just hired a new employee, one that Lycaon had to supervise. She seemed very sweet and excited to do her job, something he enjoyed seeing since those at Victoria Housekeeping Co. must have a good head on their shoulders to do their job.

But then it turned out she was even more of a clutz than Corin, something that's baffled almost everyone.

An often occurrence would be her cleaning something to perfection, only to end up breaking said thing. Another would be her always burning whatever it was she was baking, or adding too much of something. Even during hollow raids she and others end up getting hurt by her own weapon rather than by ethereal. Mainly the only thing she can do is serve tea and even that's a fifty-fifty on if she'll drop the cup in your lap or not. It was astounding how many things went wrong when she was near, though she was always apologetic over every mess up.

And today Lycaon had to scold her once again over the continuous trip ups, though he has not done that yet since the woman was late for their meeting again. 

It was bad enough for him that he had to deal with his own body that was determined to start a rut, but combine that with the fact that the woman that irritated him to no end also had a scent that drove him mad. He usually had better control over himself, but every time something happened that involved her he would have to steel his nerves or otherwise he would go into a full rut. It annoyed him to no end. Though he supposed it was why he was harsher on her than he was on anyone else, as much as he hated to admit. Others had brought it up to him about his behavior, but he would rather be harsher than act like a feral dog. 

"You're late." He huffed once he heard the door open, he turned his eyes to meet the doe like ones of the woman. He held back a growl as her scent entered his nose, quickly placing his hands onto the desk to keep himself from tearing into his uniform. She flinched at his tone, brows pinched in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to run here to be on time and...I bumped into someone and caused another mess. I cleaned it up though! So it's no worries!" She reassured, waving her hands around in an attempt to placate his wrath. She tried to smile even when the atmosphere began to grow cold, something that irritated the man even more.

"Another one? How many has that been today?" He asked angrily, his claws just barely scratching into the wood of his desk. Her scent was driving him mad, he had to keep his mind off of it by directing his growing frustrations onto her. 

The woman flinched again, fear rising within her. While she was used to being scolded, this kind of anger aimed towards her was new and frightening. At most the wolf was only ever annoyed or frustrated, but now she felt like she was about to be eaten alive.

"It seems you need another lesson." He said, suddenly calm. At least what she thought was calm, but at meeting his eyes once again all she could see was unbridled anger. Along with something else she couldn't discern. As he stood she froze in place, her hands gripping onto her skirt tightly her knuckles almost turned white. The two kept eye contact as the large man walked his way around his desk, ignoring the claw marks, before standing directly in front of the woman. "We've had this conversation so many times, but it seems you're not getting it.”

"I-I'm sorry Sir! I'll do better, I promise!” She begged, straining her neck to look up at him. While she wasn't that short, she always had a hard time not cramping her neck whenever she had to look at Lycaon. She shivered under his gaze, steeling her nerves so she wouldn't step back in fear. While she is able to handle most things, right now it almost felt like she was prey staring into the face of a predator. “Really I will.”

“You say that…” He started, before suddenly growling with a ferocity that terrified her. She suddenly backed up, her mind running over what options she had, before her back ran into the door behind her. She quickly turned around, her flight instincts blaring danger in her head, attempting to open the door before she felt hands slam onto the surface beside her. Frozen in place she could only be aware of her thoughts screaming at her to run, before it all stopped when she felt his breath hit her neck. “And yet you never seem to improve.”

Lycaon can only berate himself as his own body had seemed to be taken over by his instincts. Just the sight of her looking up at him with her wide eyes had made him mad, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be closer to her. Her scent was overriding his sense of smell, the feel of her shaking in fear under him was embarrassingly delicious. He didn't think of himself to be cruel, and yet he relished in her fear. His hands were shaking against the door, claws scratching at the surface while he barely tried to reign in himself.

“Do you even know how much you irritate me? How annoying it is to have to have these talks with you every damn week?” He growled out, his nose brushing against her hair as he spoke. His claws dug deeper into the wooden surface as he tried to keep himself from touching her with them. He knew if he did that he couldn't go back, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together like he barely is at this moment. His sharp ears heard her gasp as the sound of wood splitting rang out. “Do you even know how hard it is to keep myself contained with that smell of yours?”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He brushed his teeth against the skin of her neck, groaning as he heard her whimper in fear. But what also caught his attention was that her scent somehow became even more potent, making him realize something. He slowly released his hands from the wooden surface, giving them a quick glance for any potential splinters, before dropping to his knees. His hands lifted up her skirt, releasing an enormous wave of her scent. He quickly moved his face closer to her, his nose brushing against her core.

“S-Sir!” She yelped, her hands moving to try and move him away before he could realize. But she stopped when he heard him growl, ordering her to stay in place. Understanding he figured out how she was suddenly turned on by the sudden turn of events, she obeyed his order. She stared at the patterns of the wood, trying to keep her mind off the fact that her superior was suddenly sniffing her like a horny animal. Not that she minded too much, as she had developed a small crush on him since gaining her job at the company. 

“Lesson one, speak when spoken to.” He said, his hands gently caressing her thighs as he nudged them to spread apart.

“B-But-”

“Quiet.” He ordered, before pressing his nose against her once more. He could feel his entire body shiver as the woman's scent flooded his senses. His ears could pick up the noises she tried to repress, causing him to huff in amusement. He used one hand to move the thin fabric that separated him from her bare skin aside, making it possible to place his long tongue along her folds.

“Ah! S-Sir wait-”

“I said, be quiet.” He grunted, adding a growl to emphasize his order. He felt her freeze from his tone as he swiped his tongue over her once more. The taste that spread on his tongue was like heaven to him, completely making him forget the world around him as he pushed his face deeper to taste more.

As his tongue entered her, her hands quickly flew to cover her mouth to prevent any noises from escaping. Her forehead leaned against the door as she tried to even out her breathing, her legs began to shake as she felt his tongue reach deeper. She could feel his hands gripping tighten as a way to keep her still, his claws digging into her skin in a way that brought no pain to her. 

Soon she began to feel that familiar coil within her tighten, causing her to grip onto her face harden. She could feel his tongue quicken its pace as her walls constricted, her whole body shook as she felt that coil ready to burst. Only to be met with a sudden emptiness causing her to quickly turn her head around to see him stand up. She wanted to ask why he stopped, before she suddenly was lifted into the air. Squealing at the movement, she wiggled in his grip before she found herself placed onto one of the plush chairs. After blinking a bit to understand what had happened, she looked up to see his piercing red eye staring down back at her.

“Lesson two, all employees must fulfill their tasks with perfect proficiency.” Lycaon barely spoke, adjusting his belt before pushing down his slacks to reveal his hardening member. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his size, her thighs squeezing together in both mild fear and anticipation. Wordlessly she adjusted herself in the seat and hesitantly wrapped one hand around him, slowly moving it along the shaft. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, but a gentle began to pet her head, making her meet his eyes once more. “Just relax.”

His voice was very gentle, putting her in a shock before she could realize he removed her hand and pressed the head of his cock against her slightly parted lips. She almost jumped at the contact before that hand gripped her hair to keep her in place. The low growl he released was the only warning he would give her. Shivering she widened her opened mouth and slowly gave small licks, earning a hum in approval. Soon she leaned forward, bringing the head into her mouth and sucking. Her hands were gripping onto the skirt of her uniform, knuckles turning white as she tried her best to keep her mouth wide enough to accommodate his size. 

Quickly the thirian took charge and began to move his hips slowly, pushing his length further and further down her throat. As time went on his pace became rougher and faster, causing tears to start welling in her eyes. But she made no complaint, only kept her eyes shut as she focused on breathing through her nose. Embarrassingly she could feel the spot on the cushion seat below her become damp, making her whine against him. Though she could barely hear herself over the growls the man was releasing. Soon she could feel him pulsate against her tongue, but before he could cum, he released himself from her mouth. 

Before she could question anything, she suddenly felt him grab her by the waist and all but slam her onto the desk. But nothing happened, he only stared into her eyes. It’s as if he was hesitant to do anything else, his claws gripping onto with the same intensity as earlier. The two stayed in their fixed position before one finally spoke.

“Do you want this?” The words barely came out of the thirian, more so only able to leave past his lips with his pants.

“W-What?”

“I’m asking if you truly want this, because if this goes further then we can’t go back.” He slowly explains, like he was in a daze.

“Oh…” She blinks, her muddled brain struggling to fully comprehend what he was saying. But once it settled itself within her thoughts did all the muddiness completely disappear. “O-Oh! Y-Yeah I am! I’ve uh…”

Her face flushes as she attempts to get her thoughts in order. “I’ve already…had some feelings for you so…if you don’t-eep!”

His lips slam onto hers, interrupting her words. She lets out a surprised squeal, tensing in his grip, before relaxing and wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned as his tongue explored her mouth, swallowing her noises as he reached one hand to rub circles around her clit. Soon she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, causing her to tense once more.

“Relax.” She could barely hear him say as he slowly thrust himself inside. Her insides almost felt like they were on fire from the sheer intense heat of his length. When he finally completely filled her, tears were running down her face as she tried not to move and adjust. Lycaon trailed soft kisses all over her face as he waited for her to give the go ahead. Soon she began to relax, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Reading her body languages, Lycaon began to move his hips at a slow pace. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on not losing control, the way he could only smell her scent and the fact it was all over him made him almost go insane. The one hand still holding onto the desk tightened around the wood, close to splinting it like what he did with the wall earlier. He had moved his other hand to her clothed waist, keeping her in place as soon began to speed up. Her whines rang out of the room, adding fuel to the fire of his loosening restraint.

As he focused on controlling his instincts, he somehow didn’t notice her fingers settling into the fur at the back of his neck. She gave it a quick pull, not too harsh to pull out any fur, making him groan in pain. He opened his eyes to meet her own, glaring down at her intensely. He leaned down, growling out harsh words of disapproval. But the lustful gleam he saw in her eyes and her whiny begging was what finally drove him to let go. Slamming his hips against hers with wild abandonment, his teeth gently biting at the exposed skin of her neck while his hands grabbed onto her legs to move them on top of his shoulders. 

He was taking it all in, the sound of her moans and high pitch screams, the taste of her sweat and tears on his tongue, and the smell of their scents mingling together along with the growing smell of sex. He even could hear his own groans and growls, though his focus moved quickly to the feeling of his swelling knot enlarging. His instincts were urging him to push it in right this instant, but he had some restraint left to wait. 

Meanwhile she was overwhelmed by his rough pace, tears flowing down her face as she was slammed with wave after wave of pleasure. She could barely think, her mind only focused on the feeling of him filling her to the brim. But soon she could feel that familiar coil within her, tightening at such an alarming rate. Her voice began to break as it reached a higher pitch than her vocal cords were able to handle, her hands clutching onto his fur in search of anything to stabilize herself. She tried to let any words out, but was once more interrupted by him kissing her. She could only moan into his mouth as she felt something bigger push into her. Her eyes widened in shock as his knot was thrusted in, her body tensing and squirming as the rush of pleasure flooded her veins once more. Released from the kiss, she could only whine as her insides were filled with his hot seed.

“Wait.” He said, gently keeping her in place as she squirmed. “Give it a few minutes.”

She nodded in response, having no energy for words. He chuckled at that, amused at her state. Once he was able to remove himself, he shushed her as she whined from the loss. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, as her body finally relaxed after everything. She barely felt him move her to sit back in the chair she had stained, hearing him whisper about returning with cleaning rags and other necessary items. She wasn't able to respond before sleep finally overtook her.

She wasn't able to see the soft he gave her, nor did she even realize he had kissed her forehead. He quickly made himself suitable again before quietly leaving through the door, locking it to make sure no one would walk in on the mess he had to clean up. Though he's sure he would walk into an even bigger mess once the woman wakes up and tries to clean. But he isn't too upset about that fact now.

Since it just means he has an opportunity to teach her another “lesson.”

[to-thelakes]

fuckin' calculus (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); brief reference to weird teacher-student relationships (SUPER BRIEF), typical shameless themes (smoking, gratuitous swearing), that's it! (this is just 1.7k words of gratuitous fluff/comfort for lip)

summary; monica coming back really fucked lip up but he only lets himself cry when he's alone with you in your bedroom.

series masterlist

in celebration of my beloved jeremy allen white's win, here is a lil lip gallagher one-shot

You knew something was wrong from when he stepped into the hallway. Lip had this sober look on his face and it was the tell-tale sign he was hiding something. His mom had come back so that had to be part of it but you didn’t say anything. 

Instead, you walked with him to his locker where he grabbed the shit he needed for class. It was quiet for a moment, you stood beside him while he stuck his head in his locker, rummaging through the crap that had piled up. You were watching him, talking about something aimless.

“You know I really think Miss Davis wants to fuck Eddy. I mean, I don’t get it and I mean, come on, he’s like 15 and she’s fucking 40 but fuck, not the weirdest shit that’s happened. You know-” Your rambling was cut off by Lip’s hand slamming into the side of his locker. 

The noise reverberated around the hallways, eyes drawing your way and you went silent. Lip had always been so calm and collected around you. It scared you - only briefly -, your eyes widened as you took in his frustrated expression.

His eyes were lined with tears, mouth set into a frown, his fingers curled up into a tight fist.

“Fucking’ Calculus,” He ground out under his breathe. You frowned but it was like you weren’t even there. 

“Use mine. I’ve not got Calc today,” You responded with a tentative smile. For a minute, you were convinced he had forgotten you were even there.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” He was quick to apologise. Though he only ever apologised when it wasn’t necessary, when it didn’t mean anything. Otherwise, he found it hard to spit the words out. 

“Nothing important,” You said as you pulled your backpack over to your front, pulling out your Calc textbook. You had only brought it in because you had it 4th period but he didn’t need to know that. 

“You sure it’s okay?” He asked, taking the textbook tentatively from your grip. You nodded.

“Course,” You reassured him. You then leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly. You glanced at the clock, it was getting dangerously close to class time. You knew that you could get to class with enough time even after the bell rang for first period but you loved to be early. Lip knew that, “Gotta run to World History but got a free house until late if you wanna come over,” You asked. Lip nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds fun.” He sounded distant and you weren’t entirely sure he was listening but you let it go. You squeezed his bicep with your free hand and then disappeared down the hallway to class. ***

The walk back to yours had been quiet. Lip hadn’t said much all day. From the moment you got out of school to the moment you reached your front door, it was like he was somewhere else. It was a classic Lip Gallagher shutdown. It had happened a few weeks ago when Frank had tried to go sober. You couldn’t blame him.

“Bedroom?” You asked softly as you both kicked off your shoes and he stubbed a cigarette out on the porch, “Or I can heat us up some leftovers?” You added. Lip shrugged and you knew what that meant. So, you walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up a little before shedding your layers. Braving the Chicago cold was not for the weak.

Lip shed his coat and scarf, placing them on the hook before you grabbed his hand and coaxed him upstairs.

“Need to piss,” He muttered. You nodded and let him go before heading into your room. You picked up a few pyjamas and clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Your room wasn’t a mess but you couldn’t help but want everything to be neater for Lip. He lived in such chaos, you didn’t want to feed into it even if you were used to that same chaos too. You wanted to be his oasis.

You fished one of his hoodies you’d stolen from the closet and draped it over the back of your desk chair before you stripped off and changed into shorts and an oversized shirt. 

“Left a hoodie out for you, gonna lie in bed,” You called into the hallway just loud enough that he could hear in the bathroom. You didn’t get a response but you knew he heard you. You were quick to go back to room and crank the radiator on before sliding under the covers. The best thing about an empty house was the peace and quiet.

All you could hear was the muffled sounds of Lip washing his hands, wiping them and then coming out of the bathroom. 

His figure appeared in the doorway and he looked somehow more downtrodden than he had all day. He didn’t say anything as he changed into just boxer shorts and the hoodie. He rifled through his bag for a moment before pulling out the calculus textbook you lent him and placed it on the desk.

“You had Calculus 4th period,” He stated. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh?”

“You needed the textbook.”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. Just looked over Maggie’s shoulder. She gets it better than I do,” You waved off his words with a small smile. He frowned and you tilted your head, “Come ‘ere,” You requested. Your voice was soft and quiet. He didn’t need to be asked again and when you pulled the edge of the covers up, he crawled into bed.

But rather than lying beside you, he lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest, your tits acting as a cushion. Your fingers slipped up into his hair while the other wrapped the duvet around the both of you.

“Why’d do you lie about Calculus?” He asked, voice muffled into your skin. You gently scritched his scalp.

“People do dumb things for the people they like,” You admitted softly. He buried his face further into your chest. You tilted your head forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Can’t help myself when it comes to you. You make me silly.” He rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. His cheek resting against you. One of his hands moved and began to draw patterns across arms. 

“Don’t get why she can just walk in and pretend none of it fucking mattered,” He said after a moment, “It’s bullshit. She fucks off and leaves us with dad and comes back and expects us to accept her with open arms. She didn’t fucking raise me. She didn’t care. Never sent me a fucking birthday card. None of that shit. Now, she’s trying to take fucking Liam? Who the fuck does that? Some fucking bullshit,” He ranted. It was less angry and more sad. You had known Lip since before Monica fucked off which meant that you knew the anger about her leaving had long turned into quiet contemplation and exhaustion. You knew that the constant questions plagued him and you knew that even though he had managed to let you in, he lived in fear that you’d fuck off too.

Not that you ever would.

It would take the strength of the Gods to separate you from Lip. You didn’t care what anyone said to you. 

“Want me to tell her to go fuck herself?” You asked, half-joking. He let out an amused huff before he shook his head.

“Nah, no point. She’ll do that herself,” He muttered. His eyes had gotten glassy and you continued to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He hated crying. Lip hated crying but he found it harder not to when he was with you.

“I got you, baby,” You whispered softly when you heard the first telltale sniffle of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling into you. It was a subconscious attempt to hide himself away but you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings as the tears continued to fall.

Lip didn’t say anything, there was nothing else he felt like he could say. So, instead, he cried in your arms as you gently shushed him and promised him that you’re right there with him and urged him to let it out. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed curled up together but by the end of it, Lip had fallen asleep against your chest. His breathing had evened out and the lull of your heartbeat had pulled him into the dream world.

And he stayed like that for hours. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to read and so you balanced your book and stayed with him.

At some point your parents came home and when they passed your bedroom door, they simply smiled.

“Everything okay?” Your dad had mouthed to you. You had simply nodded.

“Gallagher shit,” was all you had mouth back. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up. He mimed dinner and you nodded. Then he pointed at Lip and you nodded again. If you were gonna wake Lip up it would be with good food.

“Thank you,” You mouthed and your dad simply nodded and headed downstairs to talk with your mum. It was peaceful and you were glad Lip trusted you enough to allow himself to feel at least a semblance of that peace too.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead while he continued to sleep.

“I love you,” You whispered to him. You’d never dare say it when he was awake but you could tell him now. You were brave enough to say it now while he was completely unaware and content.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer.  "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks.  The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world. 

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[undying-love]

Paul being very secure about his sexuality: A compilation

"The reason why we didn’t do Up Against It wasn’t because it was too far out or anything. We didn’t do it because it was gay. We weren’t gay and really that was all there was to it. It was quite simple, really. Brian was gay…and so he and the gay crowd could appreciate it. Now, it wasn’t that we were anti-gay – just that we, The Beatles, weren’t gay."

“It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, ‘Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.’ I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes. I think we all gave that impression."

Q:  You must be very secure with yourself.

Paul: I think it is that. I'm OK with gay people, too, because I'm essentially comfortable with my sexuality. I can goof around with gay people. I sort of know who I am by now.  And it's about time.

"I imagine he heard it [Dear Friend]. I think he listened to my records, but he never responded directly. That wasn't his way. We were guys; it wasn't like a boy and a girl. In those days you didn't release much emotion with each other."

"One thing he told us was that one in every four men is homosexual. So we looked at the group! One in every four! It literally meant one of us is gay. Oh, fucking hell, it’s not me, is it? We had a lot of soul-searching to do over that little one."

"There's a song I do called Here Today which is specifically written for John. That sometimes catches me out. I realise I'm telling this man that I love him and it's like I'm publicly declaring this in front of all these people I don't know. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing.

Q: In “Here Today”, you talk about your love for John. Did you ever say that to him, in those days?" Paul: No. I'm sure we both felt it. But that is not something two boys use to say to each other. If they were gay, maybe. Otherwise it is rare that that happens."

"My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don't call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?' I like that you don't have control over it. But there is some control -- it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in."

"We were in New York before he [George] went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. "

"Yeah, I think he [John] did [love me], yeah. It wasn’t actually a spiky relationship at all. It was, uh, very warm, very close and very loving, I think. All The Beatles. We used to say, I think we were amongst the first sort of men to come out openly – and you remember, it was quite sort of strange in those days, we’re talking about a long time ago now when homosexuality was still sort of largely illegal."

"Because he [Robert Faser] was gay, it raised a few small-minded eyebrows, and funnily enough, one or two of them were from within the Beatles: ‘Hey, man, he’s gay, what you going off to Paris with him for? They’re gonna talk, you know. Tongues are going to wag.’ I said, ‘I know tongues are going to wag, but tough shit.’ I was secure about my sexuality. I always felt this is is fine. I can hang with whoever I want and it didn’t worry me. I mean, we didn’t share a room or anything."

"With Robert’s thing of course there would be gayness. But there was no open gayness. If there was to be gayness it would be a quiet phone call that Robert would go and take in the bedroom or something. That was one of the good things, actually, because I knew he was gay and he knew I wasn’t gay so we were quite safe in our own | sexuality. We could talk to each other. "

Lastly, there is this odd anecdote that may or may not mean anything, but here it is:

One of the strangest of these incidents came at the end of 1992 when Mark Featherstone-Witty attended the MPL Christmas lunch. Mark took an accountant friend to the meal, a McCartney fan he'd known for years, which led to a strange and unpleasant row. By Mark's recollection, Paul's manager Richard Ogden summoned him into the MPL office the next day where he read him the riot act for bringing an unwelcome guest to Paul's party. 'What do you mean by bringing someone who was so obviously gay to Paul's Christmas party? Have you any idea about the responsibility you carry in this project?' he allegedly asked. 'What are you talking about?' replied Featherstone-Witty, explaining who his friend was. 'But he was gay, you stupid fucker!' 'No, he isn't.' 'You've got to be careful. You can't do anything that would embarrass Paul...'"

Fab : An intimate Life of Paul McCartney by Howard Sounes

[heavyhitterheaux]

Bows and Barrettes

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: we love domestic daddy Jackman

Synopsis: Jack feels confident enough to do his daughter's hair by himself without any guidance from you and it ends up turning out better than he expected

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

Requested by: 1/3 of hot chips and bad decisions @nattinatalia 😜💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You let out a frustrated sigh as you thought about all of the things that you had to do today and felt as if there wasn't any way possible to get them all finished.

But you literally had no choice for all of them to get done, otherwise you would be working even later tomorrow.

There were a few performances and appearances that you had coming up and it was pertinent that you started planning everything out as soon as possible.

Since the triplets were only two, you did these appearances and performances in waves at a time such as every few months so that once they were done and over with, your primary focus could still be on them.

Jack was starting to get back on his grind after him staying home the first year with you and the triplets. He was hesitant at first not wanting to leave you with all three at one time, but you saw how much he missed it so you encouraged him to do so after his self-titled album Jackman was released.

You were sliding on your pink and gray 550's when you heard Jack’s footsteps come into the room and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Baby?” Jack said once he noticed the look on your face which immediately made him concerned. 

“Hmm?” You answered while staring off into space.

“What's going on? Something's wrong and I can tell so don't tell me nothing is.”

“I have so much to do today and don't see how I'm going to make it happen.” You quietly said while standing up and Jack immediately brought you into a hug while soothingly rubbing small circles on your back.

“Anything I can do to help to make it easier? I told you that you don’t have to be superwoman all of the time.”

“Actually there is now that I think about it and I’m trying to do that less and less.”

“Name it and it'll be done.”

“Can you do Ivy and Autumn's hair for me? I was supposed to do it last night but I was too tired. They look like we don’t take care of them.”

“That's all? Of course I can. And they’re kids and only two at that. We can’t expect for their hair to stay in it’s rightful place even if you did it only four days ago. I've practiced on you enough since I distinctly remember when we were 20, you said I need to learn how to do hair if we have girls.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” You asked while looking up at him and he simply nodded.

“Of course I'm sure, baby girl. I got this. Don't worry about anything.”

“As weird as it seems, start with Autumn because Ivy had a fit last time when she had to go first.”

Jack simply laughed to himself before responding to you.

“I remember. She went and ran to hide under our bed.”

“And only came out when you bribed her with a cookie. Typical Ivy.”

“Go ahead and leave so you won't be late.” You reached up to kiss him when you suddenly felt little arms wrap around your legs and looked down to see Ivy looking up at you while her pacifier was in her mouth and reached down to pick her up.

“And look who it is. Hi my sweet baby.”

She took out her pacifier so she could kiss your cheek and promptly put it back.

“Be good for daddy, okay. I'll be back later.”

She simply nodded before you handed her to Jack and went to hug Axel and Autumn.

“Ivy, daddy has to do your hair today and it's going to look really pretty when I finish.”

Her eyes went wide and she tried to get him to put her down as she began to squirm and he simply laughed.

“I’ll give you a cookie if you sit still for me, but you can't tell mommy.” He whispered to her and he immediately saw her nod her head and hold out her hand for it.

“Not yet, baby. Wait until mommy leaves and then I’ll get it.”

Doing Autumn's hair was never a big huge task so when he started to wash her hair, he handed her the iPad so she could be distracted and watch cartoons.

Ivy was a different story.

Axel was playing with Ivy on the floor next to Jack and Autumn so that he could keep an eye on all of them.

When he had finished washing it, Jack had wrapped Autumn's hair in a towel and helped her to sit up before taking all three of them to the living room.

He made her comfy before starting to blow dry and detangle it as she was still playing on her iPad.

He pulled up the gallery on his phone and asked her to choose which hairstyle she wanted since he had saved several pictures wanting to try them out on his girls.

“Princess, do you know which one you want?” He asked as he flipped through the pictures to show her and she lit up once she made her decision.

“This one, daddy.”

She decided on the third picture out of six which had two braids in the front, and two ponytails on the side that had purple butterfly clips decorating them. 

Just like her dad, her favorite color was purple.

The hairstyle wouldn't take him too long and then he would be able to start on Ivy's with giving her a cookie first of course. 

Autumn was able to stay still as Jack braided her hair and added little jewels to it similar to the picture that he showed her.

After adding more products to her hair to keep it moisturized, he put the rest of her hair into two ponytails and added the butterfly clips for the finishing touch. 

“All done, princess. Do you want to see it?”

She eagerly nodded as she had climbed into his lap as Jack pulled up his camera on his phone to show her.

Once she got a good look at her hair, she couldn’t stop smiling and dancing in the camera while making Jack laugh at the different poses that she was doing.

“I look pretty, daddy.” 

“You sure do.” Jack responded while kissing her cheek and setting her down on the floor to play with Axel as he scooped up Ivy into his arms knowing that she was going to put up a fight. 

She immediately started whimpering and squirming, but all Jack did was slide a cookie in her hand and she instantly went silent as she began to eat it.

By the time you got back home, it was around 4 in the afternoon and as soon as you stepped foot in the door, you were greeted once again by Ivy.

You took in the appearance of her hair and was impressed how Jack had done it all by himself without your help and the fact that she had any hair left was a good sign.

“Ooohh Ivy, look at your hair! Maybe daddy should open a salon huh?” You asked her as you picked her up. 

“Catch me at New York fashion week next year. I’m doing wigs and weaves next.” You heard Jack say as he was holding Autumn who was excited to show you her hair.

“And look at Autumn! Aww, my babies look so pretty. Good job, daddy!” You said as you reached up to kiss Jack. 

“At this rate if they want me to keep this up, I need to start charging.”

“I… Jackman! You aren’t not charging our kids for you to do their hair!”

“Why not?! They can pay a small service fee!”

“Lord, help me. I swear I cannot deal with you.”

“I can do yours next if you want. But um… I got the ultimate experience package for you.”  Jack said while eyeing you up and down and licking his lips.

“I’m going to act like I didn’t hear that.”

“You’ll fold by tonight. But uh we’ll take care of that first before I do your hair. Don’t want to sweat those curls out.” He said while leaning down to whisper in your ear making you earn a smirk on your face.

“But sweating it out is the fun part.” You whispered back as you leaned up to kiss him.

“Just wait until I put them to sleep.”

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[wooahaes]

as much as you’ve waited, i’ll hug you with my whole body

pairing: non-idol!lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff. very very slight angst i think? not a ton though.

word count: 1.2k~

warnings: sappy lino. predictable as hell, but thats okay. reader is a cat mom.

daisy’s notes: oh this wasnt supposed to be longer than all the others... whoops. guess i love cat butler too much-

The apartment felt emptier than normal without Minho, especially on your birthday.

Sure, you weren’t a complete shut-in for the day. That morning, you had dressed up all nice and pretty and gone out with a couple of your girl friends for a bit to distract you from the lonely feeling that’d been eating at you for the past several days. Your boyfriend had gone abroad for a few days for a work venture alongside his boss and a few of his other coworkers, and it just so happened he wouldn’t be getting back until tomorrow morning. He’d called you every night just to catch up (save for that first night--his coworker, Felix, had sent you a picture of him passed out in bed with a tiny apology that you wouldn’t hear from him until the next day), to check in on you (and your three furry children). He’d called you last night, too, just to wish you a happy birthday once the clock flipped over to midnight. He said that they’d be done with work sometime today, but that their flight wasn’t until late. Otherwise he’d be right there with you, curled up close and holding you tight.

So you sent him pictures of the kids (and one of yourself, at his request) in their cat tree, or playing with toys, or doing anything you deemed picture-worthy... which, to be fair, was most things. Sometimes you swore your boyfriend rubbed off on you with how many pictures in your camera roll consisted of the cats. Doongie had laid across your shoes the day after Minho left, fussing at you to not leave him, and you’d sent the video to him of you gently trying to tell him to let you leave. That his dad would be back, soon... and that you missed him, too. 

At least you had the cats to keep you company. And sometimes Chris, who came by at one point to check on you (prompted by Minho, no doubt) and share a meal with you so you didn’t always have to eat alone... and Jisung, who swung by (also prompted by Minho, you knew for sure) to invite you out for a walk. He had turned red when you called him out on it, and he had insisted further that he only invited you out because he, too, wanted to go for a walk... even if Minho did tell him to check on you. It’d been nice to get out of the apartment, and the two of you ended up getting ramen together at a place you ended up finding.

But now you were waiting on your takeout, thinking about the cupcake that sat before you on the coffee table. You’d managed to keep the cats away from it (although they’d stopped showing interest a while ago once they got a whiff of it and realized it wasn’t appetizing enough for them), and now you were holding back. Dinner first, then you could light the candle and celebrate something by yourself... Or with the cats, if you could round them up to sit with you.

The buzzer rang out, and you hopped up to make your way over. Doongie had began to fuss, and you had stopped long enough to quiet him down.

“Just a little longer,” you said, reaching out to scratch him behind his ears as he peered up at you. “And then your dad will be home.”

He merely fussed at you again before taking off, continuing to yell at the door. Despite your scolding, you went to unlock the door with an apology on your lips for all the fuss if the delivery guy still happened to be there.

Only for Minho to be standing there, jacket draped over his arm and suitcase sat beside him. “Happy birthday,” he said. “I made it.”

All at once, you felt overwhelmed at the sight of him standing there, as cliche as it all felt. You covered your mouth, fighting back the urge to cry and losing almost instantly. He had said he couldn’t catch an earlier flight, that he had looked into it and there was nothing. With a sniffle, you stepped forward and into his arms, wrapping your own around him tight.

“We finished up early,” he told you, arms curving around you and holding you tight. “So I thought I would surprise you.”

Most days, you knew Minho as someone who was... a little quiet, even after how long you’d been dating. Silly, too: he always knew how to make you laugh. And sometimes, in moments like these, he knew how to make your heart feel like it was squeezed so tight that it burst. The softer, more forthcoming Minho who was honest with you because he knew both of you valued that. That while he did, technically, deceive you and make you think he wouldn’t be here... It was just so he could surprise you like this.

“How did--” You pulled your face back from his shoulder, “How’d you get here?”

A pause.

“Chris.” The two of you said at the same time. Of course it’d be Chris who picked him up this late and brought him home to you. You knew the others would do it, too, if he asked, but Chris wouldn’t hesitate. You’d have to thank him later.

Minho pulled away from you long enough to pick up his bag and usher you back inside. You listened to him address Doongie, who was very vocally giving him a piece of his mind for leaving him for so long, and went to find the other two. Soonie had been curled up on his side of the bed (that was where he spent most of his time, while Dori was in his zoomies mode, zipping from room to room as though he were being chased. 

The door sounded again as he was heading to put his bag away to unpack later, and you made a comment about it being your food this time. When you came back to find Minho, he was petting Soonie, speaking to him in a quiet voice.

“Did you watch after her like I asked?” He scratched behind the cat’s ears. “You have to keep her company whenever I’m gone. She’s your mom, too.”

Something about how earnest he seemed when speaking to the cats like this (not the first time, and it’d never be the last) made you tear up again. Had he bought an entirely new ticket just to come home early to see you? He looked up, and could see the look on your face.

“Ah, honey...” He made his way over, already opening his arms back to you as you sought refuge in them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry...”

“It’s okay,” you said, hugging him tight. “I’m crying because I’m happy, silly.”

“I know, but...” He shut his eyes, holding you tight. “Is there anything we can do to celebrate your birthday before its over? I slept on the plane. I can stay up longer.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to hold me a little longer first. Is that okay?”

With a blissful sigh, he held you tighter. “Always,” he said softer, gently stroking your back. “I love you. I’m glad I made it in time.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao​

[lemon-world1]

You're everything I never knew I needed. │Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

I’m fully aware of the inconsistency in my writing/posting. I’m even more aware that there are many similar fics, but... It’s never enough. I just had to. I’m a sucker for our boy Frankie taking care of his girl. Hope you’ll enjoy it! 

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, period pain

summary: Your period came unexpectedly just as Frank comes to see you after being away from NYC. It's pure fluff.

Not everyone can say they're friends with the most badass vigilante in New York City. You and Frank have forged an unbreakable bond over countless nights spent stitching up his bullet-ridden body. He'd crawl to your balcony like a wounded animal seeking shelter, and you'd nurse him back to health. 

Your friendship was simple, you took care of him, and he took care of you. He'd fix things around your apartment, like the water heater that blew up or carry your groceries to your apartment. But it wasn't just his actions that spoke volumes. You could see something in his eyes when he looked at you - a hidden feeling.  

Sometimes, Frank's PTSD would get the best of him, and he'd lash out at you. But you knew it wasn't his fault. You stood by him, no matter what because you knew what he went through. You were always there for him, no matter the cost. 

You never told Frank how you felt about him, but you didn't need to. He knew, just like he knew, how much you meant to him.

 ...

It's been a while since you last saw Frank. He had told you he would be out of town for a bit, which left you stuck in your apartment with nothing but your thoughts and the TV. You'd become accustomed to being on call in case he needed you, causing you to lose touch with most of your so-called "friends." But you never gave a damn about them. Frank was the only one who mattered in the big apple.

You had expected tonight to be just another dull evening spent munching on chips and binge-watching another crime docu-series on Netflix. You had passed out in bed, cuddled under the blanket you used to cover Frank with after a long stitching-up session.

But at two a.m., you jolted awake to a familiar pain stabbing your gut. You didn't bother tracking your period calendar because you hadn't been with anyone for so long that you stopped caring about when it would come.

Shit. You cursed as you realized your bed was stained with blood.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck. This can't be happening. Today was the day you had to pitch your new designs to your most critical client, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with the aftermath of a messy period. You had no time to wash your sheets, deal with the cramps, or even shower at this godforsaken hour.

You needed relief fast, but when you reached for your painkillers, you remembered giving them all to Frank when you stitched him up a few weeks ago. You searched through your first aid kit for anything to alleviate the pain, but in haste, you knocked the whole thing over, spilling everything onto the tiles.

Arrghhh. You were furious at this point, knowing the nightmare was just about to begin. Over the years, you had become used to being dependent on painkillers; otherwise, your period would kill you. Your ob-gyn had tried everything to ease the agony, but nothing worked, and contraception was out of the question. You always kept your prescription pills close by for emergencies, but not this time.

Forty-three minutes had passed, and you were already showered and dressed in fresh pyjamas. The sheets were washing, and a hot cup of chamomile tea sat on your nightstand. But the pain was creeping in, gnawing at you with every passing moment. All you wanted to do was wrap yourself in a fluffy blanket and forget about the world. You tossed and turned on the bed, but the pain persisted. At the realization that you probably wouldn't be fit to get up at 5 and get to work at all, you started panicking. How were you going to cancel the pitch? 

My boss is going to fucking kill me.

Well, she might if your period doesn't kill you first. After another 20 minutes, your silent sobs turned into horrific cries from pain. And just when you thought things couldn't get worse, the familiar knock came. 

Knock. Knock. You looked up and saw a hulking figure peeking through the curtains on your balcony. It was him. 

You got up slowly, your feet planted on the ground as you made your way to the balcony door. 

Frank knew something was wrong the moment he saw you. He could see the pain etched all over your face. Your puffy red eyes, thick, comforting blanket hugging your shoulders, and forearm holding your belly as if it offered support told him everything.

"Hey, baby girl," he said, his voice breaking as he saw you in such agony. "Is everything alright?"

You said nothing, still gazing at him, unable to process that he was really standing in front of you. His hand reached out, gently wiping away a tear from your cheek.

"Hi Frankie, uh... is something wrong? Are you hurt?" He couldn't believe your words. You were in obvious pain and still asked if he was okay. Another piece of his shattered heart glued together at the thought of your kindness.

His hand still on your cheek, he spoke again. "Nah, I just got back to the city. I drove by your buildin' and saw you were up. I figured I'd check up on ya," he said, his voice full of concern.

You cracked a smile, knowing that Frank was always looking out for you. He was the one person you could count on, no matter what.

A visible frown formed between his brows as he realized you were barely standing on your feet. Without warning, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest. You were so small compared to him. He gently stroked your hair and held you tightly, feeling the heat radiating from your body. He knew something was wrong because you were never hot. He had felt your icy cold skin whenever he touched you, even during the hottest summer days. Without question, he lifted you in his arms and carried you across the room to your bed. 

"Frankie, I'm cold," you said, your voice trembling.

"Shit. You might have a fever," he said, his face creased with worry. "Why you ain't wearin' no socks, baby girl?"

Usually, you would melt under his sweet nicknames, but you couldn't even blush right now. He reached for your sock drawer, pulling out the thickest and fluffiest pair of socks he could find. He gently put them on your feet, making sure they were snug. 

"You take any painkillers yet?" he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of relief. 

You shook your head; you could barely speak at this point. Your body felt like it was being ripped apart, but you refused to give in. "I ran out of meds. Nothing I have is strong enough," you managed to say, gritting your teeth.

A loud scream left your mouth, making Frank sit beside you on the bed and instantly wrap his arms around you. He hugged you from behind, letting you weigh into him. One of his palms rested on your forehead, wiping your cold sweat from the burning skin, and the other squeezed your hand placed on your belly.

Frank's eyes narrowed as he watched you writhe in agony. "I gotcha," he said, his voice low. "Just tell me what you need."

You shook your head again, unable to focus. "Just stay," you pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered in your ear. "I'll take care of you." 

Another hour passed. You still lay there, your body racked with pain. Frank did what he could to ease your suffering, but he knew it wasn't enough. You started to fall asleep but remembered you couldn't be late for work.

"Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you please set my alarm for 5:30 am? I can't be late; I'm pitching a new proposal to a client." 

"Is that the big one you was tellin' me about last time?"

"Yeah, it's important," you mumbled again.

"I will." No, he won't. There's no chance you're going to work in such a state. When you finally fell asleep, he knew he couldn't let you go to work in the morning. He took your phone and dialled your boss's number.

You had her saved as "Your Highness," which always made Frank chuckle when you called her that. 

Your boss picked up on the first ring. "Hi, it's good you're callin', the-" She started, but Frank interrupted her immediately.

"Mornin', ma'am. It's, ugh, Pete, actually. Sorry to bother you so early, but my girl won't be in today. She's, uh... under the weather," Frank said in a gruff voice.

"Oh dear, I hope she feels better soon. I was about to text her and tell her the client postponed last minute. She can take two days off; she hasn't used any sick days yet. Please give her my regards," the boss replied with concern.

"I will. She needs some rest. She'll call ya back when she can."

"Of course. Thank you for letting me know, Pete. She mentioned you a bunch of times. It's good she has someone to take care of her." 

"'Course, ma'am."

Frank made one more quick phone call before he heard you moving. He rushed to you only to find you frantically searching for work clothes.

"Easy there, darlin'. Your presentation got postponed. You got two days off now."

"What? How?"

"I called your boss. Told her you were sick."

"You did what?!" You were surprised and angry.

"Relax. She said you could take your sick days. You go back to bed and get some rest."

"Really?" A huge weight just dropped off your shoulders. "Thank you, Frankie." You were relieved and grateful.

Ding. Dong.

"Who the hell is that?" you wondered aloud.

"Lemme get that. You go back to bed," Frank said, already halfway to the front door.

You were feeling better, but still in pain, so you crawled back to bed and waited for Frank.

"Who was it?" you asked, curious.

"Just a friend of mine," Frank replied as he handed you a package of pain meds. "A combat medic. He knows his way around this stuff."

"I thought you took care of the drug dealers, not became friends with them," you quipped, the first hint of humour in your voice all day.

Frank chuckled. "Anythin' for you, sweetheart."

You smiled at Frank, feeling grateful for his presence in your life.

You looked at him, trying to read his expression. "Frank, what does that mean? Anything for me?"

He hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "It means I'll always be there for you, no matter what. I'll protect you, take care of you, and never let anythin' happen to you. You're important to me, more than you know."

You felt a warm sensation spread through your chest, and you couldn't help but smile. "You mean a lot to me too."

Your heart swelled with emotion as he leaned in and kissed you gently. "I'm not good with words, but I hope you understand," he whispered.

As Frank pulled away from the kiss, he looked at you with a tenderness that melted your heart. "You should rest," he said softly.

But you didn't want to be alone. "Will you stay with me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, darlin'," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shifted over in bed, making room for Frank to join you. As he settled in next to you, you snuggled up against his chest, feeling safe and protected.

"You know," you said after a few moments of silence, "I never expected to find someone like you."

Frank tightened his arm around you. "What do you mean?"

"I mean someone willing to go to such great lengths to take care of me and protect me. Someone so kind and gentle but also so strong and fierce. You're everything I never knew I needed."

Frank's lips curved into a soft smile. "I feel the same way, darlin'. You're the one thing that makes everything worth fighting for."

You sighed contentedly, feeling more at peace than you had in a long time. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Frank's arms, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Frank would face it together.

For years, Frank had been haunted by nightmares, unable to find solace in anything. But with you by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope that he hadn't felt in ages.

[hamiltonaf]

Payback | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: My apologies for not posting part 2 of ‘One More Dance’, I’ve been so busy and I’m currently working on it so hopefully it will be up soon. Inspo is from an old tiktok trend. Enjoy .xo

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

The thud of heavy rain drops hitting against my window set the mood to do absolutely nothing today. Though it doesn't work like that today since I have an assignment due in a few days time. It would also be ideal to cuddle someone right about now but that's out of the question because of a certain someone.

After completing half of my assignment, which I was quite satisfied with, I decided to call it a day for work and take advantage of the gloomy weather.

Taking a look at Instagram was a bad idea since I came across rumours of Kylian dating another girl. So much for breaking up a month ago and wanting to 'focus on football'. His excuse still bothers me since it was a poor one after dating for almost 3 years. I don't see a change of performance on the pitch if I’m being honest. I guess everything happens for a reason, maybe we're just not meant to be.

I mean if he moved on then so should I, right ? It then hit me that I should spice things up and give something for people to talk about. We’ll excuse my petty behaviour and blame it on the weather for making me somewhat evil. Before causing some drama, I called (Y/F/N), "Ello !" she answered. "Hey girly ! How are you doing on this beautiful day ?" I asked. "Ugh I’m so bored, you have no idea” she whined. “But never mind me, how are you doing more specifically ?” She asked curiously. “I’m doing okay, but-“ “I can already tell something is up your sleeve” she cut me off.

“Damn you really know me well” I pouted. “Of course ! Otherwise I wouldn’t be your bestie. Anywho, spill the tea…I’m all ears” she said enthusiastically. “So word of mouth right now on insta is that he is dating someone else, there’s literally pictures of them at dinner together” I rolled my eyes. “Shut up ! What the actual fuck dude. That’s so messed up. He’s such an ass” she yelled. “Yeah yeah I mean it hurts but the only way for my petty ass to get over it is-“ “If you do the same thing” she finished my sentence.

“Exactly ! So remember that TikTok we wanted to try out ages ago where one of us is dressed up as the guy and take out a bunch of pictures to look like a couple” I reminded her. “Oh my god ! Our time has finally come ! Okay I’m on my way, I’ll literally be there in like 5 mins” she said lastly before ending the call.

As soon as (Y/F/N) came over, we went straight to my dresser and got working on her makeup. We started by accentuating her veiny yet bony hands and then contoured her cheekbones, as well as her jawline to look more masculine. I failed to mention how smart she is, she came through with a bouquet of my favourite flowers so I had something else to post about.

Once we were done with her makeup, she slipped into one of my high heels so she was much taller than me. With her oversized hoodie and cap on you’d literally think that she’s a guy - a hot one at that too. I changed into a black slip dress and took off my shoes to spice up the picture, and exaggerate her height.

When (Y/F/N) came up behind me in the mirror, we both burst out laughing over how accurate she looked to a guy. “Shit. Even I would date me” she said before getting serious and wrapped her arms around my waist. After a few pictures of my head tilted and her face nuzzled into my neck, we finally had the picture. Her side profile looked so sharp, it’s actually insane.

After all of this, I suddenly felt hesitant to post for some odd reason that even (Y/F/N) noticed. I think it was pretty obvious how long I was staring at the pictures. “Girl don’t hold back now, just do it. He should see that you also moved on” she wiggled her brows. “You got a point there” I said to myself. I then uploaded 2 stories, one of the bouquet and one of us together - both simply captioned with a white heart. “If I saw this for the first time, I’d literally scream. Everyone is gonna lose their minds, especially him” she smirked. “Feels good to throw this back at him” I smirked back. “Welcome to the dark side bestie” she patted my back. “Anywho I need to run, got a few errands. Love you and call me later to update me on the drama. I’ll desperately be waiting for your call” she said as she gathered her things. “Of course ! Will do. Thanks bestie” I quickly hugged her before she hurriedly left.

I proceeded to spending the rest of my afternoon binging on early 2000's chick flicks, it wasn't until the evening when I decided to check my phone again that I noticed how many notifications I received. My notifications were the highest its ever been, well shit. We love to see it I guess.

I received countless tags on reposts as well as comments from fans, and surprisingly messages from family - understandable how many messages I received since it’s so evident that it’s not Kylian in the pictures. Scrolling through my notifications I decided to ignore all until my eyes landed on Kylian’s contact name, 'Kyky'. Surprise surprise.

"Heyy" the text read, I rolled my eyes, I don't have time for a conversation starter. I left him on read and proceeded with watching my movies. It wasn't even 5 minutes and my phone started to ring. It was Kyky calling. My heart started racing, I was hesitant to answer the call because what are we going to talk about and why call now ?

"Hello" he greeted. "Hey" I answered plainly. "Are you busy ?" He asked curiously. "Well kind of.. I'm actually just getting ready to leave" I said with a devious smile creeping onto my face. "Oh. Erm okay never mind" he said disappointed. "Why ?" I raised a brow. "I'm actually outside your apartment" he said embarrassed "No way" I said lowly to myself. "Have a look" he said as I then walked towards my front door and was met with his face. I ended the call and looked at him in shock, "You- here- like..what are you doing here ?" I asked.

"Can I come in please ?" He asked pleadingly. "What for ?" I asked back. "To talk about us" he said. "Theirs no us anymore. Theirs nothing for us to talk about" I said as I was about to close the door. "Wait. Just give me a chance" he said softly. "Theirs literally no point. You moved on..I moved on-" "You have another boyfriend already ?" He asked in shock. "I'm offended that you think I'm not capable of moving on so soon" I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest.

"So you must've known this guy whilst we were dating ?" He asked as he started to grow angry. "Yeah so ?" I scoffed. "You were just waiting for us to break up so you can date this guy" he said as he started to raise his voice. "You literally did the same thing. You made it seem like it was such a simple break up for your own good, but for the last 2 weeks you're rumoured to be with another girl !"I said as I started to grow annoyed. "Yes, but she's just a friend" he said.

"Funny how we’ve been together for so long and I never met this friend before" I said. Just then my next door neighbour yelled at us for raising our voices. "Please do yourself a favour and leave" I said as I shut the door. I then heard rattling of the door and in came Kylian. "You weren't invited inside" I said. "Well I had a spare key" he said as he held up the key. "That was supposed to be returned to me when we broke up" I said as I snatched the key from his hand and went to sit on my couch. “Also, how could you act surprised that I moved on when you’re literally here after I posted a picture with another guy ?” I questioned. He then sat beside me, "Can you just stop talking about that idiot ? I came here to talk about us…How do I make you love me again?"

"Love ? Dream on" I half laughed. "I'm being serious" he said as he looked between my eyes. "Forget about me loving you. How do I know that you love me ?" I asked. "Well I missed you all this time so I came back" he smiled. "It's not that simple. If you truly loved me as you say, you wouldn't have wanted to break up after all these years" I said. "Look I'm sorry okay ? I really am. I wish I could go back in time and reverse what I did...I just needed some time to myself to think about my future personal life and I kept imagining you in it..." he said as he gently moved a strand away from my face.

"Don't play with me right now" I warned. "No jokes. I love you. I really do, and I want to continue to spend the rest of my life with you" he said as he held my hands. "Okay cute. Anyways I have to go meet my boyfriend. It was nice of you to stop by..I'll think about it" I huffed as I got up. He grabbed a hold of my wrist and pulled me towards him to sit on his lap. "Stop lying" he smirked. "What makes you think I'm lying ?" I raised a brow. "I know your facial expressions when you lie. I just know you all too well because you literally could've left the second you opened your door instead of coming back inside" He said with a smile.

"Well I've changed my mind, I rather be with him right now" I shrugged. "I want my old (Y/N) back" he pouted. "She left the building the day you left her" I said lastly and got up to walk to my room. "Ouch" he pouted as he followed behind me. "I still love you no matter what. Always have and always will" I gave him a brief look before pretending to rummage through my closet. "So is this how it's going to be ?" He asked as he leaned back in my bed and watched me. "I told you that I need to think about it" I said as I continued to skim through my closet. "I'm not going until we stop fighting" he said casually "This isn't fighting. People don't get back together based off 5 minutes of talking to them after a whole month" I said as he stood up to stand in front of me.

"I like it when you're angry" he said as he got closer. "Don't" I said softly as I looked down. He lifted my head to meet his eyes as he cupped my cheeks, his thumb tracing over my lips. "You're making this harder" I pouted. Just when his lips were a mere centimetre away, he mumbled "It shouldn’t be hard if you have a boyfriend…Should I stop ?"

I hesitated to answer. To give up the game and kiss him or keep annoying him. “I can’t” I faked a pout. “Why not ?” His mood dropped. “I can’t do this to Nico” I said as I looked down. “Fuck Nico !” He yelled. “How the hell do you even know this guy ?” He asked frustrated. “We met at a party” I answered casually. “Besides him, it’s wrong of you to cheat on your girlfriend” I said looking everywhere else but him. He walked closer which made me take a step back, my back hitting against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of me, cornering me. “I just told you that she’s a friend and nothing more” he tried to say calmly. “I’m not convinced” I shrugged.

“Forget about her, she’s irrelevant right now. I came to claim back what was once mine. If I have to fight this stupid so called boyfriend of yours, then I will” he said as he inched his face closer to mine. There was a moment of silence. Both of us holding eye contact and switching between looking at each others eyes and lips. He leaned in and I didn’t stop him. It was a sweet soft peck. His forehead against mine, he sighed and said "I'll give you your space.” I surprised myself by grabbing a hold of his hand and pulling him back into place. “What’s wrong ?” He asked. “You’ll fight for me ?” I teased. “I know that I’m not fighting anyone because you’re lying, but if I have to then I will” he said as his hands were on my waist.

“How can you tell I’m lying ?” I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. “Besides reading your facial expressions, we wouldn’t be in this position right now” he said. “Or doing this” he said softly before placing his lips on mine. I pulled him closer against me and just then he broke away from the kiss. “I think I should go” he teased. "No no wait just a little more" I hushed him as I pulled him closer to connect our lips once again.

[lvlyghost]

I See You

Pairings: Ghost x F! Reader

Summary: you’re tired of not being enough for anyone

Tw: angst, comfort, reader has some insecurities about herself

A/N: just something that came to my mind at 12:00 a.m while listening to this song and that I had to write bc otherwise the voices in my head won’t shut up. not sure this is even good but oh well, enjoy!💗💫❤️‍🩹✨

Never a second look.

Never a priority.

Always the second choice.

Sometimes not even that.

You were used to your whole life.

You pick at your food not really wanting to eat. Cheek resting against your free hand. Sitting alone you sigh, today’s one of those days when you don’t feel like socializing with your team. There’s a hole in your heart that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a gnawing feeling that claws at your chest and stings.

Another disappointment. It is what it is. Your bottom lip slightly trembles with the memory of how it all went wrong a few hours ago.

You thought…

You hoped…

Yet again…

A mistake.

You didn’t like the guy that much anyway. No, you were completely head over heels for someone else. No that it mattered, it was never going to happen. But still.

Why?

You stand up.

Am I the problem?

Leaving the cafeteria of the base making your way to…

Where were you going?

Nowhere really. You just needed to get out of there. So deep in your self-destructive thoughts, failing to notice the three men that were watching you from the other side with worry in their eyes.

Before any of them could say anything there were only two sitting.

He found you in the armory after looking around for a while.

Arms crossed over his chest, making his shirt tighten.

You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. You could just sense him whenever he was around.

“Tell me everything.” His guttural voice broke the silence. Ghost cared for his team members, there was no doubt. But for some reason he had a soft spot for the small girl with a bright smile that didn’t care about talking too much. Except this wasn’t like yourself at all. He knew you more than you could ever comprehend.

“What do you mean?” You murmur, hands shaking ever so slightly whilst cleaning your gun. Eyes avoiding Ghost’s enormous frame.

“Don’t make me…”

“What’s wrong with me Ghost?” You blurt out. Slamming your gun down the table, still refusing to look at him in the eye. A shaky breath leaves your glossy lips, tears threatening to spill.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, love.” He mutters, Ghost is taken aback by your question, although he doesn’t let it show.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath.

“No one cares for me, I- I just, I’m trying.” A moment passes. “Why are you here?” You finally turn to look at him.

He doesn’t answer right away. The mask is gone, he’s only wearing the black balaclava that he once let you lift enough to clean up a rather nasty wound.

“I’m not blind, kid. Whether you believe me or not, I sense when something’s bothering you.” He explains. “And I’m your superior, whatever’s got you like this…”

Before he can think, Ghost reaches your cheek wiping away a lone tear only to retreat his hand somewhat abruptly. The gesture surprising both of you.

You give in. Deep down, you know he’s the one you trust enough to say it.

“I just wish someone would care enough for me one day. Most people spend their lives, waiting for someone to see through them, I- I just want someone to…”

Ghost hums. Whatever possessed him to say the next words is still beyond him.

“S’alright, kid.” A heart beat. “I see you.”

[greyyson-but-no]

lego flowers for you, dear

genre | pure fluff. cheesy, even.

warnings | kissing, uhhh. that's it. i think. fake arguing, i guess? like, half edited, no use of y/n, they/them as far as im concerned, lower case on purpose

pairing | tommyinnit x reader (you pov)

word count | about 1.3K

a/n | this had so many drafts, at one point they went to see hamilton but that's gonna be a different fic now otherwise it would be too long. i have a feeling this might not be very "tommy" cause i was struggling see him while writing but i did my best. have fun reading :)

you and tom had fallen asleep last night quite late, giggling and smiling together as usual, looking forward to the following day. your one year anniversary.

if you were being honest, you didn’t know how you had managed to keep a relationship for one year, especially with someone as hyper and chaotic as tommy. in the beginning of dating him, you had been hesitant since you hadn’ been able to handle relationships before, but also confused, because with tom, you didn’t get burnt out. you were okay with being affectionate and cheesy around him, which had never happened before. you had never felt more comfortable around anyone. which, you believe, was the reason you had managed to put up a year with him.

‘put up’ being used very loosely. you wanted nothing more than to spend all your time with him. in no way did you ‘put up’ with tommy.

when you woke up in the morning, you rolled over, wanting to cuddle with tom for a little before getting up, only to find empty space.

okay, that’s odd. tom was very much not a morning person, especially not on a day like today.

you slid out of bed, grabbing one of tom’s hoodies that was hung on the back of a chair, pulling it over you from the slight autumn chill, making your way into the kitchen, just to see if he was there. which he was. standing over the hob with two of the flat pans, pancake batter poured into them. he had the speaker on, playing his khai dreams playlist, and he moved around the kitchen while softly singing along.

“tom?”

“morning, lovely.” he spoke, your stomach curling at the sound of his morning voice, which had not yet worn off.

“tom, since when could you make pancakes?” you asked, spotting the small pile of them on a different plate placed on the island countertop. none of them were burnt. none of them had holes or were broken. they looked perfect.

tom smiled. “i’ve always been able to. mum taught me ages ago.”

you fell onto your hip, crossing your arms over your chest. “so why am i always the one that makes them?”

“so when i make them, it’s special.” he grins, leaning over and pressing a kiss on your cheek before running off to put the now cooked pancake on the plate along with the others.

you gasped, watching as he failed to hide the large smile on his face, eyes wide. “cheek!”

“most of them are done, you can help yourself.” he spoke, concentrating on the final one.

but you shook your head. “no it’s fine, i’ll wait for you.”

“what a sweetheart.” he joked, not having to even look up at you to see the smile curved into your lips. and after a second of comfortable silence, he stood up straight, coming over to you, pulling you in for a kiss filled to the brim, overflowing, even, with love. the pure adoration you had for each other. once the two of you pulled away, he smiled, resting his forehead against yours. “and happy anniversary, darling.”

“happy anniversary, pretty boy.”

the two of you ate breakfast together like usual, random conversations about random things, catching up on news and ending up with the tv playing quietly in the background. it was nice. it was quiet, which was rare with tom and his job. it was perfect, really.

after breakfast, you convinced tom to come back to bed for a few cuddles. just lengthening the quiet time you had before he took you out for whatever he was planning. for about half an hour or so, the two of you spent time together in bed, under the covers just tangled in each other, not necessarily needing to talk, just small murmurs to each other every now and again. it often took tom a while to calm down, unless he was burnt out, but that morning he managed it perfectly, being calm and relaxed around you, shutting down together while you recharged for the day ahead. tom said he apparently had a lot planned.

most of the day had been spent doing all your favourite things. you taught him more guitar, giggling as he struggled some of the harder chords now that he was getting to that point. you were in the middle of teaching him ‘charlie boy’ by the lumineers, which he was really eager to learn, since it was one of your favourite songs. overall, it was going pretty well, and it was still mostly enjoyable. the two of you had a good time, and tom really did love playing guitar, even if he sometimes struggles to keep up or have precision.

he, in turn, had taken you into the office and forced you to play some minecraft (forced being used very loosely. you actually loved playing it but shush). he had taken you onto the server and shown you around, cackling in proudness as you hit an mlg perfectly. it was only then when you revealed you played minecraft a ton as a kid, you just hid it from him. at first, he was jokingly annoyed, but quickly got over it when he realised he could now bring you into more videos, if you were comfortable with it, of course.

you had gone to one of the more expensive cafes in the centre of brighton, you getting slightly annoyed when he refused to let you pay, knowing he would do the same when he took you out for dinner tonight. but he promised he would let you pay for ice cream afterwards, and even if it wasn’t the same, you knew it would be the best deal you could get.

as well as that, you both accidently bumped into james and wilbur while walking around the park. you’d stuck around for a bit talking to them but then tom had dragged you away, ready to go back home. tom had said you didn’t have time to get into a deep conversation with wilbur and james, pulling you away as you promised to meet up with the two of them at a later date for coffee or something.

back home, tom made you go into the living room bringing out your gift a second later. you squinted at him as you opened it, mumbling under your breath, “we said we weren’t going to do gifts.”

“it’s only small.” he excused, laughing slightly under his breath as you rolled your eyes, unwrapping it.

it was a lego flower.

a lego rose, unassembled, which meant that he wanted to build it with you. a small smile curved into your lips as you looked up at him grinning. “how did you know?”

“know what?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

without saying another word, you reached behind the sofa and pulled out your gift, chucking it at him. it rattled as he caught it, and he laughed, immediately knowing what it was. he ripped the wrapping paper apart and smiling at the lego yellow tulip that was sprawled across the front of the box.

he looked up at you, a loving look in those gorgeous blue eyes. “we said we weren’t doing presents.”

“shut up.” you shook your head, leaping across the small gap between you and tom, closing it as you pulled him into a hug with such vigour that it pushed the two of you onto the floor. “i love you.”

“love you too, lovely." he spoke, smiling. "cmon, lets build them." and you push yourself off of him, pulling him up with you, ending up just in front him as you passed him the yellow tulip box.

after a few minutes of silence, you got up and grabbed the speaker from upstairs, connecting it to your phone and putting on your shared playlist. it consisted of a lot, including lovejoy, mac miller, khai dreams and a few other of your favourite artists, like the lumineers and many others. it was the perfect playlist for this, just chilling together while building each others presents.

just under half an hour later, you hold the red flower out, examining it and smiling, seeing tom behind it, just finishing as well. you took his hand as you hand him your flower.

"give me one second, i've got the perfect thing to put this in."

and you squeezed his hand lightly behind standing up and leaving the room. you came back a few seconds later with a small pot that had been sitting on your desk without a use for the past few months. tom handed you both flowers as you put each one in. they sat perfectly in the small pot, and tom stood up as you made your way to the windowsill, sitting them on the rim along the bottom. they fit perfectly in the spot, along with the other small, real plants that were scattered along the windowsill.

tom came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and settling his chin on your shoulder. "perfect."

"i know!" you laughed, leaning your head back so you could look up at him, which didn't quite work out as he leaned to the right to leave a soft kiss against your cheek. you giggled slightly at his actions, relaxing further into him as you looked out the window together.

but suddenly he was gone, spinning you around and taking your hand in his. "now come on! dinner reservations are soon, and you've got to get ready! we need to be out of the house by half six."

"we going fancy or casual?" you asked, holding his hand tightly, smiling up at the man you loved so dearly.

he shrugged. "somewhere inbetween. honestly, it doesn't really matter, it's not a 'we'll throw you out if you're not dressed black tie' but it's not casual. find something that works for that."

"very helpful." you grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly, feeling his hands on your waist as they squeezed softly.

it wasn't over yet, but this was already the best day you'd ever had. you didn't think anything could ever stop you from loving that man, and you don't expect tom would ever do anything to even threaten that. you'd never felt so much love for one person, and you were sure that he felt the exact same way towards you. life couldn't have been better.

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch7

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]

ao3 version [the formatting is much better over on ao3, thanks to better html]

i've also made a Spotify playlist if you like listening to music as you read :0

As you pull your car into a parking spot at Hannibal’s office, you are very stressed. After all, you went into work this morning under the assumption that it would be a perfectly normal day, only to find Franklyn Froideveaux’s corpse in your office. To make matters worse, you have an ugly feeling that his death is on your hands. You’ve grown to know the Ripper as you’ve grown to know Hannibal himself, and you have to wonder if the encounter at the opera house pushed him to kill Franklyn. In an ideal world, you probably wouldn’t be voluntarily going to a therapy session with the very same murderer who dumped a corpse in your office. Unfortunately, beggars can’t be choosers.

As you walk up the steps and into the waiting room, you can’t shake the thought that Hannibal’s sudden availability is somewhat unusual. You were under the assumption that the man was fully booked throughout the day. Perhaps he set aside time for you? You quickly stop that thought before it turns into the slippery slope of a logical fallacy you know it to be. As you hover awkwardly in the waiting room, you notice that the space is empty—per usual. However, there’s a strange, unsettling aura clinging to the shadows that the chairs cast on the wall behind them. You frown and fidget restlessly, waiting to be allowed inside. You’re sure Hannibal has given you explicit permission to enter when you please, but you still feel as if the door to his office is an insurmountable obstacle.

“Please, come in.” Hannibal’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He’s lingering at the door and holding it open for you. Ever the gentleman, you scoff internally. Per request, you pass through the door, ignoring the strange shiver that goes down your spine as you brush shoulders with him.

As you walk into the space, you’re immediately struck by the feeling that something is different—it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is. The chairs are pushed even closer together than last time. You try not to read into that too much, despite the undeniable knowledge that the distance between them has been shrinking each session. You can’t pinpoint a logical reason for Hannibal to push the chairs. You can think of several illogical explanations, but they’re too far-fetched.

“Is this about Franklyn’s murder?” Hannibal is perceptive, as always. Although, you suppose that's a rather obvious conclusion. Anyone would be startled at the notion of a man turning up dead in their office. Your brief encounter with Franklyn a few days ago continues to run through your mind. Should you have done things differently?

It takes you several moments to make sense of your thoughts. Hannibal graciously waits for you to continue; meanwhile, you spend an immeasurable time pacing around the office restlessly. You can’t sit today—you feel like you’re on the precipice of a big discovery. You walk around in circles over and over again, ignoring Hannibal’s heated gaze. You can feel him staring throughout the entire time you’re pacing.

“Something’s missing,” you choke out, your voice raspy from lack of use. You clear your throat and continue. “I tried to see it through the Ripper’s eyes, but… things were missing. I felt his disgust, contempt, and irritation easily enough. But, there was something else… Something lurking beneath the surface. I tried to get at it, but I couldn’t do it. That’s never happened before.”

“Jack seemed to think the murder was committed out of love.” You must react rather ostentatiously at that, because Hannibal raises a brow. “You seem surprised.” He remarks. There’s a trace of amusement flickering from under his carefully crafted mask.

“He never told me anything along those lines…” You sigh. Hannibal has an intriguing expression on his face, as if he expects you to display more of a reaction. It almost seems as if Hannibal is deliberately trying to cause strife and discord between you and your coworkers. You feel rather uneasy about that realization and you instead decide to dissect Jack’s theory. “And… love? I don’t understand.” The clock on the wall ticks loudly, creating an uneasy monotony.

“I imagine the Ripper feels as if no one understands him,” Hannibal murmurs, leveling you with an intent gaze. It feels as if he’s looking directly into your soul. Vulnerable to his dissecting stare, you take a shuddering breath in. The world around you blurs and all you can see is Hannibal.. “No one… except, perhaps, you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you say instinctively. Admittedly, your heart is roaring in your ears. The fireplace against the wall is crackling. You pace around a little more, before finding yourself at Hannibal’s desk. You look down at the surface, unsurprised to find that it’s neatly organized. There’s a piece of parchment with a graphite pencil resting on top of it; you look down and realize that it’s a sketch of Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus. The more you look at the sketch, the more you’re struck with a strange feeling of familiarity. Those figures don’t look like Achilles and Patroclus… They look like Hannibal and you. Unnerved, you look back at Hannibal and try to find the conversation again. “I mean, I’ve just been making deductions about the Ripper.”

Hannibal looks relaxed, despite the attentive manner in which his eyes follow you around the room. After a few more moments spent pacing about, you give in and take a seat at your designated chair. Hannibal’s eyes are glittering when you look over at him. “Your deductions have been correct so far.” You suppose that’s true.

“Even so, that’s not love; that’s just… understanding.” You trail off. Love is a rather large leap in logic, in your opinion. Surely, the Ripper doesn’t love you.

“To the Ripper, understanding is love,” Hannibal asserts, his lips quirking up at the sides. You’re not sure where he’s finding humor in this situation. Perhaps he’s trying to toy with you. Unfortunately for him, you know that he’s the Ripper. Regardless, it appears as if Hannibal enjoys stringing you along like this. You inhale slowly, trying not to fidget and reveal how restless you truly feel. “You are the first person to see through his facade, through the layers of his mask.”

“Oh,” you remark, suddenly feeling as if you were dumped in a vat of cold water. A shiver rolls down your spine and your skin prickles in the brisk air of the office. You suddenly understand what he’s insinuating. You scramble to find something else to latch on to—a diversion that will take you away from the turn this session has taken. The conversation has turned far too meta for your comfort, and you’re unsure how to tread these tumultuous waters.

“I fear the ordinary mind wouldn’t be able to handle his love,” you find yourself saying, breaking through the tense silence that momentarily descended on the space. Hannibal looks up and stares at you with an inexplicable expression on his face. His mask seems to be fastened to his skin rather tightly today. You, on the other hand, aren’t as composed; you’re currently combatting several different emotions at once. You know you’re on the crux of an important, potentially earth-shattering realization… but you’re too apprehensive to accept it. Instead, you decide to indulge Hannibal. You’ll play his verbal games, dodge the truth for long enough that the falsehoods take life and become reality.

“You’re far from ordinary,” Hannibal murmurs inexplicably. You instinctively stiffen, your shoulders tightening. The remark isn’t exactly unwelcome, but it feels like a diversion from the current conversation. You have to grit your teeth and remind yourself not to snap at him.

“That’s not quite relevant, is it?” You frown, feeling your hackles rising. You subconsciously straighten your posture, if only to take advantage of the few inches of distance it gives you from him. Hannibal leans forward in his chair in response. You feel bolted down to your chair, frozen under a predator’s watchful eye.

“Who can say?” Hannibal asks infuriatingly. That habit of his—answering a question with another question—is really grating on your nerves.

“Do you always have to be so cryptic?” You roll your eyes, trying to pretend as if this is just a playful conversation. There are no stakes here. You’re not risking anything by sitting in this office, across from a practiced killer. “I’m horrible with ambiguity; you’re going to have to be clearer.”

“This killer wrote you a poem,” Hannibal declares. After that remark, you can’t help but think back to Franklyn’s corpse—the grotesque mutilation juxtaposing the bloody tears artfully falling down his face. You loathe the fact that you can see the poetic beauty hidden beneath the gore. “You shouldn’t let his love go to waste.”

“You’re being cryptic again,” you sigh, resisting the urge to grab Hannibal by the collar and just shake him. “Besides, I’d argue that his love has already been wasted on me.” You can’t even let yourself entertain the thought of the Ripper—and, by extension, Hannibal— being in love with you. It’s a cruel joke and nothing more.

“Evidently, he does not think so.” You rub your eyes roughly, feeling the sudden overwhelming urge to cry. You wait a few moments before chancing a glance at Hannibal, only to find that he has a perceptive look on his face. “You are not, nor have you ever been, a waste,” Hannibal remarks, as if sensing the sudden negative turn your thoughts are taking.

“That’s nice of you to say,” you laugh sardonically. The laugh is broken and jagged, and it hurts your throat. You’re unable to get rid of the hysterical grin that is inexplicably tearing at your cheeks. Everything stings and burns. You feel horribly inadequate and vulnerable.

“As your psychiatrist, I’m limited to formalities,” Hannibal admits, clasping his hands and leaning forward. His lips are pulled taut and he almost looks concerned. You have to remind yourself of his caring mask. “As your friend, however, I must say that I care for you deeply and that you are absolutely worth loving.”

“Thanks,” you remark after too many moments of silence. There’s an unshakeable confidence in his voice and you really wish you could replicate it. You wish you could see yourself as anything but a burden. You place your hands over your eyes, feeling incredibly overwhelmed. You feel like you’re slipping, like your grip on reality is slowly slackening. What’s wrong with me?  You don’t realize that you’ve spoken aloud until you catch the troubled pull to Hannibal’s lips.

“This world has a lot of wrongs in it, but you are not one of them,” Hannibal asserts quietly. There’s a buzzing sound reverberating through your skull. Your head is pounding, as if you had just delved into your criminal profiling abilities and seen the world through Hannibal’s eyes. You put your hands over your eyes and relish in the brief solace the darkness provides you.

“I’m required to inquire about your wellbeing and safety,” Hannibal remarks. The ensuing silence hits you like a punch to the gut. You keep hoping, waiting for something to happen… but it never does. Why do you still hope? Furthermore, what are you even hoping for? Your doubts are clouding your thoughts, leaving you in a tormented haze of regret, shame, guilt, and grief. Hannibal is required to inquire about your wellbeing and safety—he would not, otherwise. The realization hits you hard, robbing you of breath.

“I’m fine,” you say, repeating the sentiment over and over in your head. Unfortunately, the repetition doesn’t make the feeling any more believable. You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. It feels as if the world is crumbling around you. Hannibal’s gaze has yet to leave your face and for the first time, you feel significantly unnerved by the thought. You push yourself to your feet and stand in front of him. Looking down on him doesn’t give you a surge of power in the way you hope it will.

“Pray forgive the discourtesy, but that doesn’t seem to be the case,” Hannibal says, not unkindly. His kindness feels patronizing. You clench your fists at your sides and take a deep breath. Ultimately, you let your guard down too much in front of the psychiatrist. Hannibal is not your friend—he is a working professional who is required to inquire after your wellbeing. No matter how much he may pretend to care, no matter how many opera outings you may share, he is your psychiatrist. It had been easy to forget that in the wake of Hannibal’s constant presence.

“I believe our session is over?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him and manifesting a sense of confidence that you certainly don’t feel at the moment. Hannibal’s eyes fall down to his wrist and he stares at his watch with furrowed brows.

“Apologies,” he responds. His hand falls to rest on the arm of the chair. Now that the watch has fulfilled its purpose, Hannibal’s gaze is fixated on you again. “I find the time to simply… slip away in your presence.”

You know that if you stay for even a second longer, you’ll give into your foolish hopes. You’ll fall for the cleverly crafted allure that Hannibal has cloaked around himself. You’ll read into every single minute detail, every chivalrous gesture and every warm smile that hides sharpened teeth.

Before you can even begin to contemplate how to dismiss yourself in a socially acceptable manner, your body is moving to leave. You faintly recognize Hannibal asking after you, but you’re exiting the office and closing the door behind you before you can process what he’s saying.

The car ride home passes by in a timeless blur. When you pull your car into your driveway, there’s something that immediately makes itself known to you. There appears to be something taped to your front door. You make sure to exit the car and lock it up before focusing your attention on the piece of paper on your door. Frowning, you take it off and read it.

TattleCrime

The Mark of a Killer: How the FBI’s “Best” Criminal Profiler Killed Franklyn Froideveaux

By Freddie Lounds

A corpse was recently discovered in the office of the FBI’s most prolific criminal profiler; the body was found to be mutilated nearly beyond recognition. The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit later confirmed the body to be that of Franklyn Froideveaux—who had been presumed missing after a friend reached out to the police in concern.

Froideveaux was dead for several hours upon discovery. Current working theories attribute the murder to the Chesapeake Ripper, and the FBI is insistent on the notion that the Chesapeake Ripper—the dangerous serial killer that mutilates his victims by removing their organs and presumably feasting on them—has returned. However, the victim’s body was found in the office of the same agent that has been consistently embroiled in these murders. Perhaps the consistent practice of “slipping into the mind of a killer” (1) has caused more harm than good. Jack Crawford, head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, maintains that his profiler did not commit this murder. However, the sudden appearance of Froideveaux’s corpse brings up many unanswered questions (2). Furthermore, inside sources claim that there was little to no evidence left at the crime scene.

Crawford is currently heading an investigation into the murder of Froideveaux, alongside the Behavior Analysis Unit—consisting of Beverly Katz, Jimmy Prize, Brian Zeller, and the aforementioned profiler. The FBI is remaining characteristically tight-lipped about the investigation, which naturally prompts many questions surrounding the nature of the murder and the crime scene’s discovery.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” an anonymous source (3) responds in regards to the culpability of the criminal profiler whose office serves as the scene of the crime. “Jack always had his favorites.” The inside source refused to elaborate further or answer any more questions.

The FBI’s silence has only shed more light onto the possibility that the murder was an inside-job. After all, the headquarters in Quantico are known to be heavily fortified and extremely secure—with tedious security checks and a fully staffed security team. The Chesapeake Ripper seems to be a convenient suspect—he had been presumed inactive for months. However, it’s hard to fathom that the Ripper snuck through the FBI’s headquarters and dumped a body in an agent’s office. An employee or agent, on the other hand, would have the security clearance to roam about the building with relative ease.

For some, the murder of Franklyn Froideveaux comes hand-in-hand with the return of the infamous serial killer, the Chesapeake Ripper; for others, Froideveaux’s murder is yet another secret that the FBI intended to keep hidden from the public eye.

Quote attributed to Jack Crawford, the head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.  

The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit—which houses the aforesaid criminal profiler—did not respond to TattleCrime’s request for further information.

This source elected to remain anonymous.

For inquiries, reach out to generalinquiry@tattlecrime.org.

If you have more information surrounding the murder of Franklyn Froideveaux or the killer widely known as the Chesapeake Ripper, reach out to freddie@tattlecrime.org.

You can’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. A million thoughts are running through your mind simultaneously. Unfortunately, this is far from the first time that you’ve been featured in a TattleCrime piece—especially when the writer is Freddie Lounds (she seems to have a strange vendetta against you). As is typical of TattleCrime, there is hardly anything in the piece that provides hard evidence of your supposed role in Franklyn’s murder. Finally, you have to wonder how Freddie Lounds got all this information. Jack made sure to keep the discovery an internal affair—or, at least, that’s what you thought. It appears there’s a leak somewhere in the bureau. You think back to the look in Zeller’s eyes when he confronted you earlier. He was likely the “anonymous source” that Lounds procured.

Shaking your head, you walk into your house and take off your shoes. While the article alone isn’t enough to irritate you, the events of the day had already left you in a sour mood. Now, this TattleCrime piece is enough to send you over the edge. You crumple the paper up angrily and throw it into the fireplace. Within a few moments, the fireplace roars to life. The article dissipates and burns to ash, but your doubts still remain.

next chapter

[avatar-anna]

Grief Fic, Part 2

this is a continuation of the fic i posted a few weeks ago where reader helps harry with his grief. you can read the first part here!

tw: themes/mentions of abuse/domestic violence.

as always, i try to be as sensitive as possible, and i never want to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable. there's nothing in this fic that's overly explicit, but there are mentions and allusions to dv.

Harry looked down at his phone and wondered if he was crazy for thinking it was strange that Y/n hadn't so much as emailed him in weeks.

Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into a situation that didn't actually exist. Perhaps he was reading a little too much into the fact that Y/n's new boyfriend was a raging asshole who was slowly but surely isolating her from all her friends and family.

Perhaps he wasn't crazy.

It wasn't like it was unusual for Y/n not to talk to Harry consistently. Both of them were plenty busy. He was a full time dad and simultaneously juggled a pretty successful music career—if he did say so himself—and she was the head nurse in the Labor and Delivery wing of a huge hospital. They went days without talking. It happened.

But this silence felt different.

It started with Y/n declining invitations. Sometimes Harry would invite her to a show if he was performing in town, or out for drinks when he needed a break from helping Harper with schoolwork and dance classes and Girl Scout troop meetings. Harry had plenty of friends he could go to and hang out with, but Y/n understood him in a way no one else did. She was Harper's godmother, had been his late wife's best friend. There were just some things that Harry felt comfortable talking to and confiding in with Y/n that he didn't with anyone else.

So when she started declining invitations to go out and stopped dropping by the house, Harry felt her absence. When she stopped coming over to see Harper, he'd became annoyed. And when she arrived late to their monthly family dinner looking like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, he became worried.

"I've been picking up extra shifts at the hospital," she'd said, trying to wave off her fatigue. But Harry knew better. He'd known Y/n long enough to tell the difference between exhaustion from work and...whatever she was now.

And now she wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry called, texted, left messages at the hospital, and she didn't respond to a anything. As days went by, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

His last effort was going to see her in person. Harry had managed to find out from one of Y/n's coworkers that she was off today, so he drove to her house, only when he knocked on the door, his friend wasn't the one who answered.

"What do you want?"

Harry had had the pleasure of meeting Y/n's boyfriend once, and for him, once was enough. He wasn't overtly rude—though now Harry would say otherwise—he just didn't really acknowledge his or Harper's presence the whole afternoon they were together. And while Harry realized that not everyone was a fan of kids, he couldn't help but think Y/n's boyfriend's icy demeanor toward his daughter was very telling.

Doing his best to swallow his negative thoughts and feelings, Harry mustered a smile. "I'm here to see Y/n. Is she here?"

"No."

"Okay...Do you know when she'll be back?" Harry asked, getting the feeling that extracting information from the man in front of him was probably going to be similar to pulling teeth.

"That's none of your concern."

Y/n's boyfriend tried to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry was having none of that. Putting his hand on the door, he said, "You know what? I think I'll just wait inside for her. It's pretty urgent."

"Back the fuck up—"

"Excuse me? You back the fuck—"

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, relief washed over Harry. Y/n was alive, which Harry seriously started to doubt for a second there. Then, as his eyes did a quick scan of Y/n, some of that dread started to creep back in.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She had fading bruises on one wrist, and harsh red marks on the other. Hand prints, Harry realized as he narrowed his eyes. He looked over at Y/n's boyfriend furiously. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"None of your fucking business, popstar. Now get the fuck off my property."

Civility had flown out the window. Harry wasn't about to let this prick get in his face or treat Y/n like that. He didn't care who saw or if he was about to come to blows with this guy. All Harry knew was that the bastard had hurt his best friend, and Harry couldn't let him get away with that. "Get out of my face, of I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? What? What are you gonna—"

"Enough! Harry, please. I'm fine. Now's really not a good time. Please, just—please go."

Y/n had frantically put herself between Harry and her boyfriend, and now that they were so close, he could see just how dark the rings around her eyes were, just how hollow her cheeks had become. The shirt she was wearing was too loose on her. What the hell was going on here?

"Harry, please. Go."

Y/n sounded scared as she pleaded with him, and that told him everything he needed to know. "Promise you'll call me," he said, taking her hand in his. "Promise, Y/n."

Nodding quickly, she squeezed his hand feebly. "I promise."

Harry went reluctantly, nearly stormed over to her boyfriend and beat the shit out of him when he saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. But he swallowed his anger and frustration, not wanting Y/n to get caught in the crossfire.

When he got home, Harry was a nervous wreck. He was distracted as he made dinner and cleaned up around the house. Part of him was glad Harper was spending the weekend with Soph's parents so she wouldn't see him like this, but he could've used their nighttime routine to take his mind off things.

He waited. And waited. Nearly stayed up all night in the hopes that she would call him. He must've fallen asleep at some point, though, as he woke up with a start on his couch. When he turned his phone on, there was nothing from Y/n.

*.*

"You were there for me, Y/n. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you."

"I don't want your help—I don't need your help, so just—just let it go, Harry!"

"He's trying to isolate you, Y/n," Harry said gently. "He's creating a wall between you and everyone who loves you and knows you and wants what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

Harry looked at Y/n sadly, which only seemed to piss her off even more than she already was. She'd been defensive, tried to convince him that she didn't need his pity or his help. This wasn't the same scenario, she insisted. She wasn't a danger to herself the way he had been two years ago. She was fine. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

It was all spilling out of her, yet it only made it more clear to Harry that she needed him.

"That's not what's happening. He's my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we spend time alone together?"

"Harper misses you," he said, going for a different angle. "She keeps asking when she'll get to see you, and I can't give her a straight answer. We're your family, Y/n, and he won't let you see us."

"That's not—That's not fair," Y/n said, not wanting to believe the truth, which was that Harry might be right.

"What's going on out here?"

"You're right. It isn't. It isn't fair that you call me crying three times a week because your boyfriend is out and you can't reach him. It isn't fair that he expects you to cook and clean for him when he's a grown man and you have a full time job. It isn't fair that he belittles you and—" Harry paused, the emotion he felt catching in his voice as he thought about the state of her wrists the last time he saw her.

He hadn't seen Y/n in weeks, but a few days after he went to her house, she called Harry absolutely beside herself at the situation she was in. He talked to her for hours, calming her down and reassuring her that he was there and so was his home if she needed somewhere to get away. And for the first time, Harry was convinced that Y/n was seeing reason.

Until days passed and she never left him, which led to a weeks-long cycle of her calling him crying, him comforting her over the phone while she convinced him she was done, and somehow never ended up leaving him. Harry finally couldn't take it any longer and drove to her place again. Seeing her slowly whither away, seeing her less and less physically because her boyfriend wouldn't let her hang out with him or Harper, it killed him. "It isn't fair that he's turned you into this—this shell of the person you once were. It's not right, Y/n—"

Harry didn't miss the way Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice, or the way she subconsciously curled in on herself. It was like she wilted every time he walked into a room, or tried to be as small as possible so he wouldn't notice her. How could she not realize it?

"Nothing, baby. Go back inside," Y/n, her hand shaking as she rested it on his arm.

"Is he giving you trouble? I thought I told you I didn't like you hanging out with him. What's he doing here?" he said, sending a withering glare Harry's way.

Harry stared right back, unwilling to let the piece of shit unnerve him. He had half a mind to say something when Y/n spoke up first.

"He was just going, I promise," she said, turning her eyes on Harry pleadingly.

Harry wanted to say something so badly. He wanted to shake his best friend by the shoulders and make her see reason. This man she called a boyfriend wasn't a man at all, but a monster, and he hated how much Y/n had changed because of him.

But Y/n still couldn't see what he saw, and starting a fight when he knew she would side with her boyfriend wouldn't do any good. It would probably just isolate her even more than she already was, which said something. It had been hard for Harry to tell when he was on the road, but now that he was back for a few months, his stomach was constantly in knots.

It made him miss his wife sometimes. Harry knew that Sophia would know exactly what to say to Y/n, to Harry. She would've been the voice of reason in all of this mess; she would've stopped this mess before it even started. And Harry couldn't help but feel partly to blame for not being around for Y/n when it was so clear she needed someone to look out for her. She'd always been so good at helping others, but it was as if she gave all her kindness and compassion to her patients and friends and family and saved none of it for herself.

"Go, Harry. Please."

Harry could see it, then. The terror. The fear that something might escalate if he stayed, which meant that at least on some level, Y/n knew that her boyfriend was bad news. So why put up with him?

He didn't want to go, but he didn't see any alternatives. Promising himself that he'd call first thing tomorrow morning, Harry nodded and backed down the walkway that led to Y/n's home.

*.*

It was a few weeks later when Harry spoke to Y/n again. He texted her constantly, and sometimes he would get a response. Then all of a sudden, nothing. It was like she'd gone radio silent again. Harry never liked involving Harper in all this, but just once he had her try to call Y/n, but there was still no answer, which was when he really started to worry. Y/n might have cut him off, but he never thought she would do the same to his daughter.

So now he was driving to the hospital. As far as he knew, Y/n was still working in L&D, and even if she wasn't working today, he hoped to get some answers from her coworkers.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry mustered a small smile for Miranda, Y/n's friend at work. He saw her often when he and Harper visited Y/n at the hospital, and she would always give Harper sweets from behind the counter. "My secret stash," Miranda would say with a wink. Harry never really considered the Labor and Delivery wing of a hospital somewhere where his daughter enjoyed spending her time, but they went often enough that he was pretty sure she liked it more than going to the park.

"Miranda. Hey. Is Y/n in today?"

The cheery look on Miranda's face faltered, which told Harry everything he needed to know. "She, um, she called out today. Said it was the flu."

"Do we really believe that?" Harry said.

Miranda's expression looked strained. "I—I don't know, Harry. I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was awkward to talk about Y/n when she wasn't here. Miranda was just a work friend, but Harry could tell that she knew more about Y/n's situation than she let on. But even so, it would be uncomfortable to talk about. "I'm—I'm just worried, that's all. "

"I know you are, Harry. I, um, I can spare a few minutes in just a bit if you want to wait over there," she said, nodding her head toward the waiting room where families and future fathers were anxiously awaiting good news.

Desperate, Harry nodded and found a seat in the waiting room. The minute he sat down, his leg bounced anxiously while his fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He just couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. His stomach twisted itself into knots to the point where he had to bend over and wait for the stress to pass, but every time one of his texts or calls went unanswered, it just got worse.

"Is this your first?"

Startled, Harry looked to his left to find a man about his age sitting two seats away from him. He also looked nervous, but in an excited sort of way. Harry's brows furrowed for a moment before remembering where he was sitting. "Oh, um no. My friend works here. I'm just waiting for her."

Seeing this man did distract Harry in a way. He remembered his own experience as an expectant father. Sophia had gone into labor a few weeks early, and Harry was on the other side of town buying some last minute things for the baby when he got the call. He'd missed nearly all of it, but Y/n had been there. She'd always been there for his family .

"Oh, sorry," the man said, and Harry noticed his fidgeting hands and nervous looks toward the entrance of the delivery room. "My girlfriend wanted me to wait out here. She claimed I shouldn't have to see her in such a compromised position. I disagreed, but she insisted."

Harry smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's..." He didn't even know how to describe it, but he wouldn't have exchanged sharing that experience with Soph for the world. Eventually, he said, "Good on you for respecting her wishes."

"Thanks. I mean, we weren't exactly dating when she got pregnant and we haven't known each other all that long, so it makes sense, but I love her, you know? I want to be there for her."

"I know the feeling."

For a moment, Harry thought of his wife. When she got sick, Harry had been there for her for every doctor's visit, every scan, every appointment, every symptom. He never let Soph feel like she was facing her illness alone. Because he loved her, and he promised to take care of her and be there for her when they got married.

Then, flashes of Y/n appeared in Harry's mind. He thought about how important she was to him, to Harper. She was there to pick up the pieces that Soph had left when she died. When no one else knew how to reach him, she did, and he never imagined there would be a way to repay her kindness. And now that there was, he couldn't just let her keep fading the way he had been two years ago. The situations weren't the same, but it was dire enough to keep him up most nights as he waited for the call to take her away from her awful excuse of a boyfriend.

Before the man could say anything else, a nurse appeared in front of him with a large smile on her face. Harry was left to stew in his anxiety-riddled mind once again. He tried not to look at his phone too much, but he still checked every few minutes, even though his ringer was on high and he wouldn't have missed a single text. He wanted to call until she picked up, but he also worried that her boyfriend would see and get suspicious or delete his number, so he settled on waiting for Y/n to do the right thing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Miranda appeared at his side. She nodded at Harry to follow her, and he hastily stood up while they left L&D behind.

"You know, we deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, what have you, all the time who try to force their way into the Delivery Room," she said as she walked, shaking her head sadly. "And she—she doesn't take shit from any of them, doesn't even flinch, and yet—"

Miranda's voice hitched as it trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Y/n was strong, didn't take shit from anyone. When he was lost in the darkest moments of his life, she was there to give him the tough love he needed to survive. She pushed him around, held him up in the shower, practically forced him to get better. And still—

"I don't know what to do."

Y/n had seemed to know exactly what Harry needed without him having to tell her, without him even knowing what he needed. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't do the same?

Miranda gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "You just have to be there for her when she realizes who he is."

"I can't wait that long! He's a monster—"

"You have to, or you'll just push her further away from you," Miranda said. "I know it's hard, believe me, we've fought about it at work, but she's not listening to reason right now. Saying the wrong thing will isolate her even more."

"I would never abandon her," Harry insisted.

"I know, and deep down she knows that too," Miranda said gently. "But if you push her the wrong way, she might think she's burned a bridge with you and not reach out when she's ready."

Harry understood what Miranda was getting at, he really did. He was currently walking on a tightrope, and one wrong move, one wrong comment could send him careening to the ground and Y/n would be left standing alone. He just wished he knew what to say to make her see what he did.

Harry shook his head. "I can't wait for him to do something to seriously hurt her. I would never forgive myself if—"

Harry didn't even want to finish that sentence, but luckily he was saved by his phone's ringer. Relief filled his gut for a moment, then dissipated when he saw it was an unknown number. Still, taking a chance, he answered.

"Hi, is this Harry Styles?"

Not a question he received often, but the person on the other line sounded official, so he said, "Yes, this is he."

"This is Lisa from the ER at Dayton Health Medical Center. We have you listed here as Y/n L/n's emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is Y/n hurt? What happened—"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Styles. Y/n just took a tumble down some stairs and is in need of a lift home. Are you able to come get her, or is there someone else I can call?"

"No!" Harry said, perhaps a little too intensely. Quieting his voice, he said, "No, I can—I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great. Be sure to bring your parking ticket. We validate at the front desk."

Harry all but scrambled to his car, sending a hasty text to his mum asking her to pick Harper from school. He told the woman on the phone that he would be there in twenty minutes, but damn it if he didn't make it in fifteen.

*.*

"Your wife is just behind this curtain, Mr. Styles."

Harry didn't even have time to correct the nurse, to register the ache in his chest at the word "wife." All he cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. He did, however, take a moment to steady his breathing before pushing back the curtain, praying for calm thoughts as he set his eyes on his friend.

Truth be told, Harry didn't know where to look first.

On the phone, he was told Y/n had fallen down the stairs and that she was fine, but she definitely didn't look it. Her cheek was bruised a greenish-yellow, and bled across the bridge of her nose. A cut marred her bottom lip, making one side look puffy and beyond painful. Her right arm was in a sling too, and each injury that Harry spotted filled him with more and more anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/n's voice was slightly distorted by her swollen lip, but he could tell she wasn't exactly happy to see him.

"I'm your emergency contact," Harry said simply, trying not to linger on any of her injuries for too long. He figured Y/n went to a different hospital to avoid being seen by anyone she knew, but she obviously forgot about him being her emergency contact. "What are you doing here?"

"I fell."

He'd hoped Y/n would give up the charade, but he wasn't surprised that she hadn't, either. "I heard. How did that happen?"

That question seemed to splinter the damn surrounding Y/n's heart. With a shaking hand, she covered her face and began to cry.

Harry was surprised by the tears, expecting his friend to deflect and lie the way she had been the last couple months. But with the first tremble of her shoulders, he was there, sliding into the cot beside her. He was gentle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her to his chest. He didn't like how frail Y/n felt, or how she flinched at first before settling against him.

"I don't know how this happened," she sobbed. "I never—I love him, and he—How can I love someone who did this to me?"

Not having the answer, Harry just continued to hold her, letting her get out everything she needed to. She didn't say much after that, and while he was desperate to know how she'd sustained so many injuries, he stayed quiet.

He expected to feel angry at Y/n's boyfriend, or perhaps angrier. But all he felt as she cried in his arms was despair, and perhaps a small seed of relief that she finally seemed to understand the danger she was in. And maybe guilt too, that he couldn't protect her the way she needed him to.

Harry kept it all to himself, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder and squeezing her gently. "You're gonna be okay."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

It was all he could think of to say. He didn't know how to answer her question, and he knew she wouldn't be okay for a while, but she would be. Harry would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said quietly. "You've been trying to get me to see the truth for weeks, for months, and I didn't listen. I didn't—"

"Hey, none of that."

Harry continued to hold Y/n and stroked her hair gently until her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Relief washed over him like a bucket of ice water down his back. He could physically feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that Y/n was asleep, Harry allowed himself to really feel everything he put a lid on since the curtains were pulled back on her section of the Emergency Room. He was scared, anxious, mad, but mostly just relieved she was safe. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the familiar smell of her shampoo eased his mind, and the way she curled into his side while she slept helped him feel like he was keeping her safe.

"I'm so happy you're safe," he whispered into the crowd of Y/n's head. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

*.*

A few weeks later, and Y/n and Harry were lounging on the couch together after dinner. Harper was asleep in her room after Y/n read her a bedtime story. His daughter had been ecstatic when Harry told her Y/n would be staying with them for a while, and even though she was recovering from her injuries, she still played dress up and tea time and built forts and made cookies and basically anything Harper wanted to do. Y/n was quieter and more subdued than usual, but her smile continued to grow as each day went by. It was just a little, just not by bit, but it was progress.

Now they were both lounging after dinner—one that Y/n insisted she make for Harry and Harper. They were talking about the album he was slowly but steadily working on. Well, Harry was talking, Y/n was listening quietly with one hand holding the stem of her wine glass.

When a lull in the conversation settled them in comfortable silence, Harry found himself looking at Y/n. He hated seeing her beautiful face so marred, and not just physically. The usual playful glint in her eye was gone, and she didn't smile as much anymore, and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He missed seeing her smile, seeing the light fill her eyes when she laughed at one of his lame jokes.

But in the last few days, Y/n's bruises started to heal, she was getting her sling off at the end of the week, and she didn't flinch when he helped her change her bandages or at casual touches from him. Things weren't totally back to normal, seeing as she still didn't feel comfortable staying alone at her place, but Harry was confident that they would be.

Harry blinked, his face flushing when he realized he'd been caught staring. Shaking his head, he looked at Y/n funny. "You'll stay with me obviously. I'll send someone to get you some extra clothes and stuff and you can stay with me and Harper while we work on getting your locks changed. Or longer. Whatever you need."

He sounded so matter of fact, so sure. It made Y/n want to cry. "I meant, like, far into the future," she said, running a tired hand through her hair. "I've always been able to trust my judgement, but now? I'll never look at a guy the same again."

"Rude," Harry joked. A desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but you appreciated it.

"You don't count. You're..."

"I'm...What?"

Hers. Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it, though, even if it was true. Sophia was Harry's great love, the mother of his child. Y/n would never even consider him as someone to date, which was a shame because he was quite possibly the perfect man in every other respect.

"My friend. I think you've held my hair back one too many times as I puked my guts up."

Harry nodded and laughed, but he didn't say anything after that. He looked contemplative, as if a million thoughts were swirling around in his head. Y/n was curious to know what he was thinking so hard about, but wasn't at the same time. Maybe some of their thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Well, I have an early shift tomorrow. I should probably get to bed," Y/n said eventually, standing up from her spot on Harry's sofa.

Harry nodded and mumbled something about having to take Harper to school early too, and she couldn't help but feel like there was this tension between them. Maybe not tension, but something. Something was off-kilter between them, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

As she went up the stairs to the guest bedroom, the same one she stayed in for as long as she'd been Harry's friend, he called her name. She turned to find him at the base of the stairs looking up at her with a fond little smile on his face.

"I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you need to. You'll always have a home here."

The words filled Y/n with warmth, making her feel safer and more settled than she had in months. In that moment, there was so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't even begin to vocalize, but even with the distance between them, she could read the look in Harry's eyes and knew she didn't have to say a thing.

[svnflower-writes]

i wanna find out

part one. ao3 | series masterlist

description: james is confused, but no less confused as he was when he was a high school student and denying his infatuation with his best friend's brother. now, regulus is a regular at the cafe he works in, and james doesn't know what to do.

warnings: none it's fluffy james is so cute

note: (reblog and comment please please please i need the validation) HI HELLO I AM BACK OKAY SO i heard the new gracie song and i went insane bc its so jegulus and wrote this in one hour in english class and its unedited. anyway this is a series, the masterlist is linked at the top. this chapter has been on ao3 since yesterday but i didn't get around to posting it here. lowkey think this is terrible but oh wellll

taglist: (i included the people on my marauders taglist so lmk if you don't wanna be on this one) @thestarslittleking @chaserofstars11 @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @star-ch4ser @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Upon his first week at high school, James Potter had come to the conclusion that he would end up with Lily Evans if it was the last thing he did. She was exactly the kind of girl he liked, she was pretty and opinionated and she seemed like the sweetest person he’d ever met. Remus had chuckled at his lovesick pining, not having the heart to tell the messy haired boy that your crush when you’re eleven years old is never your soulmate.

He pined after Lily for two years, with no clear progression other than Lily awkwardly smiling at him each time they passed in the hallways. Safe to say, James’ feelings were not reciprocated, and Marelne had grown a habit of snickering at the way his eyes followed her down the hall.

A few students at school had thought he was overdoing it slightly, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t overly pushy, and he had only asked her out once or twice. He was clear about his feelings, but wasn't going to make her uncomfortable. James Potter was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an undeniable feeling of heartache when she walked past and ignored his presence.

Now, however, James was in university. He was as over Lily as he had ever been, and he had escaped the inherent unpleasantries that come with being a teen going through the heartache of growing up. He felt undeniably free, and not to mention his psychology course was helping him understand himself better than ever. He was happier than ever, saying otherwise would be a blatant understatement. He was living in a flat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which had been his dream since primary school.

Lily was now one of his closest friends, and she worked at the flower shop that had a door into the coffee shop James worked in. Lily’s law degree and James’ psychology one made them a perfect pair, and much to Remus’ surprise, the two studied together regularly. The fact that James’ attention span and motivation had changed since high school was something no one had expected, and although he still struggled, he had his tactics to get back on track.

Some things never change, though, and James still hated quiet, slow paced days more than death itself. He could deal with stressful, busy days, but the mundane was his greatest oppressor, the repetitiveness of a quiet day driving him to the edge of his sanity. Today happened to be one of those days, he sat behind the counter at the small coffee shop he worked in as customers filtered in once every half an hour.

He sat, watching the slow ticking of the clock as the time went by as slow as it possibly could. It was 12:38pm, and 12:20 felt like hours ago. Blankly staring at the wall, the coffee he’d made himself had been discarded on the counter next to him and he didn’t bother picking it up, knowing that after half an hour of it sitting there, it would surely be cold. Each time someone walked past the door of the shop, James perked up—only to sigh as they walked past without a second thought. James’ tendency to romanticise everything that life had to offer often left him disappointed.

Finally, he heard the bell signalling that someone had opened the door sound, and his head snapped up in relief. ‘ My saviour, love of my life, thank god you’re here.’ his brain sung as he sprung up from his seated position, standing at the counter within seconds of the boy walking into the shop. His signature smile appeared on his face, “hi, how’s your day going?”

The boy seemed to falter, as if his carefully planned interaction of simply ordering what he wanted and leaving had been disrupted by a simple question. His dull blue eyes widened, and his lips fell open in a dumbfounded expression before he picked himself up and showed James a tight lipped smile. “Uh, I’m good.”

James noticed that this small interaction had absolutely foiled his carefully planned coffee order, and the boy had entirely forgotten to say what he wanted. James smiled softly, chuckling in his head. He always thought it was interesting how common these interactions seemed to be when you worked in a coffee shop. The psychology major in him couldn’t help but psychoanalyse these interactions, which made working in hospitality both intriguing and perplexing. He found that you could get a pretty good idea of someone’s mindset and what their day to day life is like by doing this, and it almost acted as revision for his upcoming exam.

“What can I get you today?”

Embarrassment flushed over the dark haired boy’s face, and he automatically sent another tight lipped smile to try and compensate for his forgetfulness. A strand of his soft black curls fell over his eyes, and James could tell just by his body language and the look in his eyes that it annoyed him to no end. “A black coffee, please.”

That was fitting, James thought. With the tidy (almost obnoxiously so) outfit and the carefully styled short black hair, a black coffee was the only thing that really made sense for him.

“And can I have a name for that?”

Stupid boy, you know his name.

“Regulus.”

James knew how to spell it.

He knew how to spell it and he hated that. Regulus was his best friend’s brother, and things between Sirius and his younger brother were rough. They got along until they didn’t. Sirius had spent more evenings than James could count frantically ranting about him on evenings at James’ house after school. When Sirius had left for high school, Regulus had distanced himself from Sirius more than he ever had before. Regulus had always been detatched, and James knew this from Sirius’ extensive complaints.

James he knew he shouldn’t have been so enamoured with Regulus in his high school years as he was, but when James fell for someone he fell for them. He fell for them intensly and irreversably and everyone he had ever loved lived in his heart for eternity. It may seem like James was feeling too insensely, but for him to not love so deeply and fully would mean he was not James Potter. He could not be in any sort of relationship without loving them to the end of the earth. His mother had always told him to cherish this, that his way of loving was incredibly pure and a love that many people would give anything to be the recipient of. But based off his past relationships, his love was not something to be cherished.

“Alright, I’ll have that ready for you soon.”

While he was making the coffee, James allowed himself to watch Regulus, noticing the way his hair was slightly more inclined to falling to the right side of his forehead, the way his greyish-blue eyes fixed on one spot of the wall and didn’t seem to move. He watched as his hands anxiously clasped together in his lap and his foot tapped.

James was a master of the art of noticing, and he tended to read into what people did, more so than was probably helpful. But James had always been observant, even as a toddler he had had an integral interest in people. He understood when people said that the human race was done for, but he was compelled to disagree. He had a sense of optimism that many thought was overbearing, but in the same way, James sometimes found their pessimism slightly disheartening.

Regulus intrigued him, although the boy was made of very few words and made him fiddle with his hands behind the counter and cause his eyes to flutter around the room to look anywhere other than his eyes. Regulus was pretty. He was the definition of pretty, with his wavy black hair and his grey eyes that shone with something James couldn’t quite place. James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. Unsure of what this was, he played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t figure out. It was undeniable that Regulus made James shy, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. This was merely a customer that would show up to the coffee shop once and never again—after all, he hadn’t seen Regulus in the shop at all earlier in the year.

For a reason James couldn’t quite place, there was a hint of awkwardness between him and Regulus. They respected each other, sure, but when they were alone, without Sirius or Remus, James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. He played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t quite place. It was undeniable that Regulus made James nervous, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. Regulus didn’t speak much, and James tried but failed to match this. The silence felt awkward, and he couldn’t go for long sitting in silence with him until he overshared, making the situation more awkward than it had been beforehand.

“Long black for Regulus?”

He says his name, although there is no one else in the shop to mistake the coffee as their own. But James likes the way his name sounds on his lips, as horrifically cheesy as that may sound.

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He’s off-limits and you know that.

Looking up, Regulus looked up and flashed a small, awkward smile, walking to the counter and reaching for the coffee. As his fingers wrapped around the cup, they brushed James’ fingers, and his grey eyes flickered up to meet James’ deep brown ones. “Thank you,” he looked away quickly and was out of the shop before James could even respond.

Okay, James thought, okay, this is okay. He just has to make it out of the shop and then I’ll never see him again.

But then Regulus stops halfway out of the door, sending James a wonky smile and a soft “I’ll see you around.” His eyes are twinkling with something unrecognisable, and once he leaves James allows himself to breathe and forces the dorky smile off his face as he swears under his breath.

Stupid, stupid boy.

[buckera]

why do you ride so hard for these problematic men? first ryan and his racist anti vax ass and now lou with his ableist trump supporting? you know you can like the characters they play without riding for these grown men right? lou wasn’t hacked. why would he delete that specific instagram post if he was? why would he like his most recent like if he was hacked? why wouldn’t he say he was? you guys just like making up excuses (even ones that make no sense) to give your favs a pass and it’s weird. just admit they are human and fallible and maybe not the best people and that’s okay. you don’t need to stan these men to enjoy their characters.

okay. i'm gonna try to be patient and assume that you're here in good faith, even though I know for a fact, that you're not.

I will also ignore the Ryan thing because what do you mean "first"? I haven't even been in the fandom when that whole thing went down, but I believe in calling out bad behaviour to help people learn to do better, otherwise what's the fucking point? moving on.

so first of all, do not tell me what I should say but especially do not tell me what I should say, when I already said it word for word here:

second of all, I do not ride hard for Lou, in fact I do not ride hard for any of them. what I care about is actors (and the crew and the showrunners cough cough) not being harassed and treated like crap for doing their jobs, which, let's be real fucking honest here, the fandom has a history with, especially when it comes to love interests — as Oliver himself has pointed it out.

do I know what happened? no. do I think there are a lot of suspicious beats around the incident? yes, very much so.

btw no one would even assume hacking, if certain people could just act right. just a few weeks ago, no one could've plausibly make the claim, now however... this is what bullying and harassing and making fake accounts and so on births, this is all on the fandom. if not for that shitty behaviour, this would be much more clean-cut.

if it was him; he deleted it immediately which tells me that he's at least aware of how it reflects on him, if not how and why posting something like that is not okay. we can't be responsible for other people's values, but can only hope for them to always try to do better. and that's just step one.

the thing is, if we as a fandom can collectively ignore other things that have been deleted by other cast members, then instead of making a spectacle out of this, we can all just hope that it's a beginning of a learning curve.

anyway. do not come into my inbox — on anonymous, no less — to try to police what I say on my own blog. I always choose my words very carefully and I never claimed to know exactly what happened and as a rule of thumb, I don't allow myself more than a certain amount of time a day to dwell on these type on things (that time for today is up with this ask, by the way), because I'm in the fandom for fun and when it's no longer fun, I just leave.

but it's my blog and I will post what I think and if you don't like that; no one is forcing you to see it. unfollow and block and have a nice day.