#stay safe and sane by blocking and moving on!

[isa-ghost]

Just woke up and have been told on anon in an ask that apparently my blog is being stalked (again) by parasocial weirdos because god forbid I interact with someone they don't like.

Like. They sent tons of screenshots of my blog to someone I know for a fact I have blocked level of stalking. Literally I only ever block and move on when I see blogs I don't like. Like a sane person and mature adult.

If yall see that blog anywhere please report them. And block them for your safety. I'm not the only blog they're stalking.

They're doing this to anyone who's posted Tubbo crit btw, even if the person is also a Tubbling. Which I am. I've never posted Tubbo hate, I don't hate Tubbo. Fuckin love that funky white boy. But this blog and their minions have a whole conspiracy theory going on apparently and they're after anyone who criticizes qTubbo.

Stay safe yall. This is why blocking and moving on is important.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 3:

A Dance with hope and hoplessness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: none

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1: A dance with tardiness

Chapter 2: The first lessons of beginnings

----

Dreams are the new normal now. It’s always a hit with me. Don’t dreams usually have some metaphor or secret meaning anyway? I guess not. Perhaps dreams are just the illusions of someone’s mind they would try to grasp or disassociate. I can understand, though; I don’t blame them for wanting a life that’s better than our own. I can give plenty of examples where my dreams would mean nonsense to others, whereas to some, they can have a deeper meaning. I use my dreams to write. Although my recent dreams have gained much more attention, they seem to happen in sequences. In the first dream, I danced trapped in a birdcage. Then, in the second dream, I managed to break the pattern. Now—in the third. I find myself standing in the middle of the gold plate, confused and scared. I was no longer dancing, so that’s a step, I guess. My arms crossed, touching my shoulders as I tried to understand where I was; my eyes scanned around me, trying to see if anything was different. But my surroundings were anything of the same: a beautiful scenic view of the sunny sky with clouds floating past. Though a calming view, it felt—off-putting. As if the day should turn to night, something should happen; I shouldn’t be here. The sound of nothing. The sound of silence. The sound of stillness. I was secure—safe. I was safe in my little world. No one could touch me; I was free of noise, sound, people, and the chatter of bustling intensities. No one looked at me. I could do whatever I wanted. I could scream and shout; I could yell and fuss; I could bellow out my voice to make me feel sane.

My lips perused into a smile. I started to move my right leg, turning it in, pointing my foot, and then my left followed suit. My arms were to the side, getting ready, and my front heel was aligned with my back foot's toes. My left arm was outstretched, and the other held above my head in the air, forming the fourth position of a croisee. As my fingers slightly bent, my knees did so in unison. My right arm lowered where my chest was bent somewhat parallel to my stomach. My left arm, still outstretched, moved to be in with my torso. I pushed my left foot, still pointing, up to my knee as my right stayed in position, pointing straight. I carried the momentum with my arms swinging in front of me. My leg was outstretched as I spun toward the front of the golden bird cage. At some point in my spin, my right leg bent slightly, then straight to keep going. In the flow of the movement, both legs returned to the ground as I kept my feet pointing, my arms moving into an outstretched position above me. My feet slightly crossed the other as I still spun, remaining straight, although, when I spun, I moved myself in a big circle. The more and more I did so, the more my legs eventually made their way back into the middle of the golden plate. As I entered the middle, I stepped back, taking a running stance. As I gained a little speed, I leapt, my arms reaching above me as my legs stretched in front and behind me. I arched my back as my arms, taking the form of wings, reached out behind me. I shut my eyes, flying in mid-air, feeling the freedom I craved to endure after all these years.

—I thought I could do it. I thought I could break free from the golden bars that weighed me down. My eyes opened, expressing a word I thought was long forgotten—.

Hope.

As I was in mid-air, I started to fall. My eyes closed, preparing for the worst. My body clashed against the golden bars, my head hitting the stiff metal rods blocking my path. My body fell with a heavy thud. I forgot dreams could emulate the sensation of pain; it seems more common than anything else. My legs landed first; then, it was my body. All falling at once onto the metal surface. Everything ached; my ribs and legs felt crushed. My head felt the agonising thud. I curled up in pain, looking like some animal on the verge of death. My breaths increased, my eyes squinted hard as I gritted my teeth, and my whole face cringed with affliction. My arms curled around my head as I felt my eyes welling up with tears flooding and shedding. I hated crying. It made me feel weak. The tears flowed from my plump cheeks, the whole sensation of my eyes becoming puffy, and the wet sensation coming down my nose made me want to tear off my entire face. A quietened, hitched sob escaped my lips, then a noise. In a fit, anger arose within me, and I screamed. I shouted. I bellowed. Cursing at the cage that trapped me.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!”.

I remember feeling the release of my emotions. The adrenaline was wearing off. I felt a wave of heaviness wash over me. I collapsed onto the ground once more, accepting my fate. Closing my eyes.

—I thought I could do it. I thought I could break free from the golden bars that weighed me down. My eyes opened, expressing a word I thought was long forgotten—.

Hopelessness.

“Mam.”

“Mam!”.

My eyes snapped back into reality. I looked toward the cashier, who didn’t seem too pleased with me going off with the fairies. “Huh, o-oh, so-rry” I avoided eye contact.  Hello reality, how have you been? I’ve been doing fine without you—can I return now?

“Will that be to go, mam?” I could hear her voice; I didn’t want to acknowledge her existence. I hated shopping. I want to go home. 

I reached inside the shopping trolley, as I my nose snorted due to the cold. “He-re, is pe-a can-p-p-pea-can”.

“Peacan soup?” she raised an eyebrow.  Her hand reached over touching the can as my head turned away. I burrowed my head deeper into the warmth of my cotton scarf. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts. I snorted once more, trying not to let the snot drizzle down my face and make it even more awkward than it already was. Her fingertips brushed slightly reaching mine. In response, my eyes widened as I retracted my hand quicker than someone would as if they had just touched a spider. I could feel her gaze lingering on me. Still looking away, not wanting to risk that whole debacle again, I quickly dumped my entire shopping on the checkout counter, allowing the thing to roll as she scanned each item. “Mam, this is canned tomato soup”, the cashier corrected. I felt the stupidity wash over me. I didn’t reply to her comment. I was in a rush to get the hell out of there to get home. I grabbed my purse and opened the slot with the cash inside, holding what I thought was the total amount. I was too tired to realise that I was five dollars short. Having enough of me already—the cashier looked down, raising an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I can’t accept this; the amount you gave me is too short. Unless you have the correct amount, I won’t be able to give you the items.” My eyes narrowed in confusion—wasn’t this—oh. I slapped my hand to my forehead harder than intended, gritting my teeth in frustration. “W-wai—I go—car an—d I, g-g-gra m-on-mo-ney”. 

My voice trailed quietly as I quickly hurried to the mall's main entrance. I raised the collar of my thick, black parker and adjusted my scarf, trying to hide my face. The parker was so oversized I might as well resemble an oversized polar bear. My gloved hands reached the door handle, swinging it open as I was suddenly hit by a strong gust of wind blowing snow inside. I looked back at the cashier from a distance; she was filing her nails, her blonde hair draped over her face. She seemed relatively younger than me, possibly in her teens or early twenties. Not wanting to waste any more time, I shielded the wind with my hand, blowing the cold air on my face. I slushed through the winter wonderland with all my might. Somehow, this felt less worse than dealing with that cashier. My left arm helped me move back and forth in motion as my right arm shielded the wind from my face. ‘slosh’, ‘Slosh’, ‘Slosh’, was all I heard. My shaky breath hadn’t managed to cause a great deal of noise, but it was evident. I could feel the whiplash sting the back of my nose and the snot run down. Just great. I thought. At least, If I end up sick, it’ll save me the pain of going anywhere.

I managed to slosh through the thick, powdery white, making it to my white car. If it weren’t for the lights, it would’ve blended in. Only then would I be stuck here, listening to the gossip about who divorced who and the scandalous boredom. I tried to meddle the gloves off my hand to no avail, leaving me to the last resort of biting it off with my teeth. I smiled triumphantly as the glove came off, only for the gust of wind to blow it out of my grasp. “Are you shitting me right now?” I watched the glove blow higher and higher as I tried to reach it in my grasp. At first, my body landed on the car as I tried to grab it, then on the roof and then on the snow below. As the wind taunted me by blowing my black glove somewhere other than me, I trailed further from the car. Then, running back to my car. This whole display made me feel like a cat trying to swat at a fly. Finally, with enough effort, I landed on the car bonnet, catching the glove on the windshield. Feeling like a half-witted feline in triumph for using the ye old primary method of just hitting the bug on the window. I shoved the glove in my pocket. My hands were shaking; I managed to fiddle with the most complex puzzle in my life; finding the correct key to get into my own car, the prize, the extra cash to pay for my groceries. As I managed to find the key to my car—and not my apartment—I slid it into the lock, my face washed with relief. I shoved my hands into the un-tidy glove box compartment with two envelopes. One was labelled ‘for rent’ and the other ‘for emergencies only’ with a three-second drawn smiley face at the end. I quickly opened the envelope labelled, emergencies only and grabbed the $10 I needed to get groceries. Sliding out, I shut the car door, locking it. I sloshed through the snow, walking fast, moving my arms back and forth as if I were going skiing.

As I returned to the grocery store, I pulled the scarf around my face to avoid being seen. The warm air helped calm the flush and whiplash from the cold outside. The snot that previously dripped down my face had been wiped with my sleeve. Trust me. I’m not usually this gross. But when I’m in a rush. It didn’t matter.

I could see the cashier. However, my ears perked up at their conversation.

“Amber, oh god, it’s been too long, girl”, another woman with highlighted hair leaned against the cashier’s counter who was serving me initially. “Yeah, it's been too long, too long—”.

I tuned out. They were speaking about, I don’t know, something about a hot dude; I didn’t care. However, my ears picked up what they mentioned next.

“I can’t wait to go home. Honestly, it’s been tiring; I had this one customer come up to me; I thought they were sketchy, to be honest,” she said in a high-mellow tone while chewing gum. “Oh, are you okay? I hope they didn’t ask for your number.”

“No, no, nothing like that; she was a young woman. I wouldn’t say she was like someone on drugs or anything,” Amber reassured the other cashier.

“She just didn’t seem right in the head, you know. Like, she couldn’t speak properly. I was worried she was going to ask me for weed or something.” Amber ran her fingers through her hair.

“Sounds like she was high”, the other cashier chuckled.

As I trailed to the cashier, my eyes softened, and my steps slowly stopped as I held the money in my hands. I know most people should be heroes and speak back, but sometimes, it’s better to let them have their chatter. Looking at the women, I took a deep breath, already having enough of a day. I walked over to the cashier, and the other pushed Amber’s shoulder, heading back to her register. As I didn’t look at the woman, she said, “Oh, you got the cash. Good for you.” I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. “It’s pretty cold out th—” I slammed the money on the counter, picked up the grocery bags, and headed out into the snowstorm. “Ah, rude, you know, normal people say ‘thank you’ Can you say that ‘Th-ank y-ou?” she mocked my speech pattern. I didn’t acknowledge her. I kept walking. At least in the snow, I heard nothing but the sound of wind. “Yeah, your ass better keep walking. rude cow.”

I stormed out of that grocery store with irritation beyond my imagination.

Her words can’t affect me.

 Her words can’t affect me.

I repeated to myself. I could feel the emotions building up, becoming heightened and overwhelming.

I am strong.

I am me.

I did nothing wrong.

I did nothing wrong.

She doesn’t know me.

—I want to open my mouth to scream and shout, wave my arms and flap about—

—I want to open my mouth to scream and shout, wave my arms and flap about—

From my mouth.

As I entered my car, I started the engine and began to drive out of the car parking lot. My lips opened, making noise to form some words. “You are y/n. y/n l/n. You are a talented writer. You have the world with you. Everyone cares about you.” I said to myself with precise precision. I started to calm down. “Just think of what Sarek. What would Sarek look like? What is his aim? What is his next plan for Aelwynn?” My mind went into a stir, a stir of brainstorming ideas that made me forget—for now—the incident that happened. As weird as this sounded, I started talking to myself, a method that helped me figure out plot lines and ideas calming me down. “Sarek is not a man of beauty, nor a man of triumph; he is a pirate of greed that will stop at nothing for treasure.”

“He has a full beard with the eyes of the devil; his toothy grin sends shivers down his crew’s spines. They all fear him for the reason of his ambition. He is a man of great power and great aspiration.”

“Though all fell apart when he—when he laid eyes upon her—Aelwynn, a fae queen whose beauty is far from this world. A being that changed his whole perception of reality.”

“Aelwynn was locked away in a deep, dark dungeon of despair waiting; she could not dance, nor feel the joy within her heart. Her tears turned to ice as they melted on the wooden boards. Her kingdom called to her. Her kingdom cried out for her return. The world—that lay beyond where no man can reach—was dying. The only thing she could do at that moment was sing. She sung of song of the ancient land of the fae. Her melody, her tune, her voice had entranced the crew above. As all dwelled to know of the siren’s tune, the enraged captain stormed down to the brig where the temptress had been held. Upon seeing her singing the song of her people, Sarek listened. He did not take a step closer. His hand took off his tricorne laced with feathers, holding it over his chest. The song she sang spoke to him. His eyes were opened for the first time. No longer did he see a creature. No longer did he see a bounty of treasure. He saw a scared girl.”

I sipped my coffee, happy with the result; I finally had the perfect result for Sarek—my fearsome pirate captain. My legs were curled up on the computer chair as I smiled like some giggling schoolgirl discovering fanfiction for the first time. I reached over to my paper with the character design sketches for Aelwynn and Sarek. I sketched Sarek to have a much darker tone to his expression: messy raven hair, a full beard with gritty yellow teeth and a weathered face that’s aged poorly. I didn’t envision a modern pirate. I envisioned a true pirate. One true to his features. I added a long, trimmed, black frock coat with a ruined grey waistcoat, then coloured the stockings further with the pencil in black. After that, I finally coloured the heeled shoes. I gleefully smiled. I only needed to trace the outline for his black tricorne, and then I was finished. As I started sketching a rough outline of the tricorne with feathers, I glanced over at the time. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore it was at only 10 minutes until—OH SHIT!

THE DANCE LESSONS!

I dropped the pencil, leaving the sketch near finished. I jumped from my seat, running into my bedroom in the most un-elegant way possible. I pulled my shirt off, lowering my pants in an entangled heap. I looked inside my un-neat wardrobe, trying to put on a long-sleeve shirt as I threw clothes everywhere to look for my tracksuit pants. Oh, right, they're in the dryer. Just when I forgot to put away the washing two days ago. I rushed to the dryer with only my long-sleeved white striped shirt, socks, and blue undies. I nearly slid across the tiled floor. I yanked open the dryer door, throwing more clothes on the floor. Eventually, I found my tracksuit pants. “Yes!” I whispered. I slipped on my tracksuit pants, not caring if someone saw me. By which no one did. Luckily.

I swear I never ran faster in my life. I chucked on a pair of sneakers that had already been tied from yesterday. I ran to the car, yanked open the door, closed it, pulled the seat belt over me and drove. “And I’m off, thank God. I better not hear another “You’re five minutes past the hour.” Having a lecture was the least I wanted today, especially from Mr Oreo. I was driving past the traffic lights as the buildings turned to blobs fading into the distance.

I pulled the car into the parking lot with the tightest turn in the world. Due to the snowstorm clouds covering the night sky, it was utterly dark. I pushed the car door open, trudging through the snow in sneakers and a long-sleeve top. Was it my mistake? Probably. Was it worth it? It certainly was to get there on time. I moved my arms back and forth as I did before at the grocery store.

How much do I want to bet that Sir Oreo will be looking down with a mug of coffee that reads ‘I told you so’, topped with a smug expression written all over his face.

I shuffled to the front door and opened it. I then scurried to the staircase, running up the flight of stairs until I reached the fourth floor. Let me tell you, me plus running plus stairs equals a terrible idea. I felt like I was running a marathon for the foundation of the morons. I took a deep breath “How in the heck are ballerinas this fit?” I muttered to myself. I trailed up slowly, taking a breath for rest. I could feel the sweat run down my face. I eventually made it to the fifth floor, where the lessons were held. I entered the room, but of course, he wasn’t there.

Nothing but the same old empty room, with mirrors, barres, and blue curtains stilled by the ginormous windows behind it. I bent over, my body trying to catch its breath. I thought about heading to the bathroom to quickly wipe all the sweat away and grab a drink of water. I had time, at least, I hoped. I walked outside in the small room beside the dance room. I had never seen this before, and I’ve been here twice now. It was smaller than my apartment bathroom, with a sink outside and a single cubical on the far left. I ripped the paper towels from the holder and wiped the sweat away. I bent over to the sink, drinking the water. It was refreshing. Satisfying. I wiped my mouth with the paper towel, chucking it in the bin. As I entered the dance room again, my face dropped with dread. My eyes flickered up to meet his. He did not look pleased with my current state.

“I presume you have not heeded my previous request; tell me, in your feeble mind, does my voice turn to foam each time I speak.” His voice spoke cooly as he stood haughtily, looking down at me. He wore the same trench coat as before with a different outfit that seemed expensive: something like a pressed black shirt with neat trousers and loafers.

I glanced down “I—sor—ry, I—late—r—an, her—e” was all I could mutter out.

“Is it really, that hard to be precise?” even if he should’ve sounded furious, he didn’t. It was hard to describe, but, imagine meeting someone who sounded so disinterested in everything that he couldn’t express emotion. He always sounded the same.

“I—“.

“Right, you have exactly five minutes to stretch, and if you so much as squander my time, then I will cancel the lesson, and you will go home. Do I make myself clear?”. I should’ve noted how abnormally tall he was, at least taller than me; I’ve been customarily commentated for my height, but—Mr Oreophorion was something else. His lips narrowed, then pursued into an expression of authority.

 “y-es” I said, simply because I was intimidated by his height and his stern expression.

My right leg reached behind me as I grabbed my foot, stretching my quad for thirty seconds and then switching to the other. I dangled my body over my legs; however, I couldn’t touch my feet. I wasn’t flexible, as I mentioned before—I get my own commentary brought to you by Mr. Oreo. “Flexibility will come with time. Each day, take some time out to work on it.”

I spent the last minute sitting down and facing forward with my legs spread out. I will be damned if I’m made to do the splits; no way.

I got off the ground and came into position, remembering the first position, which was the easiest. I held my arms before me, forming an oval shape, while my feet formed a ‘V’ shape. I waited for Mr Oreo to tell me the next move. “We will begin with the demi-plie, assuming you remembered—which you surely have not—Start by bending your knees and slowly lower your body to the ground as you’ll keep your heels flat on the floor. Then squeeze your muscles as you come up.”

“Begin, now”, he ordered sharply.

I started the demi-pile as ordered by Sir Captain Oreo. I bent my knees as instructed, remembering how it was done. The first few tries were something else, but after that, it became easier. Oh, look, I’m doing the thingy. I’m doing the thingy. I was pleased with myself in accomplishing this move. Oddly enough, I looked to the side to see Mr Oropherion staring at me—not directly at me exactly—but at my legs. Not in a creepy manner, sort of speak, but staring at my movement; he was observing my stance. His crystal-like irises followed my leg’s movements. I began to move into the next pile, a grand pile. I recalled his touch; I remembered the moves he taught me previously. At first, I bent slowly, then did so further in motion. What made this more problematic was that he did not indicate if I was doing this correctly; he never smiled nor showed any sign of irritation. I slowed to a stop, thinking he was satisfied with my result. His posture straightened once more “good.”

Good. Good! Was that all he had to say? I couldn’t even tell if I was doing the Plie correctly.

“y—yes—th—ank—y—ou” I tried to sound grateful to make him react.

“Now, we shall move on. The next move I shall teach you is simple. This is called a revele. Here.” He started to move over to my side. I looked away, feeling my face flush. However, he didn’t press his hands against my waist. My head gently turned. He wasn’t touching me, but, almost silently asking for my permission. My head turned back to the front, giving him the indication it was all right to guide me. He began to press his hands gently on my hips, moving his leg toward my inner. “Use your calve to pull your heel upward until you’re standing at the ball of your feet, then back into position”. He says, moving my foot in front of me. “Once you’ve mastered this move, you’ll want to enter into a demi-pointe; try not to go all the way; you’ll want to support your weight with the balls of your feet”.

I practised, allowing his leg to guide me the first few times. As our movements followed suit, his hands lifted from my waist, letting me go. As he watched me, he seemed satisfied with the outcome. Again, his reactions were hard to read, but he seemed content enough with my movements based on how he observed me. “Now,” he said firmly. “We shall begin combining the revere and the pile.”

“Begin to pile, then come straight up into the revele position”. He didn’t guide me this time but stood there, waiting.

My hand grasped the barre, as I entered the pile position. I bent my knees as my feet were still in a ‘v’ shape. Then coming up, I pointed my heel upward in front of me. I repeated the same movement until it became more natural for me. Once more, he observed me. I continued until I came back into the first position. Looking up, I waited for any sign of reaction to provide me with feedback. However, all he gave was a cold stare.

“Ho—w di—d ren—ee d—o” I said, trying to sound out my words.

“Well, well enough,” he said, with no hint of gratification in his voice.

“tha-t’s go—od”.

“That concludes our lesson for today; I suggest you take the time to rest and practice when you go home. I want to see you perfect it. I don’t wish to see it wasted.”

He approached me slowly, bending down to my eye level as his hands clasped behind his back, trying to see if I could still maintain eye contact. My eyes darted across, trying not to get too close.

“Remember, little bird, even if I train you to fly, you need to choose if you so wish to escape your little cage”.

I looked up, staring at his gaze. It’s true what they say: the eyes are the window to the soul. They are the most expressive, if not body language. I always wondered if he even expressed the slightest emotion, just a twinge. Upon first meeting him, he was so cold; he was made of ice. Compared to my own eyes, I was like water, always expressing my emotions through them. His eyes were—unnatural; was it even possible for them to be so clear? I gazed deeper, managing to see a figure within them.

 My own reflection. My own immure.

I wanted to reach up, raise my hand to beg, to spread my wings. To fly toward a place, where I was free.

With that, he swiftly turns and starts to leave with his hands still behind his back. “You were lucky I changed my mind; I expect you here exactly at the hour; if you so much as turn up behind-handed again, I will have you forfeit the chance of ever setting foot in this classroom again.” His voice turned even sterner and deeper than before; the light threat evident.

And with that, he left as he came, mysteriously. My body dropped dangling just above my knees. I can’t believe I had even managed to somewhat impress myself with those moves, let alone even beg to differ if I can do them again. I mean, as I said, I’m no ballerina; I’m not even trained in flexibility. You might as well put a frog in a tutu, and that would suffice more than I do.

Yet. You know what? Who cares.

I managed—me—y/n—to accomplish more than I thought. I took these classes. I’m speaking to someone. I managed to do a plie and revele at the same time. It may not be as magnificent as many would think, but, to me, it was a small step to something bigger. I slipped my feet into my joggers and walked through the door. I came to a halt just before exiting through the door. I took one last glance in the mirror. Taking in everything; my body, my image, my shape, my presence. Me.

My lips curled into a small smile—a genuine smile. I was genuinely proud of myself. I took a deep breath, stood tall, and smiled as I left the room with pride.

There was something that entered my train of thought, an emotion I truly needed.

—I could do it. I could break free from the golden bars that weighed me down. My eyes opened, expressing a word I knew that was no longer forgotten—.

Hope.

[sketchedboba]

Late but welcome to Ao3!! Yay! Heads up if you have not been reading on Ao3, it's very very easy to run into creeps since theres no about page or info so sometimes when you try to check out authors other stories cus you enjoyed what you read you find out the disgusting truth :,( just block and move on, luckily there's also a filtering option to make sure you don't run into those stuff but as someone who usually likes to know who writes that so I could keep a distance and block it sucks. Stay safe and sane!!

(Also kinda unrelated UGH people who write incest\pedo stuff on anonymous so I can't even block them or their series are a special type of evil like whhhyy, there's also a way to hide those stories but honestly it just takes more steps than just filtering)

I'm a bit late to responding, but yeah. I've only read two authors so far and haven't run into anything too crazy since I'm still moving stuff over.

I wish there was a guide to it though, since I'm a bit weary of commenters and other authors (I'm also spooked by tags and HOPE the ones I used aren't usually ones for anything weird. Fingers crossed.)

I haven't had any issues and it's cool seeing people's reaction to the story so far (was NOT expecting people to be invested but I'm excited)

R.I.P the people excited for a few things in those comments.

Thank you for considering my safety 💚

[cryptidanathema]

IMPORTANT PSA

In recent times, /pol/ has turned Sylveon into a hate symbol and frequently uses her in transphobic, fascist and bigoted memes. Read my tweet for more information: https://twitter.com/WatchingTheChan/status/1760290278890422780 I recommend you stay away from theese types of posts and Sylveon for now, because many nazis outside of Reddit and other sane sites use Sylveon as an "inside joke" to identify and communicate with eachother. They have recently started posting them on Tumblr to intentionally harrass us and harrass transgender communities, but on other sites without active Trans Sylveon communities, sharing Sylveon edits (especially ones with the colors changed or made slightly more pastel to reflect the Dutch flag) has became a common dogwhistle. Also, remember: they are trying very innovative tactics to sneak bigoted Sylveons into our posts (Watch out for "Stealthjaks" or other hidden nazi imagery in Sylveon images). One of theese tactics is to make fake "snitch" accounts and misinform people on where theese attacks are coming from, so remember theese bulletpoints: - The trolls coordinate on 4chan's /pol/ (and on a few discord servers I've infiltrated and are watching right now) -They're spreading their mostly recently created affection for "nazi Sylveon" (aka "based Sylveon, "chudded Sylveon", "YWNBAW Sylveon") to other sites out of malice. Watch out for theese posts and report them. - Don't underestimate their tech savvyness. They will try their best to dox you if you present yourself as a great enough threat to them That is all, please share this to everyone you can. If you see theese Sylveon hate posts, report them, tell others about the bait, and move on. Stay safe out there! (please share this around I've been trying to warn people and raise awareness on my own for so long and honestly i'm so tired)

I was admittedly skeptical but I checked the Sylveon tag and there is indeed a raid going on 🙃 These people would better serve the world as fertilizer. Remember that the harmless things that give you comfort would never hate you, block and move on.

[scratchandplaster]

Dulosis

CW: sleep deprivation, white/noise torture, creepy/intimate Whumper, defiant Whumpee, hallucinations

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The room was as barren as it was functional, two square meters of locked space. They called it a white room, but the walls were padded with dusty-gray foam, which he already tried to pick apart. In no way did the tapered spikes budge.

Not that this changed anything, the noise was still kept inside. It came once every half hour, he counted, a deafening sough in close intervals, at least one minute in length.

Counting was the only thing he was able to busy himself with, though, so he didn't mind when they decided to change the frequency up to put the ungrateful guest on edge.

On the third day, he ripped a button from his cardigan, throwing and blindly fumbling for it. Another game, another way to keep the last sliver of his mind in place. He remembered vaguely seeing this trick in a documentary about Alcatraz, a little how-to experience about keeping sane in solitary confinement.

The issue wasn't the silence or the solitude; he preferred that to being kept downstairs and playing house with a person he barely knew. That fucking psycho snapped, he had thought when they shoved him in here, food or water missing since day one.

No, it was the noise.

The chaos that dug itself deep into his brain's fissures, keeping his mind alert and body awake even after what felt like eternity. 

The ants came after the fourteenth alarm, he counted that too, crawling through the barely visible slit that was separating him from freedom. A few at the start, but where they came from others waited for an equal opportunity, and soon the floor was sprinkled with them, too large to number. On his skin, his lashes, pushing his lips apart to engulf every pore with the prickly tap of their countless feet.

And then they were gone again, nothing but foam and noise for a while. They would return, no doubt, and with that knowledge he started to get thankful for the scheduled terror, just barely. Scratching at the back of his senses, the thirst that dried his body up from the inside had become just a minor problem.

At one point he could hear his own intestines working; pumping, contracting and rhythmically meandering to the sound that just so snapped him back to reality.

Again.

And then again, never a warning beforehand. Did that happen in the documentary too? He couldn't tell anymore; didn't know anything. Mind so fuzzy, he nearly caught himself wishing for that freak to come back and open the door, turn off the sounds, anything to let him rest.

Now, after cowering on the ground with both hands pressed tightly against his ears, so nothing would crawl inside, there came a new fuss. A single light click, then another as the heavy steel door moved outwards and his captor's silhouette blocked the entry. The sudden brightness left him nearly blinded, another misery piling on top.

"Hello there, I nearly forgot about you."

The friendly chuckle they let rain down on him felt like poison. But they lied through their teeth, spending every quiet minute they stole from their captive to plan the inevitable outcome, success now prickling right on their fingertips.

The cowering mess at their feet let out a weak hack, voice sore from misuse: "Let me rest."

Bloodshot eyes met an unmoving stare. There was no room to negotiate.

"Ask nicely, sweetheart," the shape offered instead.

"You fucking-"

Without another word, they turned on the spot, ready to leave him stewing in his own misery. Maybe five days weren't enough, they could wait.

The room was practically filled with his stare that clung to their back, heart thrumming so heavy in his chest it felt like it would burst out any second. Not willing to give up the last sliver of freedom he had kept safe so carefully, but too weak and confused to do anything about it, the words just slipped from his lips.

"Nonono wait, I'm sorry. Stay. Stay!"

He wanted them to keep talking, to hear anything else than that ingrain blare, the thrumming of his heart, the legs crawling along...

Behind the veil of quickly forming tears, he could see his captor halt and turn. More? Did they want more of this? Living the lie with them, just as a short break, maybe. A workaround. Get strength back and try again. If he made it that far... Just to rest for a bit.

"Please," the hurt voice pressed out, "I'm j-just so tired. I won't make you any more trouble."

"Again," the shadow replied, voice warm as the summer noon. They knew he was so much closer to what they imagined. The other sessions they had together were not as successful, but finally he seemed to let his guard slip. Almost there.

A lone sniff could be heard in the room, more closet than anything.

"Please. Can I please go to sleep, just for a bit?"

It was over for today. Other fights would come, ones he would win, or so he assured himself.

Fights he would give up again, his captor knew.

Nearly gone again, he was quickly brought back by the thin smile that crept across their face, victorious after all. They gave a single nod that made the sore loser fold into himself, eyes closed and face flat against the barren floor.

Maybe the light will stay on too. Oh, please stay on, it's safer that way...it's safe.

A warm palm gently placed itself on his matted hair, not touching but resting in a most innocent gesture.

"Not in here," they whispered, "Not after you're finally behaving, dear."

The hand slipped down further, and with it the reassuring touch. He was being pet, a part of him recognized. A small price in the end.

Hand placed in shaking hand, he was pulled up to face the victor of this little game.

"Come on. You will love it."

More carried than led down the hall, through blurry and burning vision, he could see doors beside them passing. They pulled him around the corner and through the wooden doorway onto a bed, ready and freshly made.

The heavy comforter atop the sheets seemed too pristine to hold his filthy body, but his captor didn't seem to mind one bit when they dragged him under the white heaven. Both would clean up tomorrow, the next step that was oh-so carefully prepared.

The shaken man shouldn't dare to forget how divine this felt, and if he did, their special room would still be vacant for another time.

As he was tucked in with peaceful humming right behind his ear, his mind sank into the comfort he had denied himself for such a long time. And for this moment, freedom traded in for peace, numbing sound for forced touch, he believed it was worth it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

[askmurderplier]

Silent Shadow

(CW: Dark tones, stalking, murder, torture, gore, death)

Atmosphere Music

It had been raining most of the day, so the air was cool and crisp, the faint echo of droplets from gutters and drains and the splash of water underfoot scattered around, accompanied with the dim orange glow of street lights that cast playful shadows in the alleyways and under vehicles, shadows that would dart from one dark corner to the next while a back was turned.  At this hour, most were asleep, tucked up safely in their homes, doors locked, blissfully unaware of what lurked beyond the walls of their safe spaces as they dreamt of things that never mattered or tossed and turned in anxiety educed fits of worry over trivial things. Things that never truly mattered in the grand scheme of things.  Few however, would still be awake. Those who refused to commit to a proper sleep schedule, those who worked late, or those who fought their personal demons into the early hours. Or... Those with a darker purpose. 

Sal Vertilago was one of those people walking through the dim lit street, headed home after a late shift at a gas station with the intention of face planting into bed and passing out until late afternoon. 3 blocks, from the gas station to his apartment, that’s all it would take and at this hour no one was around to worry about. He could just bury his eyes into his phone, occasionally look where he was going and be home in 15 minutes.  It wasn’t a great job, boring mostly, but it paid rent and after the divorce he could use all the money he could get right now to just stay off the streets.  Still, some ramen, a mattress with a sheet, a netflix subscription and an iphone could do wonders to keep someone afloat and moderately sane.  As Sal crossed the street from West Point Ave to Harris Drive, he picked his head up from his phone to look around. Nothing? He continued scrolling tiktok and went on his way. Some dorky video of a dog chasing a turtle, followed by some overly pretty girl dancing to a song, then some clip from Now You See Me 2, south park, another dog with a series of buttons it used to talk named Bunny, a funny clip of a guy acting arrogant and cocky and then falling flat on his face.  One after another lost to the infinite scroll of his For You Page. Too absorbed in pointless social media to notice the footsteps lurking behind. 

It wasn’t until Sal was reaching Argyle Street, with his apartment building in view, that he had the feeling of being watched. A quick turn on the heel to walk backwards, eyes looking around. No one there.. An empty street.  He frowned but kept going, digging keys from his pocket and slipping the phone away, door unlocked, heading inside the building, still that feeling but no one in sight. Not even a passing shadow. 

Sal gave a sigh and headed up 3 flights of stairs down to apartment number 308, unlocked his front door, gave one last look down the hall in paranoia, before closing the door behind him with a click of the lock and a slide of the chain.  An act of securing safety, an act of illogical irrational fear, an act likely unnecessary, but one that put him slightly at ease... For now. 

With a sigh, he returned to normality, shuffling through his apartment, kicking off shoes, tugging off his coat and haphazardly tossing them aside in lazy ambition to get to bed quickly. Each footstep crinkled over plastic as Sal made for the kitchen first, peeling the fridge door open to retrieve a carton of apple juice to drink from.  A handful of bologna slices deposited into his mouth before the fridge door was thumped shut with the use of his foot. Each step rustled as he made his way through to the bedroom, its door opening with a rustle and crackle as the draped covers moved. 

The door closed behind him and he sank face first into the covers and pillows of his cheap mattress, a welcome he’d needed a few hours ago and one that wrapped him with a warm embrace inviting sleep, warm and clinging, the skin of his cheek sticking to the covers of the pillow as it crinkled. The intake of breath harder as that cover was pulled to cover his mouth. 

His eyes opened, peering at the plastic that covered his bed, then around the room at the shine caught in the light from the window as it was cast across more plastic.  Bed, chairs, floors, walls, everything draped in clear covers.  Sal quickly leaned over to hit the switch on the bedside lamp, going wide eyed and a little panicked at the confusion that followed as he bared witness to his entire room being covered in the stuff. Additionally, the door he had clicked shut appeared to now be slightly ajar. 

“And here I was starting to wonder if you would notice at all...” 

The voice was dark, gravely, and unwelcome. It didn’t belong there. An intruder in his home. He immediately darted back, aiming for the gun he kept in the bedside table.  Gone.  “Looking for something?” The grave like voice purred over, its dark clad owner holding up the gun by its handle before it was dismantled, tossed aside and left useless. How long had this person been in his home? What did they want!? The horrible sense of danger, panic, a need to get the fuck out of there, quickly rose inside, but Sal’s legs didn’t move. Frozen in the moment. 

“Don’t try for the baseball bat in the closet either, I got rid of that too. Kitchen’s also empty and the fire escape is locked. Oh speaking of which. It’s really bad practice to keep a spare key where everyone can see it.” The figure slowly turned his head.  Dark haired, eyes hidden by thick black glasses that also shielded the sides, a black coat and red turtleneck, black gloves and a glint of silver in the hand. Grey pants and heeled boots that made little noise on the plastic. An art practiced over plenty of encounters.  “This can go one of two ways.... The easy way, where you sit back down, or... the hard way... where I make you.” 

The sickening smile on the intruders face had Sal want to challenge him, to get angry and defend himself. His mouth made motions of the words in his head, but his throat closed, vocals failed, the sound expunged from within.  He had little option, but he had one. Keys he’d left nearby where snatched up, shifted between each knuckle as if he were trying to be Wolverine from X-Men, and held aloft in defense.  The intruder chuckled.  “Terrible choice. you’ll break your fingers without doing much damage to me in return. Short and blunt, they won’t do much. Still, I commend the effort.”  The man took two almost silent steps forward across the plastic.  “I guess you also opted for number two. That’s quite alright... I like it when they struggle~” The horrible purr in his tone made the hairs on the back of Sal’s neck stand on end. 

In an act of desperation, he lunged for the door left ajar, only to be met in two strides, the door clicking shut. Sal quickly swung a fist, the intruder ducking out the way and his fist colliding with the wall instead.  “Now now, no need to get aggressive! If you wanted to dance you just had to ask!”  “Wh-what do you want! Get out of my house!” Sal’s voice finally came back enough to gave a shaky demand. The intruder just smiled.  “Well.. If you sit down like a good boy, maybe you’ll find out~” 

In the blink of an eye, Sal’s hands had been pinned behind him, his face and chest smushed against the door, one leg kicked aside, then the other to keep him off balance. His wrists twisted upwards, like that of a police hold, one designed to hurt the more you struggled, one designed to hurt with the slightest bit of pressure from the thumb, one designed to keep you from struggling. “Walk.”  A simple demand, one that was followed by that pressure of the thumb, a grunt of pain and Sal obeyed, moving away from the door back to the bed to sit down.  Met quickly with that glint of silver up close to his face.  “Now..... why don’t you and I... have a little fun~”  ‘You sick perverted bastard-”  “Perverted? Oh nonono! You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not here for that~”  “The fuck do you want then!? Money? I don’t have any!” Sal growled up at the intruder, fists curling with the urge to punch that smug look off his face.  “Oh don’t worry, that information was pretty clear when I swung by earlier. No no... I only want one thing that you own. That’s all”  “What?”  “Your life~” That grin broadened and it took a second for Sal to truly realize the danger he was in, but by the time he got the ability to move it was too late, the knife in the intruders hand had been brought up to his throat enough to force him back down into laying down.  “Now...... Where should we start?”

Sal felt the panic run through him again, why him? Why was it ALWAYS him that had to deal with crazies like this!? He just wanted to go to fucking sleep! “Why are you doing this? Why me?”  “Luck of the draw my friend! That and your own hubris. You left your spare key in a plant pot rather than under it. Not that I wouldn’t have checked for it under there as well anyway- Still.. Bit of a dumb place to leave it”  “Is this just to teach me a fuckin’ lesson? Okay I get it. Now get the fuck out!”  “Ahahaha-” The intruder smirked and leaned in closer, the scent of aftershave, faint but sweet, mixed with the haze of cigarette smoke and something metallic.  “I’m not here to teach you. I’m here to make you the example”  “Leave me alone” Sal grit his teeth, making to back away from how close the intruder was, but he just followed, still leaning over him. He could punch this asshole in the face but- that knife... it was too dangerously close and it was impossible to tell how short a fuse and how loose a trigger this man had. 

The intruder smirked, leaning in to trail the tip of the knife across Sal’s cheek, glancing over him in a perverse way, taking delight in what lay before him but it was nothing sexual, no the pleasure he took was what lay within.  Organs that could be extracted, rearranged, blood that could be used to create art, veins, ventricles, arteries, tendons, muscles... All of it viewed like the engine of a car. Parts that could be removed, replaced, reorganized.  “Why are you doing this!?” Sal blurted out, unable to back away any further than he had.  “.........” A good question, seemed the intruder took a moment to think on this.  He was asked this before, every time he did this. Why? Why DID he do this? Why was this the path he had chosen. Why them? Truth was, it was never about THEM. There was no pattern to his streak, it’s partially why they had a hard time finding him. He didn’t seek for a certain hair color, body type, race, gender, sexuality, or even voice. Not for eye color or attitude, job or connections.  No he picked and chose at careful random. Those who crossed his path, those who fell in line with the itch... yes... the itch.

“It’s an itch.” He started slowly, thoughtfully.  “One you can’t reach. Between the shoulder blades, no matter how much you reach back there it’s always at the tip of your fingers. Sure you could reach with a back scratcher, a wall, get someone else to get it... but it never really truly satiates unless its under your own nails.  It a curl in the gut, a tingle at the fingertips, a twitch in the heartbeat.... I get the itch and the only way to scratch it...” He spoke with flourished gestures, moving to stand up straight, peering over his weapon of choice like it were a fine art tool.  “Is with a knife” He smiled darkly, side glancing down at Sal who now knew the danger he was in to its fullest extent. The wavering tremor of fear creeper into his voice.  “Wh-wh-what are y-you gonna do to me?”  “That’s a very...very.. good question... Why don’t we start with seeing what you have to offer” That horrible smile broadened and before Sal could move away the knife came down, cold and sank into him with ease, its pain only coming forth a few moments later as it was slowly dragged downward.  “No- NONONONO!! NO STOP! PLEASE!” 

The intruder took a deep sigh, relishing in the pleas, but it was too late now.. He’d only just begun and he wasn’t about to stop before he’d even started. “It never gets easier... Every one more challenging than the last, more gruesome, more bitter, more messy. But so much more Fun~” Red eyes locked onto Sal’s over the top of those glasses, a look of predatorial hunger, delight, mischievous and terrifying. They bore straight through him and the only thing he could think of now, was what would wait him beyond the veil. 

The next 2 hours were filled with his weakening screams of pathetic misery and torment as his intruder took things that didn’t belong outside of Sal. Playing with him like some twisted game of Surgeon Simulator.  By the time his intruder was done with him and had carved a line across his throat with that horrible steel, his vision was blurred, darkened, weak.  He had enough time to witness the silhouette of his attacker shift through the room and dip beneath the plastic covers of the room to the window, then disappear out of sight. He’d said something, but it was lost to the blur and haze of death creeping in around the corners all around him. 

A flash of red and blue.  A yell of his name. Could he heard them? Yes... but with no energy to speak up.  A glare of white lights and fast motion.  Greens and blues in clothing.  And red... so .. so much red...  He reached a hand up... but only saw the blurry outline of red coated fingers before it slumped back down, darkness seeped into his vision and his entire world went numb...dark... empty... gone. 

Silvery light passed over trails of smoke as they drifted into the air from his mouth. A terrible habit, but one given to him at an early age and one he hadn’t figured out how to kick, not that it mattered. For him, it only fueled a darker purpose, an alibi.  As red and blue lights approached, he gave a simple turn of his head, then redirected his gaze to the water at the edge of the pier he’d settled upon.  Footsteps approached, and he was already prepared.  “To what do I owe the pleasure, officer?” The grave like voice was calm, temperate, swathed in false innocence.  “Been a bit of a situation up the street. You hear anythin’ out of the ordinary?”  “Nothing out of the usual for around here. Couple of squealing tires, an opossum falling out of a trash can, some domestic yelling” He took another draw of the cigarette.  “What kinda yellin’?” The officer stood with hands on hips, watching the mans body language.  “Usual shit. Some lady yelling about cheating on her with that bitch Stacy, threw something maybe a glass. Was over on Harris Drive a few hours ago. Somethin’ happen?” He glanced back over at the officer, smoke trailing from his mouth as he spoke.  “Aye. Been a murder, but not at Harris. What you doin’ out here?”  “Couldn’t sleep, on account of the bullshit n’ all. Came out for a smoke and some cold air.”  “Y’mind if I see some ID?”  “Sure” The man dipped into his coat, cigarette held between his lips, fishing out a wallet, with Id. False, of course. What partially sane man of his hobby choice would hand over a real one? Still, it was a good fake, one he’d worked hard to obtain, and one that would pass, as it had many times before.  “Where you live, sir?”  “West Point, number 12. Just me and the missus and the dog.” He felt the eyes rake over his coat, checking for dog hair. He’d been careful with this already. He liked dogs, often would find those passing on the street, let them jump on him. He’d usually keep the coat clean but the dog hair helped. The officers eyes caught the dog hair, it checked out.  “You hear anything besides the yelling?”  “No sir. Had my headphones on, only heard the yelling cos of a track change and took em off to listen. Just the usual folks though, been called on a few times as I’m sure you’re aware.” And they had, he’d paid attention to that. Small details worth a hundred.  “Alright. You hear anything else you give us a call, alright? and maybe get back inside... suspects still at large.”  “Of course officer, thank you. I’ll head back in right away” The man stood, finished his cigarete and stomped it out on the ground before picking up the butt. “Takin the butt with ya?” “I don’t like to litter, officer. Have a good night.” He tucked it away and headed off towards West Point Ave. He could feel the eyes watching, but he wasn’t about to leave evidence at his scene. No no... 

As he rounded the corner of West Point, he tucked into an alleyway between two buildings, pulled down its fire escape and headed upward, pulling the escape back up once there and carried on towards an open window, one he’d secured earlier that day. An empty apartment, but one he could dip away into, lay low for a moment and wait until all was clear before disappearing into the early morning. 

This was his hobby.. his line of work.. his life.  Jumping from one to the next... Taking terrible dark pleasure in the twisted game he played with the devil. Dodging cops, whisking evidence away, remaining completely unknown to them. Delving into new tricks, new alibis, new challenges.  But why? Why DID he do this?  They always asked him and he only ever had one singular answer.  There only ever was one answer... 

Why did he kill?  Well it was simple!

It was F̵̝̼͚̒̐͠u̸̻͎͆͝͝n̸͖̙̻͛͊̔

[ardienothesieno]

quietly raging while sitting on a crumbling leather couch. feeling sick. listening to hawaii part ii.

huge vent under cut

i just want to draw, man. i want you to leave me alone like i keep asking, i want privacy i want autonomy i dont want you looking over my shoulder policing my every move i can afford to fail a bit i just. i just want to be my own person to have hobbies to be able to talk to my friends to not be scared every time you walk by because you'll yell at me, force me into boxes and try to make my brain work in ways it doesnt know how to yet. you say you dont care about me being perfect but that you know *I* care so you care because I care but I keep trying to tell you I DONT care anymore. yeah being a perfect little person is *great* and everything but damn it theres too much shit that comes with it and im sick and tired of that shit and i keep trying to tell you that but you wont listen and every time I finally think you hear me that youre listening to what *I* want but then you do this again and you wonder why I dont trust you!! my god im not a kid anymore stop treating me like im about to shatter into a thousand pieces have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, I know myself better then you do now? that ive taken what ive learned from hiding myself in a mental box all my life and maybe, just maybe, hide in that box around you??? and every time. every time I think maybe I can come out of the box so I test the waters i peek my face out to see if it's safe but it never is and I have to go back. maybe I dont tell you everything anymore because why should I. you dont trust me so why should I trust you. maybe there's a reason I spend so much time hiding on the internet. maybe the people on here know me better then anyone out there has ever known me. what if I actually feel safe here what if it's the only place I feel like I can say the shit I want to because maybe people here care more then all of you out there, that maybe here people dont question me and try to fix everything for me and if I can't deal with a person well god damn it that's the whole reason there's a block button. I can't block people in real life. in real life there's maybe two people I would ever talk about this shit with and one if them i dont know well enough to feel comfortable with dumping this shit on them and the other has enough of their own crap going on i cant do that to her. but I feel like the people here are really actually my friends i feel like I can trust them i would kill for them theyre my FRIENDS. you seem to think that not knowing names or faces or every detail of someone's life invalidates any possibility of "friendship" but they understand me better then you do. better then anyone irl does. and yet you think that theyre not safe that im not safe because i call them friends THEYRE MY FUCKING FRIENDS. I feel safe here I don't feel safe out there with you trying to make me into something I'm not. here no one cares!! they either like me or don't like me or hate me but they don't EXPECT anything of me unless i tell them they can. unlike you. you expect something I can't both do and stay sane at the same time because "oh you've done it before you can do it now" THINGS HAVE CHANGED. I HAVE CHANGED.

stop fucking trying to make me into a perfect little human being. im not. im not perfect damn it LET ME BE AN IMPERFECT PERSON.

[hellhoundsins]

🥩 intro / warnings

20 - he/him - call me Mutt, Hound, Dog, etc. trans guy - dog - gay - sub

do not flirt with me, do not ask me for pictures, do not try to start anything with me. im taken and not interested.

This blog contains hard kinks. Stay safe and sane. Differentiate kink from real life. Block and move on.

I'm into...

cnc - hypno - monsters - somno - petplay - a lot of stuff im probably forgetting lol

I am not into...

scat - omo - feet - detrans

Do not interact if...

minor - "men dni" blog

[losthomunculus]

Online Safety Relevant to the Current State of the Internet

On twitter I made a tweet about how online safety lessons in school can be very out of touch but that the advice of people who are familiar with the current internet shouldn't be disregarded. So here's my informal collection of online safety tips

Sources: unrestricted internet access since elementary school (not recommended), being a formerly involuntarily home bound person for several years that amassed way too much online experience

This could possibly hold upsetting reminders to people who had bad experiences online including mentions of grooming and emotional manipulation so please proceed with caution!

Information Sharing

Make an online pseudonym for public profiles and websites.

Don’t feel like you have to list everything about you for the world to see.

Sometimes it’s not a question of “can this information be used to locate and identify me irl?”, but simply “do I want this information publicly available and linked to my online persona?”

Unlike offline, being online leaves a constant trail of who you were accessible at all times. People are constantly growing and changing. Try to limit the information you share so you can ditch that trail and start over if need be.

Sharing information with people you make friends with and trust is a judgement call on your part, but always be on the safe side and be protective of your information.

Start as cautious as possible with online safety. Any risks or judgement calls can come later when you are 1. aware of the risks, 2. ready to address them if they occur, and 3. have gathered plenty of information instead of doing something blindly and hoping for the best.

Do not share your triggers publicly, they can very easily be used against you. Instead use websites with a large amount of filtering options to curate your online experience. If you are going to share them, only do it privately with people you trust.

Importance of Boundaries

It doesn’t matter how mature you are, don’t enter age limited spaces you don’t qualify for. It’s disrespectful to the boundaries of the people who made that space. Boundaries like this exist for the comfort of both sides involved.

Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Desensitization is not something to brag about.

Venting or making r18 posts as a minor on a public account is VERY dangerous. Intense emotional vulnerability is something manipulators will look for as a way to get to you. The same with sexual jokes to develop your comfort talking about those topics casually and eventually escalating the situation. If you are going to talk about such things please keep that in private conversations with people you trust in your age group.

Note the difference between public and private online space. Tweeting something on a public account is not the same as having a conversation in the cafeteria with your friends.

If an adult tries talking to you about r18, run the other way. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, it says something weird about THEM if they’re willing to talk to a minor about that stuff.

If someone( like 3+ years, honestly depends on how old you are) older than you wouldn't be comfortable saying what they're saying to you in front of other people (like a teacher or guardian), that's suspicious as hell. Run in the other direction.

The younger you are, the more age gaps matter. There's a bigger difference in development between a 13 year old and a 17 year old than there is between a 20 year old and a 24 year old. It helps to try to contextualize it with real people instead of numbers. Instead of thinking "oh just 4 years? that's not that weird" consider "oh. that would be like a freshman (13/14) dating a senior (17/18). yikes."

Be just as wary of people your own age talking about things that make you uncomfortable. Just like irl, sometimes you’ll meet people your age that are hurtful.

Friends complain to each other and talk about their issues, that alone is fine. But when people are doing it without permission, draw a line. When people are making it feel like you’re responsible for maintaining their mental health, you need to draw a line. When it starts to effect your mental health, PLEASE DRAW A LINE! I know it feels like your responsibility sometimes, but it’s not. You cannot be there for others if you’re not taking care of yourself first and foremost.

Don’t be afraid to block people. Even for petty reasons. It’s good to block people. Don’t force yourself to see stuff you don’t want to see.

Being Constantly Online

The 24 hour news cycle is not a good thing to follow 24/7. Taking social responsibility is a good thing, but your brain is NOT built to worry about every issue in the world at once. One strategy I use for staying sane is I try to only check the news once a day, and if something needs more attention to set aside an amount of time I’m going to focus on it before I need to take time to step back.

Touch grass. Not literally, unless you can in which case I highly suggest it, sometimes it’s just good to lay in a field. What I mean is you need to dedicate a good portion of your time to being offline (sleep does not count). What your offline time looks like is going to differ depending on your level of ability, but even if you are house bound it’s important to build some hobbies that don’t rely on the internet. Talking to people offline is also a good goal if possible, even just to your housemates.

Social etiquette greatly differs online and offline and sometimes the reminder that were all just Some People gets lost behind the numbers and the fabricated personas. Keep in mind the difference in how information is shared without forgetting that the fact we are all people remains the same.

Be generous with your etiquette. You will avoid a lot of stress if you conduct yourself with the same politeness you would have in an offline interaction. Master the art of "minding your own business" for your own sake.

Arguments and Competition

As soon as you can, you need to internalize the fact that leaving an argument is not losing.

It is inevitable you will be exposed to many people who disagree with you. Some people only want to argue to rile you up. Sometimes that’s not their intention, but it’s what they’re doing. You do not have to remain in conversation with people, especially if they’re not interested in actually coming to an understanding. Even if they are interested, sometimes they just suck!! Leave!! You can leave!!

On that note, sometimes you are going to get valid criticism and it’s going to hurt. That is part of learning. If someone says you messed up and did something hurtful, take a second to step back from your defensiveness and consider: intent ≠ effect. Apologize, repair what you can, and move forward with the ability to do better in the future. You’re going to mess up every once in awhile, it’s inevitable.

To summarize the past two points: don't waste your time on unnecessary hostility but don't close yourself into an echo chamber either. Debates should be about learning.

Sometimes people are not going to like you. This happens offline too but people tend to be a lot more blunt online. Sometimes people dislike you for no reason or for really petty reasons. That’s not your problem, move on.

Don’t actively seek out people you don’t like or who don’t like you to argue with. Whether or not your side is the “right side” doesn’t matter, it’s going to cause you so much unnecessary stress. Feel free to keep posting your opinions on your own profile but don’t seek out unnecessary conflict.

This is a different type of competition than previously mentioned, but be aware of the danger of comparing yourself to other people. Especially if you’re a creative or student, DO NOT GET SWEPT UP IN THE GRIND CULTURE. It’s more subtle in some places than others, but anytime you see the notion that you should be working yourself to the bone be VERY critical. Also be critical of any online cultures (such as gaming and art communities) that brag about unhealthy habits or act like it’s ~part of the culture~ (ex: all nighters, not taking breaks, getting hurt. Any activity that neglects health to work toward a goal).

Not just grind culture, any community of subculture that shares anti recovery sentiments is a huge red flag. Even if they're joking, it's not worth the risk of internalizing those statements.

Everyone’s social media presence is to some degree doctored because it’s a purposefully selected collection of what they allow you to see. It’s fine to like the persona you see being displayed, but never forget that it is not reflective of the entire person. Everyone online is JUST SOME PERSON. Do not forget that and start holding yourself to a standard you can’t even see every side of.

By posting online you are opening yourself to criticism. Whether or not it’s justified can vary, but either way it’s going to happen. Mute stuff, go private, disable comments, etc if you need to.

Misc Tidbits

these are technically just general info that is also good for offline but I have seen things that make me think people online need the extra reminder.

Learn what cults are, how they recruit, and what they do to their members. I'm not kidding. This is particularly relevant at the moment because of current societal unrest and widespread loneliness. No one is immune to cult propaganda, and not every cult is based on pre established religion or family. Many exist ONLINE and are able to manipulate people without ever meeting face to face. (learn more: Loneliness as a Pandemic: The Dangers of Online Cult

Familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience. Please familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience and then learn how to identify pseudoscience. (learn more: Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8)

Q. How do I know if a source is reliable?

Final Thoughts

It's important people of ALL ages learn these lessons, because the internet is constantly changing and we are all vulnerable when in the presence of other people.

Be cautious and stay safe

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI (PART2)

Word Count: 17k.

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Y/N's much tolerable when less grumpy then more kissable, more loveable and cuddleable and Harry wants to be more than just fuck buddies that he ends up giving Y/N a tooth ache.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff, smut and domestic love.

MASTERLIST | REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN | PART 1

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

Harry’s lips quirks up into a loopish smile at that and he hoists his knee up and above, sinking his palms into her soft mattress besides her temple and blocks the mellow sunshine that peeks through her lace curtains. Her heart squeezes out of her rib-bones and turns gooey somewhere within her insides as her lungs fill with his minty and warm ardour and if she'd be not this flushed and throbbing between her sticky thighs she'd have cracked a dentist joke.

“Y’want me to lick y'cookie f'ye?” He gives her a bunny grin and his fingertips tickles her shoulder; milky skin twinkling at him from the neckline of her shirt that’s barely sitting there and she pouts raising her hands to smack his chest, but he grabs them and tugs her forward, tutting sternly, “I want an answer.” His foresty pupils darkens around rims and her throat turns scratchy. So, she bobs her head up and down eagerly, feeling the metal around his fingers smouldering into her wrist and the thought of it on her clit makes her mewl.

It dings his adam apple sexily and his eyes turn soft and cheeks rosy, Harry doesn’t know what she likes or not so he’s gonna start tentative and careful and gradually ease her into taking big things after, letting her drip onto sheets for hours if she’d like him edging and teasing her.

She watches him with doe-innocent eyes and Harry almost ruts his hips against the mattress from the way his cock twitches weepily -- sensitive against the fabric of his joggers.

He keeps their intense eye contact while sliding back down between her legs and cares his calloused warm palms under the back of her cushiony fleshy thighs and bends her knees up, his eyes flicker towards her tummy that exposes to him when she stretches out gracefully in reaction to his tingling touch.

Making sure she’s alright, his nimble taps her ankle and when she breathes out a whiny “yes.”,

He gropes the insides of her thighs and spreads them apart and presses them down letting her make puny noises when the cool air teases her folds, she smells so good for him, “Already such a puddle, Muffy. G'na gimme a sugar rush from ye'sweetness.” He darts his pink tongue out to moisturize his petal lip and his grunt pleased and heavy upon seeing her gush more arousal just from listening him talk.

He spreads her swollen pussylips apart with his middle and pointer finger and her chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth apart around a gasp when he glints a smirk towards her all while poking his tongue out and flattening it against her clenching entrance and licks her juices up.

“Does it feel good?” He hums nonchalantly nosing at her little button and paints his lips with her wetness. She stays a bit stiff. Not making any move and staying put in her position. Harry takes her clit between his teeth when she whimpers out and her body turns taut, her hands balling at her sides.

“Y've t’use y’words with me, moppet. It works two ways, always.” His hands reaches blindly for her wrists and he puts them over his poof of hair but it remains fisted and he rubs his big hands up and down where her thighs meets her sweet cunt, “Try t’ relax. Can y'do that fo'me, pet?”

His brows pinches together into a frown. His glistening lips from her turning into a grumpy pout when she doesn’t respond — was he unable to make her feel hot and excited? she should tell him if she didn’t like it.

“Y/N ...” He raises his head slowly from between her thighs and his jaw goes slack, his eyes bursting wide seeing her holding her breath and hiding her face underneath her forearm, “Shit. Shit. Y/N!” He’s quickly crawling towards her and sliding his hand under her back, brings her to his chest with his fingers wrapped around the nook of her elbow.

“Breathe, Sweetheart. ‘s okay.” Is this what she was talking about? Is this why she has specific days for touching herself? Poor bambi. He massages her back with tender circles and sighs in relief when he feels her chest calming down back to normal.

“Y/N ...” He pushes her away from shoulders to look down at her sternly and takes her hair into his grasp and slinks them to side, “What’s happenin’ with ye'muffy?” He gives her a downturn of lips and quirk of brow indicating her that there isn’t any escape for this time.

For fuck’s sake! He’s her bestfriend. He should know atleast that she’s alright!

He gauges for her eyes when she presses her palms into his knees and lifts her bum a tad from the sheets, shy embarrassment turning the tips of her ears pink, manipulating her toffee lip in her mouth and Harry pushes back the hair that are falling in her eyes.

She’s feeling hell load giddy and humiliated to tell him this.

Harry startles back, blinking rapidly when she squeaks out in one breath, “’M scared to hurt you!” He pulls her forward with his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and frowns.

His touch with her tender and un-conceit, when usually he’s a domineering in bed and riles them enough for them to beg and moan pathetically for him.

“What? Scared ---.. hurt?” He tries to piece what she said together but it doesn’t make any sense. So, he guesses that he'd have to pry some more from her, “What're ye' talkin' bout muffy?” He sighs noticing the way she clenches the hem of her shirt and mumbles something but Harry’s giving her a piercing glare and it makes her ramble anxiously.

His hand affixed at her skimmed from under her shirt and his thumb keeps on circling her hip-bone.

“’M afraid that I’ll get all horny ‘n loose all my senses and be all rough with you, ending up hurtin'y and I’ll be too engulfed in pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me ....” She fiddles her fingers vigorously in Harry’s hand and he's cutting her with a tut, “That’s the point silly girl.” He chuckles amused at her and she shakes her head whining up at him with a surly expression. The corners of her eyes pinkish and watery from forcing herself to feel the pleasure Harry’s tongue was devoting her.

“But, Harry ‘m not some insatiable monster!!” His heart thuds at the concerned worrisome look on her angelic features and he’s cupping her cheeks, he curses out internally to whoever told her this and his lip grouches up, “You’re not some insatiable monster. Who the fuck fed you this bullshit?” He scolds her and it makes her fleet her gaze away from him.

“You’re not —-... what the fuck, Y/N. Tell me their name so I could break their jaw.” He gasps in shock and he spits in venom. Knuckling at her chin to prop it high infront of him and doesn’t break the cogent eye contact -– his eyes full of hatred and loath for the person.

That damn person who made his Bambi, so insecure and conscious and self-degrading about herself.

“The guy –,” She stutters. He gives her an encouraging hum and she plays with his rings, she knows that he’ll never make fun of her about it and mighty be understanding.

He has always been.

But sometimes he laughs at the worst moments. Not his fault. She has adopted that habit too from living with him.

Right now though. He looks very serious and furious, it creeps heat up her throat.

“The guy I lost my virginity to. He said – he ... umm said that I hurt him when I flipped him underneath me and was being selfish asking him to you know ...?” She mumbles, uncertain if she’s putting it out right and Harry runs his fingers through his curls gripping at the roots and groans in annoyance, properly vexed.

“Firstly muffy. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s a term made by egoistic men like that prick of a guy, secondly did he make you cum?” His voice tones down gentle and caring. He lays her down and settles her head on the pillow and she's still fisting his shirt in her hands.

He grimaces when she shakes her head, her eyes owlish and glossy pointing down, “Everything was so dry that I wasn’t able to enjoy it ...” She winces remembering it and Harry cradles her face cooing delicately, “Oh Bambi. It was, ‘cos ye' weren’t aroused enough.” But, she’s now. With Harry ontop of her and being all warm and lovey and handling her as if she’s fine china, she could feel gooey wetness sticked to her thighs.

For first time in her life. She feels relaxed and light headed talking about it.

So, she continues, “ .. and it was bit disgusting, he came all over my tummy ‘cos he didn’t have a condom.” At this he grumps, his nostrils flares and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep him sane, “What a cheap bastard!” She giggles at his outrage and he just gives a fluttery smile to her shaking his curls.

He pets the sheen on her cheek away and gazes her sincerely, “You shouldn’t trust everyone and anyone, pet. ‘S a cruel world out there.” The fact that if he’d have came inside her boils Harry’s blood -- she'd have gotten the worst thing happen to her.

He just feels so protective of her. If he’d be able to keep her safe under his shield to scare away bastards like that guy he gladly will.

“Now, hear me Bambi eyed. We never have unprotected sex with strangers and never let ‘em make y’feel bad fo' wantin’ t’be pleasured .. if two people consent fo' it then both ‘ve to fulfil eachother’s desire. Am I clear?” His tone gruff and firm. She suckles her lower lip inside her mouth and nods quickly.

Something about him commanding and lecturing her making a fire fuse in the pit of her tummy and it makes her salivate down a whimper, which sure didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s side and his lips are quirking into vivacious grin.

He’s retreating back between her legs keeping a cautious gaze on her as if she’s a prey and one move will wither her away, “’N fo’ being rough. I like it rough. Y'could d'all of that with me without being embarrassed.” His smirk dripping with wickedness and Y/N’s head jerks back at the thought of him seeing forward to do more of this with her.

His palm lays sturdy and pressed to her belly, his puckering lips against the inside of her thigh parts around a silent groan when he feels her belly quiver.

He embeds slobbery kisses to where she’s clenched impatiently for him and he pushes his fingers against her clit and slides them up and down between her puffy folds, love creating soppy filthy noises and gives a kitten lap to her then attaches his lip to her smudgy hole murmuring against her breathily to make her feel the electricity till her core.

“Will love havin' ye'tiny fingers pullin' at me hair with a swimy brain. Buckin'y hips into my mouth begging me to ruin yer cunt with my tongue and ‘ave me dancin' on y'palm, extractin’ out glutinous grunty moans within me chest -- it’ll not be just moans, no! —- a viscous toe curlin' sound that’d rumble savagely in my throat a warning fo’ you to keep these gorgeous thighs open fo' me to eat you out as I wish and my large hands will belt ‘round y'waist digging my nails into your dimples when you'll scratch my back ‘n it’ll leave angry marks behind — a reminder fo’ you how much I fuckin' loved you being horny as the deepest burnin' of hells.” She’s panting and sobbing for a cusp of breath manoeuvring her fingers in the tufts of his silky mess of curls and tugs at it and shoves her cunt, grinding against his chin. The softness of his cheeks glittering her bones and she’s falling wider apart from him, and he grins.

Noses at her throbbing clit and sucks it in her mouth and massages her pussy with her own lubrication and how much he picks it on his tongue she’s ready to give him more and he’s moaning with fierce ruby lips wrapping around her fluttering pussy folds, moving his mouth every where and it elicits a choppy whine from her.

“Fuck. Look at'y ... s'innocent but such a dirty little girl fo' me.” He dips his fingers merely into her and swipes up a cardinal push against her spongey wall and treats it back.

It’s too much for, Y/N. Everything. His wanton words better than those audios, his warm tongue on her and the strength of his arms holding her down, his flushed out cheeks and the teasing and teetering he's doing to give her an orgasm that sprays cosmic stars into her fogginess and she doesn’t even know that cloy moans of, “yes.yes.yes.” are dripping from her and he’s boring his face back into her when he latches away from her sweet pussy with the help of his elbow.

“I want you to say it.” There’s pause in the string of her racing heart and her brows hitches in confusion, though he doesn’t give her enough time and moves her pussylips apart letting his nails graze at them gently.

She’s squealing in surprise and jolting up with exhilarating sensation when he spits at her and watches it trickle down her bum, thick and honeyed with lust-fond eyes.

She’s erupting into startled moans when he grunts spitting again and makes her little cunt the messiest thing, “Say it. Say that yer dirty little —-,” She cuts him with a sharp and whiny yawp and plunges her nails into his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“I’m a dirty little girl, f'you. Just you. Just you. Just you ....” Her voice tones down into coy whispers stuffed to the pillow as her body anchors stintingly from her bed and Harry’s hand slides from her torso down her ass and gropes at it keeping her coupled to his mouth as she coats his chin and his lips and his cheeks with her cum and his own spit and he’s murmuring grittily, “Yeah moppet. Mhmp. Come in me mouth. Fill it all, such a good girl.” He nips and tucks at her making her satiate through her high and places a kiss to her clit for the last time when she thrashes from sensitiveness before moving away.

“Sensitive lil thing ye'r.” He murmurs rubbing her thighs to coax her down and feels goosebumps prick on her skin, glances up and finds her a beautiful colour of pink and peach and her hair nested as a halo on the pillow.

She’s just so beautiful in many ways, it aches his heart.

He’s flopping to her side and poking her cheek earning a tick of ravenous smile and he watches as her irises moves under her closed lids.

“That was ... hmm.” She hums sluggishly knuckling at her eyes and Harry muses out a chuckle, before she could come up with a dentist joke he's cracking it himself sensing her gears working in that tiny head of hers, “Very filling?” That makes her hide her face into his neck and giggle.

“Yeah. Could say that.” She rests her chin on his shoulder and poses her brows questioningly when his stuffy pocket pokes at her thigh, “What’s that?” He didn’t realise he was too swamped in admiring the specks of her hazelness pouring with sunlight and he’s blinking back to re-start himself.

“Oh! This ..?” He’s taking out it slowly and she’s whining and shaking him to hurry up and he’s giggling at how impatient she could get when curious.

She holds it infront of her and it’s a cute green beanie with a little gucci embroidered at where it gets folded and her smile dejects when Harry speaks, “One of my colleagues gifted me this as a birthday present.” Why didn’t she thought about gifting him this for his birthday? Not that she has money for Gucci but they've been celebrating for three years and not once she didn’t get an idea that he wears beanies alot and mighty would like it?

Anyway, it’s far better than the painting of snowy and a mason jar filled with candy wrappers having her appreciations and dentist jokes written to their backside she gifted him, Y/N pouts thinking how she could’ve get him something useful.

Harry doesn’t care about materialistic things. He says that you could buy them anytime and that money is just the murk of your palm, it goes away in one wash -- the little shows of affection always are by your side in hard times.

“Hey Muffy...” He's yawning nudging her side noticing how she zones out and away from him, “D'ya have some chamomile tea?” Her chin slips from her shoulder at the sudden rasp.

“What? Why?” She gazes him. His body slumpy and tired over her and his mouth ajar cutely, she scratches his scalp lightly and swears that he let out the softest purr.

“Was in the operation theatre fo' hours now, just came from there -- emergency case. It was bad.” He emphasizes it getting a lisp a bit and she sits up closer to him.

“What happened to the person? She asks hoping they’re okay and have any hopes for recovery.

He just fiddles away the beanie from her grip and covers her head with it folding and adjusting it over her ears, “Not tellin' ya ...” He murmurs rubbing his nose into her arm and sniffs her saccharine scent. He knows that she doesn’t take the stories from his workplace well and it keeps her awake at nights, then she’s visiting the patient herself and Harry have to drag her out of his hospital every damn time.

She cares too much. Even for strangers. She’s too kind for her own sake and Harry thinks sometimes being selfish should be the latter option.

He squints open his one eye feeling her gaze fixated on him and huffs a lil, his little stubborn bambi, she wouldn’t let it go, “Fine. They were comin' back from a party and were high maybe -- car crashed badly dentin' towards the passenger’s side ‘n totally dislocated her jaw, now y’promise me you aren’t gettin' too worrisome ‘bout her because she’s okay.” Saying this he's cuddling back into her and she smiles a bit petting his back.

“Whatever, you say Dr. Styles.” He didn’t even need a tranquilizing tea anymore. Her warmth and squishiness was more than enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

..

It’s an otiose Saturday morning. Harry and Y/N just gobbled down oatmeal she made (topped with kiwis, mangoes and strawberries Harry brought from market and threw the bag in her lap) it had too much of coconut and sugar layer than necessary, according to Harry.

While she cleaned the countertops Harry fed and kissed the crowns of each one of their cat, yet again they were left with nothing to do —- that's how Y/N ended up straddling his waist, his jaw fit in her palm and his eyes half-open funnily as she applies a liner at his lid with her pink tongue poked out in concentration.

“Stop movin’,” She snits out in a huff and the skirts of his lips alleviates up into a cheeky evil grin, his hands pawing at her hips and his intentionally dirty gaze flitters down where her nipples are perking from the flimsy shirt and almost presses to his throat, “How'm supposed to when y’tits are ready to lactate me mouth?” Blush creeps up at her cheeks at his overweening and she wanted to give out an “Oh.” Instead grips his baby curls and steadies him, squishing his cheek in doing so as if he’s her toy.

“You better shut up, or ‘m gonna shove my feet up that smug mouth of yours.” She grumps to her own self when her fingers begins to twitch feeling her ear fill with hotness, “And what makes y’think ‘m not into that?” He rockets his brows priggishly with a grin that just screams he’s about to have a upper hand in this banter of their.

“Harry you disgraceful, man!” She whines trying to pull his face upright – he’s doing it on purpose trying to push her buttons and his eyes widens in feign hurt, “’M a very holy man!” His one eye adorned with charcoal coloured liner making him look adorable.

He’s far from any of that. They both know it. He’s a nerd slut if Y/N could put into words correctly.

“Yeah. Holy piece of a shit.” She grumbles pressing her bent knee into his side and quips a happy “Tada!!” grabbing the little from beside him and almost shoves it in his face demanding him to look at himself.

Harry brings his lips together and whistles looking at himself, “My murals should be painted everywhere in the city,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Nibbling down a scoff at his narcissism desperate to jump out and points at herself with a shrug of shoulders -- silently trying to telepath with him.

“What?” He murmurs nonchalantly angling his face to have a better look at him.

“Where’s the praise for artist?”

“Why need't when y'know ‘m an art myself.” His rims shine shamelessly and he nips the flesh of his cheek to stifle down a bashful cackle at her retort.

“You’re being too bold for a person who combusts in his pants just by getting his back scratched.” She arches her brow pruriently at him and he shakes his head, brushing the belly of his nose with his knuckle and when he gazes back at her -- she knows that she’s fucked fucked.

“Says who. The dirty little girl who's sitting on her bestfriend’s cock in her panties and shirt that’s doin’ nothin' but makin'y nipples button out shamelessly.” He tuts carnally, sinking into the plush cushions and man-spreads himself so wide Y/N could feel him pressing between her folds. His smirk rottenly sinful and evil and Y/N's palm automatically jams against his torso with a weepy mewl forehead falling against his clavicles.

She wanted to argue that he’s clad in boxers too but all of her sanity went out of the window when he teasingly grinded their crotches together.

“Y'want t'be treated like a bunny, who loves to hop on dick and fucked till you’re just a soft mush -- don't ya?” His hoarse drawl makes her bob her head eagerly making him chuckle and she’s tightening her thick thighs around his waist, hiding her face into the dive of his nice warm smelling neck and keeps her lips sponged to his skin making him grip on her hips with brutal force.

She’s just so sweet to Harry. A hot pink puddle at his mere touch and all clingy to him, shrinking into him with shyness and all of this just stirs his cock angrily sensitive.

He’s always getting a stiffy thinking about her and her honeyed taste he got to lap on and he's always smelling one of his pillows that has her fragrance loaded on it, while cupping his balls and stroking his cock lazily and hard, with other.

Though his assertive words wavers into a whimperish groan when Y/N takes her face out and gazes him with doe-warm eyes, “I w'na make you feel good.” Harry throbs under her and fattens against his own belly and feels her soaking against his boxers.

“Y'do? ‘s okay —.” His chest heaves with ragged breathes from anticipation and yearn and he knows that taking care of himself would be a torture if she’d tell him a, “no.” But then he isn’t that of a prick and is awfully happy to get what he’s getting, their infinite proximity.

His head teeters back and his pelvis buckles up when she clutched the hem of his sweatshirt and uttered a poutsih, “please..” She’s nourishing a breath and gazing up at him with glossy chocolate eyes blabbering while swivelling herself slowly ontop of him, “You’re looking s' pretty and cato eyes -—.. and you’re stuffed against me s'good. I want –- I want to make y'feel amazing.” Harry’s choking a growlish moan and the urge to just throw her on couch and snug his large cock deep within her.

Her brows pinches together and she has him grabbed from shoulders while she looks between them, listening to his purry hisses and lewd moans, it makes her redden her lip –- she could see his bulbous sherbet coloured tip coated in his own arousal wrestling out of his boxers as the fabric bunches and loosens down with each stroke of her cunt against him.

“Y'want to make me feel, amazin'? Fuck. You’re devastatin' me love -- yeah, mhmph hump me prick moppet.” Her eyelids lust filled and she moans against his chin as he breathes out a euphoric smile and Y/N gains a new confidence pushing herself down on his cock harder and firmer and faster.

The fabric of his boxers tickling his wet slit and he’s smushing his cheek into her soft chest, hugging and murmuring nonsense against her when Y/N sneaks her hand down and fills her hands with his heavy cum loaded balls and Harry doesn’t know how she was able to press him under the pad of her pinky in a span of minute.

Because he’s begging all for her mercy.

He howls a whine when she sucks his earlobe wetly and grazes it to speak in the sweetest yet licentious seductiveness and Harry’s almost naked under her, “Jeez. Hmm. Yes, just like that –- Bambi. My Bambi. Makes me feel — oh fuck!” His knuckles white from where he's groping the cheek of her ass and guiding her where her mound nudges him more good and drafts him straight to heaven.

“Tell me, huh. Who’s the dirty one now?” She smirks squeezing his balls yanking the sweaty ringlets on the base of his neck and they’ve their bodies on eachother, their hands on eachother and Y/N had an audacity to compete.

He’s trashing his spine into a curve and pulling her back down on his dick. She squeals when his cock grazes her pantie line and slips up and down against her cushiony thigh slobbering it with his pre-come.

“Me, me! Fuck .. pet, ‘s me ...” His hand tightens around her ribs and his hand tightens around her ribs and he’s dragging her back and forth -- socked toes curling and teeth gnawing at the pudding of her cheek. His thighs quaking and his strong forearms brings her closer to his chest, as the pressure coils in his stomach and the gentle caress and guttural bite on the slop of his collarbone was enough to burst spurts of cum in his boxers and it quenches onto his tummy and to the inside of her thighs making a sloppy mess.

“Shit.” He mutters through a chuckle. His chin butted atop her head and she giggles moving away.

Her shirt ridden up, her panties bunched up into her ass-cheeks and Harry admires her with a celestial flush on his skin and she circles her fingers together.

She just rode his prick dry and looks like she did the most innocent thing in the world.

“’M g'na go clean myself.” Harry smiles at her squealing pitch and then realization dawns upon him, she’s talking about his jizz on her tickling her skin getting flustered and knackered feeling it. Though, it’s not only his jizz but her panties are drenched into her own salvation making it see through and her wet pussy on display.

He just gulps and nod, like an atta puppy.

..

Lavish green leaves rustles together, the soil of green-belt moist and watered recently, early morning sky swirls of blues and it’s beautiful it really is the weather isn’t too sunny – the silence in his car is comforting too and the rum of his breath makes her feel nostalgic.

But, she wanted to sleep her arse off on Sunday and do nothing and be proud of being idle whole day. Harry had different plans though –- he was jumping on her bed making her wobble on it in her sleepy state and dragged her to washroom how much she whined and fought with him.

“Oh. C’mon now, muffin .. it’ll be fun, Ni would be there too.” He tries to reason her and she just brings her knees up into her and closes her eyes, muttering in monotone.

“Nothing’s fun about golfing, Harry.” It’s little get together of his colleagues and the doctors from his hospital and Harry thought he'd die from boredom if he wouldn’t bring her with him, he isn’t one bit of interested into old men talking about how their third wife drools over them – he isn’t very fond of lies.

“Not even me? How could y’say no to me?” He gasps dramatically. Scrunched his nose and twitches his lips in fake offend.

She opens her eyes for a moment and stares at him, “Just like that,” Pinches his elbow and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Harry, no.”

“Yeah, Whatever.” He rolls his lips between his fingers and takes a turn and when they reach he's putting sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, unfolding her arms that are wrapped around herself and nudges her to be less grumpy.

“’Ve a reputation yeah .. be less frumpy.” She pokes her tongue out and Harry lurches his hand forward scaring her that he'd grab it.

“Those dilfs already kisses the tips of my shoes.” She hops out of the car and clasps her hands atop of her head stretches out and yawns out loudly.

Harry’s head perks up alarmingly at that from the boot of his car and he swings the golfing kit on his shoulder and rolls his eyes from under his sunnies, pushing her forward with a small hand on her back.

“Yeah, more like grandpas.” The thought just makes him feel icky and utterly gross – imagining those old doctors —- no he completely wants to brain wash himself.

“Bet, their willies would need heavy assistance —-,” He’s grinning abrasively down at her and she winced swatting his chest, “Harry!” She’s wiggling out of his hold and striding towards where Niall is waving them in utter excitement.

Harry pouts and stomps behind her, calling out for her to slow down and scowls when a grin makes a way at her face as Niall hugs her.

Niall showed her his little nips and tricks. While Harry looked at them with needy eyes from far stuck between the bunch of boring doctors and dentists and his lips visibly downturns when Niall trips and Y/N’s falling on her bum, clutching onto her side with a belly aching laugh.

Ni helps her stand back and it was when a women in pink sports short and Nike tee trudged towards them and Harry at the same moment and Y/N just stares with confusion as they hug and she’s smiling up at him brightly.

“Sorry. I lost the time check.” Harry’s parting away with a shrug, “Not tha' somethin’ special occurred.” and Y/N’s doe-curious eyes remains fixed on them and he's introducing the unknown women to her and Niall’s poking her side to revive her back to mighty world.

“Muffy? She’s one of my colleagues, Holly.” Y/N startled a bit then gives out a nervous smile forwarding her hand to shake it with her and Holly’s pony flails comically from the action.

Soon, she’s turning her attention back towards Harry and smiling up at him questioningly, “Did you rest well after leaving the hospital on Friday?” Y/N just fumbles with Harry’s rings on her knuckles -- not sure if she should go back to golfing with Niall or stay to take part in little conversation because Niall is growing very antsy.

“Yeah. I did, actually .... very well if y'ask so,” Harry's shimmering gaze lurks back on Y/N and she internally groans when he smirks remembering the event and she wants to glare him from the side of her eye.

She’s stepping aside quickly when Holly passes by them and towards the table full of breakfast and beverages.

She pours two cups of coffee and adds two teaspoon of sugar, handing one to Harry and Y/N wants to retort that he doesn’t like coffee and hell not that amount of sugar.

“And Y/N what would y'like coffee, tea?” Holly asks her and Y/N just chuckles gingerly when Harry looks ike he's about to gag when he takes the first sip.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Holly looks like she just saw the end of the world and Y/N holds back from rolling her eyes at her, she's giving her an aura that she doesn’t like Y/N even a bit.

“No? Why?”

“Guess I never needed that much caffeine, my job doesn’t require staying up late and all that ...” Holly sips on her coffee and leans against a chair raising a her brow at her and then asks.

Her style being uptight and arrogant just not sitting right with, Y/N.

“What is your profession?” This ferals Y/N into her thinking pot, is that even a profession? She doesn’t really know and she’s in her own headspace when Harry’s soft eyes worms back to his bambi and his eyes glints with ever proud and his smile toothy and bunny as he puts the cup aside speaking with a hint of fond.

“She’s an artist. A very talented one.” Holly arches her brow at him and hums then looks back at her -- as if she didn’t heard him right.

“So, you make art for living?”

“I do it beacuse I like doing it, just like you.” Y/N chips up and Harry just thinks his admiration grows terribly more every day for her -- because of the passion about anything she holds in that big heart of hers, the way her cheeks rubies up and brows sets into concentration.

That shuts Holly and her train of personal irritating questions.

“Hey! We aren’t here fo' some princess tea party -- can we please, go back to golfing!?” Niall finally bursts like a balloon from annoyance and Y/N's giggling and hooking her arm into his elbow, “You’re sucha cry baby.” She coos and tries to walk him back to pitch but then her gait stutters when Holly asks Harry in an expectant tone.

“Did you like my present?” Why does it layers her chest with mucky awful feeling, her stomach itself tottering and she just huffs thinking how that present sits in her drawer and she’s the one that wears it instead of Harry.

“Oh, I liked it, thank you.” Fucking liar. Y/N just shakes her head and chuckles ironically because he forgot about it the moment he gave it to her.

Y/N’s toes itches with an impulse to expose Harry infront of her.

Where’s that feisty Harry ready to bite anyone expect her and his little group of friends? What did this job do to him? Oh my goodness! Why Y/N is hating all of this so much, why why why!?

Y/N's completely being an over dramatic (she knows that) but she couldn’t help but be bitter about this Holly “oh I could woo Harry just by giving him some beanies from an overly expensive brand.” Gahk! Not in a millennia.

“’Kay, pet now you make yer goal.” Niall shouts squinting to get rid of sunlight in his eyes and Y/N was so engulfed in thinking of how the slight interest and undivided attention of Harry towards Holly makes her feel woozy and something that’s indescribable, until now. That’s when someone came behind her bended figure she – almost making her squeal but he’s shushing her sweetly -- the corner of his lips pressing to the side of her hairline and he takes in her fresh lilies scent.

Two soft beautiful boned structure hands comes raking from her shoulders down her wrists, jostling her almost as he wraps his hands around her sweaty ones and brings the golf club back in air.

“Let's fill those holes together,” His smooth rasp prickles the hair on her body in a most stinging way and she's subsiding down a blush, frowning and unfrowning to concentrate back on playing -- but it’s a fucking torture when his bulging member prominent from his tight little shorts lines up against her bum teasingly.

He was very aware of the big problem that stood between them and she’s turning with his arms still on either side of her -- doing a little knocking on his chest to gain his attention.

“You’ve —-... umm ..” She stammers. Cheeks peachy and her smile nervous. Harry hums in dither gazing down at her softly and that flusters her to living heavens.

Then his eyes follows where she’s staring in curiosity and gentleness and as if she’s ready to take him in her mouth right then and there.

He’s got a stiffy and that in public!

“Oh shit. Sorry, I wasn’t awa —-,” He's creating a little distance between them but she’s quick to grab the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer back to her, “No. No. ‘s okay. I could ‐—.. I could help you ....,” She mutters in a tizz with a hitchy breath and Harry’s dimples indents, cushy smile dancing on his lips and his pinky’s swiping the loose tresses behind her ear.

“If you want to...” She doesn’t know what’s making her more anxious the fact he'll brush her off or that he'll accept her help, but this latter option fills her insides with gales of mushiness and it makes her unsettle her footing.

“I’d love that.” He grins and she’s smiling up at him and Harry screams internally like a teenager at how she manages to be so tender and silken like a gorgeous doll in the most filthiest situations.

He keeps her infront of him to hide the potential tent in his shorts that appeared from no-where, he's being sly and clearly knows that where it came from --- from gawking her peach ass till it wasn’t printed in his mind and he didn’t even know when he was drooling at the thought of squishing her asscheeks and rolling his thumb against her puckering hole and imagining her cute lil whines for him to bore down his thumb into her till she feels his lion ring against her flesh, throwing her hips at him more —- shut up!

Though when the group of men stops them with their evil gazes on his little bambi and they’re smirking up at Harry in mischievousness, “Where you sneakin' Y/N too?” They hollered and Harry had to ball his hand on her hips and bite back from rolling his eyes sharply and rudely,

Because who the fuck they’re to ask? He could take her anywhere and why they do act like they fucking know Y/N from summat eternity, that makes him want to snap at these snobs and warn them not to ever take a step near her.

Ofcourse, he’s very well aware that their intentions towards his sweet bestfriend are evil and filthy -- he wants to punch each one of them at that.

“Just to show ‘er the lake behind,” He's giving them a tight lipped smile and leaving them baffled without giving them more to talk and Y/N giggles at his huffy-ness and pets his knuckles feeling his skin beginning to fume and turn hot against her neck.

Moments later, he's sitting on the bench of empty steam room carmine lips parted and plush are mooched to Y/N's upper belly, his long arms tipsy around her thighs and hair floppy caramel and his palm splays on the side of her waist under her shirt coveting his nails lightly into her pudgy skin – as her soft hand stays dipped into his shorts and she strokes him in gradual pace.

He’s jerking back hitting his head against the vertical mirror that covers the whole wall when she presses her thumb into his palpating tip of cock to coax out his white stickiness and uses it to coat and lube his dick and caress it, “’S’okay c’mere, honey. You’re okay.” She coos cupping the nape of his neck and brings him back to let him bury his face into her pulpy body and kisses his hair, sliding her hand under his jaw to soothe him.

Harry moans uncontrollably and tries to muffle them with choked sobs upon hearing her go all soft on him and he thinks, “honey” Is his new favourite word from now on coming from her mouth and he wants to be called honey from her all the time.

She doesn’t know where the confidence of sweet talking to him came from but the menace for Holly and her being overly sugary with him, just poked her in weird place and she wants to claim where he belongs.

To her.

Always her.

“Bet, your big cock was all achy and weepy for my attention.” She pouts slopping all the way down to his chubby shaft and tightens her grip jerking him speedily. Harry bobs his head vigorously and eagerly hugging her ever close and babbles wetly so she scratches his scalp and almost raises her hips into him when his happy and satisfied mewls fuses into her ears.

“Been —-.. been, fuck!” He gasps bolting shut his eyes when she widened her slick palm down and massaged his heavy taut balls – shaking them playfully with a giggle bitten down her throat, “Been thinkin' ‘bout you whole lot – yer such a doll.” He sighs and she sponges a peck to the side of his forehead.

“Yeah?” Her eyes glints with adore and meekness for him and when he nods with euphoric slipped eyes and rosy cheeks snuggling himself into her she mighty cried a lil.

“G’na cum for me? In my hand? Been treating you so good, honey. Love your cock –- always oozy and slick for me and your moans —- can y'moan fo' me? Show them on whose pinky you’re wrapped on.” She’s breathless but the tenderness and fondness in her voice never fades and Harry’s almost tomato grinding his hips on the bench fucking himself into her palm and brags his teeth together hissing through it.

“G'na cum. G’na cum fo'y and —- oh!” Guttural heavy loud moans are eliciting down his tongue and he’s groaning and whimpering and thrashing under Y/N shooting his gloopy spunk inside her palm and she doesn’t stop, coating his whole eternity with his own cum and digs out some more droplets from his tummy to soak into the pride that she’s the reason he’s this fucked up and ravenous and shaking under her.

She’s throwing her legs on either side of his thighs next and he’s gazing at her intensely from under his thick lashes with lovingness all slumped against the mirror and she’s ducking down to stitch her nose up against his nose and giving him an eskimo kiss and Harry’s lips accommodating back for a nice breather are tingling to lean in and place them on hers in a dotting heart swarming kiss but a knock's interrupting them and she’s quipping back a squeal and jumping on her toes.

Guess she'd just clean her fingers by licking them since there’s no water.

..

Y/N was painting one of her commission works and for her coming exhibition when Truggers came meowing at her and scraping onto floor, “What d'you want bub?” She asks wiping her fingers on the rag and puts the brush into water cup.

She follows Truggers to their bassinet and almost slips straining her ankle from rushing panicked towards Tum who's jerking in his sleeping position.

She hawks in shock, fear and trembling horror. Her ears deafening. She’s shouting at him and shaking him with tears in her eyes, “Tums? Tummies? Baby!! Wake up!” She cries but the cat doesn’t respond.

“No. No. No!!” She shakes her head sobbing loudly bringing her knees up to her chest and holds her head in her hand not knowing what to do, she calls Rori and she doesn’t even know how much time passed and Rori's hugging her and comforting her taking other kittens to room so they don’t see Tums.

“Call Harry! Call him, please, please, please .... Rori ....” She sobs feeble and painful into Rori's neck and she shushes Y/N. She really tries to but she knows that only Harry could manage to calm her down and she rings him many many times but he doesn’t pick up.

“Harry! I’ve been calling you for ages for fuck’s sake where are you?” So, when he's excusing himself telling that he was having lunch and Holly’s voice is booming through Rori's phone Y/N’s heart drops and shatters into gazillion pieces.

She may not be in right mind, but she’s seriously hurt because Harry never in million years ignore her calls.

Guess having lunch was far important than her or her calls.

It just makes her cry more.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Goosebumps layers on his skin when he hears Y/N crying and he walks away without telling Holly he’s heading out.

“Harry ... Tums, he died in his sleep.” Harry halts in his tracks. Staring at the parking sign blankly and his eyes fills with tears and his breath shudders as he tries to speak, “’M coming.”

..

Rori left and took Tums with her after tucking Y/N in bed and making sure she’s okay.

Her ears perks up when the door clicks softly accompanied by low sniffles and it pools more moisture in her eyes and the tears trick down her chin and onto pillow — because hearing him cry is just so agonising.

“Muffy ...” The mattress dips behind her and he’s scooching close to her planting his cheek against her shoulder.

His warmth melts her but she recoups wiping her eyes dry and wavers in a thorny voice, “Go away.” She distances herself from him and turns stiff.

“Moppet, please ...” He protests and she hampers herself from snapping at him.

“Go away, Harry. Leave!!” She's muffling her cries into pillow and when she faces him – Harry's chin wobbles because his muffy looks terrible and awfully sad and it’s breaking him weakly and perfectly.

“Why don’t y'go back to whatever you were doing with Holly!” She gasps moistly for a breather and Harry stands up, nose red and runny and eyes bloodshot.

“Jus’ say yer’ jealous.” He wants to be fierce with her about what she said but his voice barely comes out without being shaky and his heart is full of sorrow.

“And if I say I’m, then what?” She’s pathetically hiccupping (continuously) so much her neck hurts and she has never sound so uncertain and pleading and expectant to know if he might love her?

That if there’s something more between them than just providing eachother pleasure and being eachother’s missing half when they were lonely.

More, than just two bestfriends being eachother’s back of the hand.

He doesn’t respond and she shouts for him to stop and answer her and throws a cushion towards him, but he just leaves her to it.

Harry’s just worried she isn’t ready to take either of his confessions well.

..

Snowy sits in her lap. Max and Luna (Rori's girlfriend) are wrestling onto the mattress they took from Harry's bed and laid on the floor, (which he'd grump about when he'll be too pissy to move it back in the late night).

He’s been cranky and acting proper ratty with anyone and everyone he comes to interact with since that day.

He felt like his world turned upside down because now everything’s just against him, his milk gets soggy every morning and all of his socks and hoodies are at his little thief's home and snowy takes revenge from him for hurting Y/N by pissing on his shoes everytime he’s about to leave.

Cherry on creamy top!

He just couldn’t stop thinking about his bambi and might have chewed his fourty years old assistant ears with his rambling of Y/N and his endearment for her and unfortunately he just ficked up bad.

“’M so hungry. If Ni will cheat another round on me, I’ll be munching on his toes!!” Y/N exclaims huffing out and kicking Niall in shin as they were playing Mario cart and he’s been winning for an hour just by his cheating tricks.

They all got together after many days at Harry’s flat while he was at the duty and he promised them that he’d bring pizzas with him and now it’s almost 12 and they’re waiting and waiting in anticipation for him to arrive.

When the door knob jiggles everyone’s jumping up and scrambling closer to the door because they all are that hungry and Harry’s hands are piled with pizza boxes, soon their hungry excited expressions are dulling into annoyance and viscid displeasure when Holly peeks from behind Harry.

Still all of them manage to plant fake smiles and everyone’s greeting her.

“What took you guys s'long?” Y/N speaks lowly through a forced smile the one that doesn’t reaches her eyes and doesn’t make them appear as they are pools of earthly soil, “Oh .. we just stopped to buy some muffins -- Harry told me how much you like them, Bambi.” Oh fuck. There goes the pressure cooker blasting and rattling through each and every wall of this room and the tension thickens around and Luna's coughing and everyone is just treading back to their spots awkwardly and with disappointed sorry sighs for Holly because if before Y/N didn’t hold a grudge against Holly now she’d.

Because, for fuck’s sake!!! Nobody, calls her that except Harry!

It was their own intimate little sweet love name that Harry calls her and her only.

Not even their friends.

Not even Niall.

Just him.

Him.

Him.

And.

Him.

Now, she just came from out of the fucking blue and popped their bubble of intimacy and Y/N feels like one of those anime characters where they've a frown hanging on their head larger than their size and there’s fire enveloping them before she bursts out in rage and scream at Holly and Harry too.

She sighs. She’s far better than creating a scene and gladly accepts the box of muffins from Holly whose smile is overly sugar coated and this is what Harry says when he tells her he doesn’t like sugar in much amount – it’s irksome, Y/N’s talking about humans specifically.

“’s not even my favourites.” She mumbles staring at the vanilla strawberry muffins and Holly just shrugs and Harry gets tensed keeping his voice hushed while Rori and Him unboxes the pizzas in the kitchen, “Just thought a change would be good.” Y/N’s throat clogs up just at that. She finds it hard to even gulp down the piercing emotions piling up there.

Y/N just hates changes.

Holly wants to change everything about Harry and his surroundings, even this dinky flat he lives in —- he’s a dentist why’d he live here?

Holly tries not to grimace.

“You know Y/N hates changes, Harry I know that you guys might not be serious but we all are well aware that you too —-- fuck, Harry! Why are you fucking it up!” Rori whisper yells at him as they throw the empty boxes frantically and hurriedly to go back to living room and handle the situation before it gets out of hand.

“Ontop of that. Why did ya bring, Holly with you!? She isn’t ... well she isn’t much par to any of our likings.” Harry just runs his hands through his curls and he knows that it’s afflicting Y/N, his baby muffy who wouldn’t even see him in eye since that incident and he really wishes that all of this ends soon.

“What d'I do!? she’s my staff head and I’ve to play nice to her.” He squeaks out in a bit panic and he’s exhausted and tired and really running out of his Bambi's cuddles but she wouldn’t even let him set foot in her flat.

Even though how much he argued that, “Remember y’said this’s our one big home? Well I could be in me home whenever I want.”

Though when they're out with bright smiles and announcing that food is here, acting as if him and Rori didn’t just had an ASMR argument in kitchen.

Harry’s heart. The each chamber of his heart got cut up into pieces and fell somewhere in his stomach when he hands the plate to Y/N and she takes it without meeting his eyes, starving him off her sweet butterflies wooshing smile and tries to avoid from getting any physical contact between their fingertips and cuddles back into Ni's side as if she’s utterly cold.

She’s jealous and hurt and furious that Harry has mighty revealed their intimate nitty gritty details to Holly.

All of that aside. She’s very sad and lost and feels lonely all over again because she has no-idea that what are they, where they stand out of their bestfriends bubble and if whatever happened between them was fever dream?

“What happened, pet? Not hungry? Y'were ‘bout to munch us alive seconds ago.” Niall chuckles gingerly and nudges her as she just hovered her pizza on her plate and never brought it to her mouth.

Harry wipes his hand on his jeans listening that and Holly’s side eyeing him gauging for his reaction and her face hitches up into displeasure when he stands up and strides towards Y/N in two long steps.

“D'ya want another flavour? Is it cold? We could order somethin' else if you want to ....” His voice caring and antsy and he’s contemplating whether to sit beside her and coax her to eat but she’s chewing onto it and shrugging, speaking with a mouth full and yet again never sparing him a single glance.

“No, ‘m good.”

Holly judges Y/N’s battiness and locks up the urge to roll her eyes at this girl who Harry’s so whipped for -- she could ramp him under her feet (which Y/N would never – Holly’s just a mean ass who likes to think negatively about everyone) and he'd still beg her to do it all over again.

Holly just loves to be a victim in situations where she doesn’t even have a role, but still tries to fit in as a victim.

The truth is. She wants Harry bad. And, it’s all written clear on her face.

Their hang out didn’t take the route they planned for it to be and Y/N was heading out early conscious of Harry’s gaze on her all the time when Rori yelled enthusiastically with a bright proud grin, “Everyone's invited to Y/N's painting exhibition on Sunday, aren’t we Y/N!?”

Harry’s head snaps towards each of his friends like a lost puppy and when all of them are smiling and nodding their heads in agreement his eyes just brawls out and he feels like crying and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t tell him about it! and even if not, he didn’t got a chance to be the first one to tell her how proud he’s of her.

Rori winces when Harry rushes behind Y/N and the door's shutting behind leaving them in awkward silence again.

“You didn’t care t’tell me? ‘s such a big mo' fo'y.” He scowls. Folding his arms infront of his chest and Y/N grumbles stomping her feet onto floor.

“You were too busy —-..”

He knows what’s about to come next. The taunt and fight and something heartbreaking that’d slip from their tongues and hurt them brutally and part them away, “Baby.” He’s sighing rubbing the knot on his forehead and him calling her baby was enough to mush her into a candy floss.

“Yell at me. Punch me. Brake me nose. D'ye thing but pleaseee don’t gimme a silent treatment ...,” His eyes glossy and Y/N kinda feels remorseful and she might not give into him that easily but she isn’t to be blamed because she’s just so putty in his embrace and he could win her heart all over again as many times he wishes.

Though when she’s speaking to him after long period of four days and nine hours and cursing him out he’s still very thankful and gleeful grinning and scooping her up in his arms, “You’re a downright asshole you know that? One of our baby cat died and you were too busy havin' lunch with that, witch.” She isn’t hiding her hatred for Holly anymore and Harry cackles infuriatingly loud and brushes his cheek against her neck.

“’M sorry. Not g'na do tha' evea' again swear on me life.” He mumbles coherently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He’s hooking their pinkies together and kissing them to seal the affirmation.

..

Harry loves BDSM. Something he explored upon lurking around a sex club when he was right about to turn eighteen, of which oh so Y/N's savvy about from all those nights where she could be able to hear guys and girls howling like they got fucking murdered even sitting in the farthest cubby of her own home.

She'd not argue to him about that because of her shyness and second the music that she used to blast through speakers while painting, so they were equal.

He was quite peculiarly never interested in having romantic relationships with people -- he was just interested in what’s between their legs and sometimes their mouth.

But with Y/N. With Y/N he wants to make love to her. Lit sweet warm scenting candles that’d sheen their skins with ardour and have vases filled with flowers and cook her a dish she likes – then they share a glass of wine (optional) if they want to remember it all.

He wants to have every nice and warm thing with her, things he never got to experience.

He wants to love.

To love her.

He never really exposed himself to words like amity, adoration and intimacy. Thinks that those words are too big for his heart which’s too compact for someone to build a home in.

He hated certain stuff. On purpose. Like scrabble when his father and his friends made fun of him for liking scrabble and he kicked that shit so hard it tensiled into space — or he thinks so because he never saw it laying on his childhood floor ever after that.

Then again, Y/N came into his life and brought his scrabble back (teased him that she stole it from some kid that lives downfloor) they play whenever they could and ends up fighting everytime because, zzz isn’t a word but Harry claims it is for people who snores like they're gonna choke into their pillow next moment.

He hated interacting with people. Don’t even have an idea how he got these bunch of maniacs as his friends and then Y/N, he just thinks she’s made specially for him only carved from the cream of tenderness, beauty of love and sent upon to him like an Angel.

Harry hates sugar. But, yet again he likes no scratch that -- he loves Y/N so it doesn’t even matter.

At the moment when he’s crowded by gushing and whispering and laughing people. Praising and chatting and loving on his Bambi —- he feels like the word hate never existed in his life because all he could feel his heart is floating in copious amount of love for his Bambi as he stands in the corner letting his eyes admire her in affection.

He takes a sip of white wine from his glass and hisses when plays with his earlobe out of instinct and ends up prodding himself from where he pierced his ear two hours ago.

A smile so tiny but full of elation and lilac-ness twirls on his relaxed face upon reminiscing it – his eyes falling at her trousers and he gives himself an imaginary pat on back.

“You’re gonna repay me by ironing my trousers.” She told him standing between his parted legs and he scooted closer to the edge of counter and grabbed her teeny hands compared to his's and puts them over his thick thighs, “Whateva' y'say ma'am. ‘course now ye’re ‘bout to become a sexy artist with her own gallery ‘n all tha’.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes dabbing the cotton ball with alcohol and swapped his soft earlobe with it.

“’S not mine.” She murmurs and Harry woven his fingers with her's and tugged her forward. Lips brushing her temple and he shrugged, speaking, there’s nothing for her to be insecure about, if no one's proud of her, he is, he always gonna be, “Does it matter? Those paintings are yours. That room will be filled with your talent – ye're g'na own one soon, mark me words.” His grip tightened when she rubs her hand at his chest to warn him beforehand and he feigned that he’s scared and horrified to make her anxious about it.

“You’re sick in head you know that?” She mumbles grounding down the shakiness of her wrist as she poked the needle through his earlobe and his voice just did a lil loopy-loop as he spoke, “Yeah ... many patients tell me when I don’t give ‘em enough anaesthetic and rip their teeth out.” She blinked up at him with wide eyes and smacked him when he just slumped down against the mirror if nothing happened, his rims floaty and blown out.

Sometimes he jokes too seriously it startles, Y/N.

“You could say an ouch, atleast. Big man.” She giggled taking the needle out and puts a black cross earning after cleaning his brand new piercing, “Ouchhh!” He moaned out dramatically, fingers gliding down his skin under his eyes to reveal pink flesh and blue veins and his eyeballs.

“You’re an ass! Now go iron my trousers D’ya want me to go bottomless?” She chortled out loudly and her laugh boomed through the small washroom when Harry’s hand spanked her bum playfully, “Perhaps tha’ is what I’d never want in any case – even if I’ve to showcase me bum to everyone.”

“Harry?” She’s gazing up at him with deer eyes and tugging at his blazer to gain his attention, “Everyone’s gone?” He looks behind to get the sight of their friends laughing and chatting.

“Yeah.” Harry’s heart tweaks upon hearing her exhausted and sluggishly soft voice. She giggles into his cheek when he slings his arm around her shoulder and runs his nose up and down her head walking towards their equally tipsy friends.

“Everyone lets bunch up to give, Muffy a cuddle.” Harry drawls out. His warm breath tickling her neck and everyone just roars out gathering around them and giving them a big bear hug and Y/N's eyes turns glossier because she’s feel so loved and cared.

Just because of Harry.

When they see off their friends, Y/N isn’t rushing back to her agency’s manager to ask how much paintings she sold instead she’s snuggling into Harry’s embrace and let’s him escort them out and into the cool wind.

“You really deserve chocolate muffins, don’t ya, pet?” His chin doubles as he tries to take a look at her satisfied and relaxed face as they trod on the side of road like two penguins providing heat to eachother.

They’ve drunk quite a nice amount of bevvies. Enough that mighty would make them forget the events that are happening now and that’s nice because they could be embarrassing and cringey with having to think about it later.

“No.” Harry grabs her hand that was about to push the door of the lil bakery and she’a huffing up at him and swatting his hand away with a loud thwack, “’M an independent woman, H.” He just slides her hand away -- retorting with a smile, “And’m a gentleman.”

She squints up at him with scrunched up pouty lips and he’s mimicking her squinting her square in the eye. The clock ticks by and they break into a hand wrestling and he’s squeaking out childishly when she pinches his wrist but he’s coming back with scissor fingers demanding her to do a “stone, papers, scissors.” Fight with him.

When he’s wiggling his fingers in fire gesture she’s groaning out and throwing her arms in air, “Fire beats everything!!” He yells duckishly and spins around doing a little dance.

“Fine.” She grumps folding her arms around her torso and he’s ducking down to smooch annoying kisses to her cheeks and all over face.

Harry’s forearms remains roped around her waist and his chin rests ontop of her head, her back stays pressed to his taught warm chest whole time. Every two minutes or so she raises the muffin she’s eating to his lips and he’s taking a chunky bite out of it as they trod their way back home.

“Dun, dun dun dunnnn, do do ...” She giggles when he sways them. His chest rumbling with his deep drunk octave and she cups his cheek.

“What you singing, honey?” He just giggles clinging to her and hides his face into her neck – murmurs then takes himself out of her fragrance and shouts into the air.

“The pink panther’s song!!” She woofs out a laugh at that and he shoves his face into his palm, wheezing out cutely, “I'know y'laughin' ‘cos ‘m sayin' stupidddd things.....,”

The bunny vociferous laughs that emits from their bellies, tumbles them to the ground and the moment they look towards eachother they burst into more giggles.

Y/N scrambles towards where he’s clutching his side and rolls to face her and she crawls up his chest.

It feels good to waste time on the footpath when their hold on eachother’s this soft, warm and meaningful and full of love.

Their cheeks coral, their grins achy and their eyes gleamy ---- hands wandering and comforting eachother, cuddly and sottish and cosy laying right outside their the homes building.

He hugs her closer to him. She snuggles herself into him and worms into a touch starved shrimp and the words are on the tip of his tongue, they’ve been shown in his sentiments with zeal and passion in past and now they’re bouncing in his chest.

Though, he gulps them back.

He really couldn’t.

“I love you,” It flows away in the wind but she catches onto it and flies with it and pushes herself up on his chest blinking in perplexed rapture.

He’s breathing it out again. This time maybe slurry from inebriation but clear and audible, “oh my god baby .... I love you s'fuckin’ much.” He cradles her face in his palms and slides his forehead against hers.

“You love me?” She whispers and he giggles at her bewildered expression and bobs his head, “That’s what ‘m sayin' pet.”

She knows that she loves him too. More than anybody. Every inch of her body soaks into the word love for him.

She pauses for a moment, “How — but, I mean –- What did I do?” He just shrugs, “Dunno.” His dimples foaming deep and pretty.

“I just think we would be a good us,” At that her head perks up kitten like and she moulds her palms around his either side of neck as if he’s her warm chocolate cuppa, she smiles slowly, “We'd be a wonderful us.” Her gaze glitters on his wine moisturized pink lips and she gives him an eskimo kiss.

“Gimme a kiss then,” She demands pursuing her lips adorably but he shakes his puff of curls and pushes her face back gently, “No!” Her brows pinches together at that and she pokes his dimple pouting sadly.

“But, why?”

“I don’t wanna forget our first kiss.” He whines and paws at her hips to bring her back closer to him and she giggles muttering a silly under her breath and tries to tempt him.

“Kiss me, in this way ... we could have our firsts twice!” He gives into her mischievous offer and sighs cradling her face in his hold and murmurs against the corners of her lips, “Only ‘cos you’re cute and wouldn’t stop peskin'.” She’s grinning and pulling him with her hands and smashing her petal lips against his's, their eyelids springs close and he’s squishing her chasing to deepen the kiss and when she's parting away he’s rushing to peck her lips right back to kiss her more.

“I could really cry just by kissin' you, moppet.” He licks the spots of chocolate from her chubby bottom lip and bites it and she’s melting her mouth again over him, kissing him delicately and sweetly having a certain desire and yearn to just star into one soul that balms there tummies.

“W’na kiss you forever.”

Harry never believed into forevers.

Then Y/N wrapped him in her oh so Y/N-ish blanket and now he wants everything with her for, forever.

“Oh. Hush baby. You’re gonna gimme a tooth ache.”

..

Y/N regrets saying that. Because she’s waking up with a headache, blurry vision and churning stomach ontop of every pain the ache in her tooth came to bite her in ass and she’s hissing grabbing her cheek to soothe it down.

“Fuck my —- damn hell ...” She mutters when even the slightest of air in her mouth stings her tooth like a bitch and it dollops tears on the corners of her eyes because she has never gone through a toothache before.

She’s bargaining in Harry’s flat and into his room and he’s properly wafted, face smashed into his elbow as he wheezes through his parted mouth. She’s shaking him gently because the shrivelling drive of pain is growing after every second.

“Harry!” He’s jolting up and snapping his head in every direction instantly his sleepy gaze melts on her (a sight he'd like to have every morning) but she looks rather rotten with a nest on her head and her last night’s clothes crumbled and when she's quipping an, “It hurts Harry ....” With teary eyes, He’s immediately scurrying closer to her and holding her -- confused at first.

“What's hurtin', pet?” He mumbles groggily and she sniffs, “My tooth –- fuck.”

He sighs knuckling at his eyes and kisses her hair throwing the duvet away, “Sit here yeah? ‘m g'na wash me hands real quick and check it, hmm?” He wipes the corner of her eyes and massages her shoulder -- then unfists her hands to make her release some tension and puts them on her knees.

He’s muttering a, “Good girl.” When she nods obediently and watches his back as he trudges inside the washroom.

Coming back with towel in his hands and throws it on the bed while sitting on his knees and adjusts her between them.

“Can y'open a bit mo' f'me, darling?” He asks gently caressing her hip to loosen her up. He already knows what's about to come next and he’s afraid she’s going to be very batty about the procedure, “Aaaaa.” She practically makes the noise trying to part her jaw as far as she could while Harry’s hand remains intact around it inspecting her mouth and she’s anxious that she has a morning breath but the memories of all those time she would practically drool on his cheeks while sleeping makes her feel less awful about it,

He chuckles tapping lightly on her upper moral, “Ow!” She swats his hand away when his action physically makes her whole body go through a pang.

When she looks up at him with ticked brows and huffy pout biting the flesh of her cheek between her two morals to just do something -- anything to get rid of the pain, Harry rubs the frown away with a grimace and brings her for a hug.

“’M s' sorry baby. But, looks like it’ll need a root canal.” If his bambi wouldn’t be in such pain he indeed would have lectured her and thrown away every sweetened thing in her jars out of the window.

“Can y'endure a lil pain and wait till my last appointment? So, I could take care of you afterwards.” He asks her lovingly and his reasoning makes butterflies erupt in Y/N’s belly and she almost almost forgot about her toothache but then it pangs again and she’s hugging him tighter mumbling into him, “Sure.”

He’s making her change her clothes and made her porridge letting it cool down to a temperature where it wouldn’t stick or ache her teeth.

“Y/N ...” He glowers at her sternly when she pushes his hand away holding the painkillers and that intense ferocious glare where his soft jade eyes are turning into something very dark is enough to tell her that if she’s not taking them, there's a big scold coming and after that no leniency for an argument so she takes it without throwing another tantrum.

After making sure she’s fed well and tucked into bed he’s stroking her hair and massaging her head, adjusting her pillow as she likes, kissing the tip of her nose as he murmurs.

“Rori will be pickin’ y’up sharp at 5. Told her to wake you up gently if you’ll be sleepin’.” Her eyes are dreamily glassy and she smiles lightly and she’s already missing his touch on her skin when he stands back up ready to leave.

She really wanted to say it.

Dying to say it, infact.

But all that came from her mouth was, “I’m gonna miss you.” Earning a giggle from him in return.

“G’na miss you terribly too.”

..

Rori drove Y/N to hospital. She’s still in Harry’s clothes that he made her wear in the morning, a black galaxy sweater and wide loose pants a beanie on her head to protect her from a headache and when the receptionist waves her enthusiastically upon her arrival Y/N’s smiling but never opening her mouth knowing the bitch would be back.

“Dr. Styles went for a staff on-call. He'll be here any moment, you could go inside.” Y/N’s nodding and padding inside his room. The pain has lessened a bit and that gives her teensy energy to wander around his room admiring his lil achievements, the medal he won last year and right beside it the pen holder she gave him it that has a “HORRAY TAKE BABY STEPS BABY STEPS HONEY!!” written obnoxiously on it as if she’s screaming it to his face and she giggles at her own silly gift.

She gasps and ends up knocking her hip into his desk as Harry steps in and laughs loudly at her, tutting with a shake of his head, “Jumpy little thing you’re.” Out of habit his hands are falling at her hips and bringing her closer.

“How’re y'muffy?” He asks and she’s bobbing her head up and down dramatically but silently making him chuckle.

“’Kay get yourself comfy on the seat ‘m gonna call my assistant t’give you anesthetic.” He suppresses a smile when she worms her bum up the slippery seat and goes on pushing different buttons moving it up and down.

“How adventurous.” He snickers switching the examination lamp and she rolls her eyes. His assistant’s eyeing them with happy eyes from under her glasses and Harry’s putting his latex gloves aside as she fills the injection and Y/N's muscles tenses up in anticipation, as she tries to blink the fear away and musters up a weak smile.

Knowing she has a fear of needles. Harry rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to her and interlaces their fingers together, he coos sweetly, “It’ll be just a pinch baby.” Though, Y/N thinks Harry’s a motherfucking liar because it apparently is not just a pinch but feels like a stick shoved up your ass.

When the assistant leaves them to fetch something, Harry’s stroking the fringes of her hair behind with benevolent and caring eyes and smiles down at her sincerely.

“I want y'to relax, moppet. Yeah? Could y'do tha' f'me?” This time when he’s poking or prodding she isn't slapping him away and he’s grateful because that means her gums are numb properly.

He’s caressing her arm to assure her that she has nothing to be afraid about when she startles hearing the buzz of instrument that’s about to rip her poor gum apart.

Surprisingly she was easy. Because, Harry was so gentle with her and when he’s ushering her to spit in the little sink and she’s laying back with cloudy eyes and a grin Harry just knows the anaesthesia is kicking in.

It means that she’s allowed to blabber every dumb thing to him (she doesn’t need anaesthesia for it by the way), without any filter and timidness she’s about to chatter his brain alive.

Her gaze slowly rakes down his torso as if she’s undressing him with her eyes and she’s grinning -- more blood pooling in her mouth, “You look very handsome in scrubs — you know that?” Her words wobblish but full of naughtiness and Harry arranges them himself barking out a delighted laugh when she tugs at hem of his clothes perking her lips.

“I could really kiss you right now....” Her voice clear with desire but a hint of neediness and fondness for him and he’s gazing her down with gleamy endearment and snorts bringing the water cup to her lips, “Sorry Bambi but don’t like kissing a bloody mouth.” She keeps her doe eyes on him and they turn sad while she gurgles the water in her puffed up cheeks and spits it again into sink, about to protest with him but he’s shushing her and laying her back onto the seat.

“Not even me?” She grumps up at him and he’s retorting shaking his head in rejection, he's just trying to rile her up because he himself thinks that a single peck wouldn’t hurt.

“You’ll get an answer to this after we're done with you,” He muses softly when her eyes flicker with glee.

She was all over him as if she’s a small baby who needs his guidance to walk her way out and Harry was waving his staff goodbye with nervous lamblike smile while he tries to balance her against his chest.

The whole ride back he refrained from cooing and making im-a-fool-who-is-shamlessly-in-love noises. How could he not? When she looks this cute and cuddly in his clothes, head lulling every once a while as she sleeps facing him, her hand on his thigh to keep her reminded of his presence.

Harry’s grabbing it and kissing her knuckles. A jolly smile fluttering on his features and he isn’t waking her up as the reach and takes her into his flat – flumps her down on his bed gently and gets rid of her shoes and sweater.

Even skips dinner. Gets out of his work clothes and takes a glance of his sleepy girl standing from the wardrobe and the light clicks off before his gangly body is sliding under the duvets beside her.

Warm, sweet and cosy.

His all day's exhaustion fuses into nothingness when his feet comes caressing her calves and his chest presses to her shoulders and his elbows shelters around her in a protecting loving manner.

His heart hiccups a happy beat when she turns to his side and snuggles into him murmuring in haze, “Love you.”

He trips into utter shock. Staring down at her with baffled eyes but then the memories from past night comes upon crashing down at him like a crystal wave of ocean and floats him to an island where he belongs, always fated to belong.

He confessed his love for her.

She confessed it back.

They both were stupid and forgot it.

Now when she’s telling him that she loves him Harry feels like he’s rather about to pass out or squeal into pillow.

“I love you too, baby.” He's just wrapping her closer to him and lingering a wet kiss to her forehead.

..

Y/N’s moral was grinded, she keeps on swiping her tongue over it even how much Harry scolds her about it (it feels like a small plateau that got separated away because of an earthquake, y/n has made her own imagination about her tooth) and Harry let her chose the colour of filling that will be the mould of her crown, it was just an unnecessary thing to make her feel cheerful about it.

“Is Harry busy? Who’s inside?” She’s asking the old receptionist tapping her nails against the marble counter in eagerness to be done with it and that she’s about to take him to this yummy Thai place.

“Oh. He’s with his girlfriend right now.” Placid sereneness dooms over them and Y/N falls frightfully quite.

The poor assistant doesn’t know what she has uttered.

She just told her what the rumours has told her.

Her jittery smile drops into a blue scowl, her legs weakens at the thought and she nearly trips when Holly appears from inside his room.

It bitters her mouth with taste of anger and outrage.

Holly passes her a tight empathetic smile as if she knew everything from start and Y/N’s striding past her in resentment, her mind smoked with betrayal and vehemence.

“Hi. Moppet.” He rolls his stool over smiling up at her and it tightens her chest so much she chokes onto a breath.

How could he? No. No.

How dare he!?

But, there’s no need to cry over split milk now is it? She has to accept it that they could never be something more than just bestfriends.

“Hi.” She mumbles blocking her tears in the back of her eyes somewhere and Harry frowns, asking politely as she sits, “Feelin' alright?” She just nods and it takes Harry off-guard.

Where is his bubbly Muffy?

“Are you hurtin' somewhere?” He asks again pushing her upper lip to get a better look of her tooth. When she denies he lets it slide.

Though, when the assistant injects her and she’s groping Harry’s thigh because in grief everything hurts more than usual and her heart is dripping with sorrow and loneliness and grief she’s on verge of breaking into pieces right on this seat.

Harry’s brows clinches together in worry but she’s inhaling a puff of breath and giving him an etiolated smile to finish this as soon as possible and leave before she humiliates herself infront of him.

Her crown didn’t fit and he had to do a little more grinding. Meanwhile, Holly’s entering the room and Y/N shuts her eyes pretending that she isn’t there.

It hurts. Not in her tooth. Everywhere. Like a force is ripping her apart through a saw and it hurls her into deep agony and her heart almost stops functioning.

Harry was too focused and worried about her eerie behaviour that he ignored the frail hits on his thigh and Holly’s taking his name loudly making him stop.

Y/N’s jolting up and gagging into the sink beside her. Her knuckles turning white from gripping it ruthlessly.

She stares the clots of blood and mucus washing away with blurry eyes.

“Baby?” Harry quickly rubs her back anxiously and scrutinise with raucous beating heart as her hands shivers cupping the water and taking it in her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are y'okay? Pet?” His voice drips with panic and dread that the worst happened to her because of him --– if the case's true he's never gonna touch her again.

“Y/N!?” He’s growling loudly when she doesn’t reply him and keeps on crying. His eyes turning back concerned and soft when she hiccups a weep, “It hurts Harry ....” Holly rolls her eyes, leans against the desk and puts the file she brought to Harry beside her.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. Ofcourse it’s gonna hurt.” She snickers and this makes Y/N cry more – Harry’s holding her hands in his and stroking his thumb at her knuckles.

“Dunno --...– maybe –- ma —,” Harry’s emerald eyes are boring into her murky one's and it pierces her soul away from her inside.

Their heads perk up when Holly asks her rudely, “Are you doubting Harry?”

Y/N shakes her tiny defeated head vigorously, “No! Why —.. why would I?” More tears pooling in her waterline and dropping at the back of Harry’s hand. He rushes to wipe them away and shush her but Holly’s acidic laugh is echoing.

How could she even think that?

Y/N could never doubt him.

Why she has to be so mean to her everytime?

“I mean you —,” Holly opens her mouth to speak but Harry’s cutting her off sharply, “Dr. Jenner enough. I’ll appreciate it if you wait f'me outside.” His head snaps back to Y/N who’s wiggling out of his hold and gasping out -- her pupils blown out and woozy.

“I just need a breather.” Saying this she’s out before Holly leaving Harry baffled and agitated to ponder over how she was pain and he failed to realise sooner.

..

The zephyr is tranquil. Frolicking with her heart and the grass is dewy under her as she runs towards an empty bench outside where there’s barely any light and she wishes Harry never comes to look for her.

She’s such a mess.

Her chest suffocates with a sob. She’s trying to lull her breath back to normal just like he tells her to.

When she flutters her eyelids into vision a hand with a cross on it’s thumb is pressed onto the bench beside her and there’s an afflicted pause in the atmosphere before she slowly faces him and places her hand atop his hand.

Her breath shudders through a smile, the tension in between them thickening as Harry feels her so close but so distant from him.

Emotionally and mentally and even their souls feels trapped within their own bodies.

It upsets him, to see his Bambi like that,

“’M so sorry, Harry. My intention wasn’t to embarrass you.” She isn’t serious? Sometimes he wants to bang his head at nearby wall at her silliness.

“You didn’t.” He assures her gently.

“But I did. Infront of the person you love.” It pains to say it. In the end she could suffer from anything for his happiness even if it’s handing him to the wrong person if he loves them.

Harry’s eyes turn moist at that. An unbelievable sour laugh eliciting from his lungs as he shoves his palms into his sockets, rubs them harshly and grasps her wrists pulling her closer to him with one furious tug.

“Yeah because that’s you, dumbass!!” Y/N’s body turns into a stone at his stern confession and she’s staring him with a throb in her heart and sad kitten eyes.

His brows pricks together ferociously and his lips twitches up as he speaks chopped on tears, “Every Daphne I pick up from the side-grass while comin’ back home t’you, these stupid stars in sky ‘n these ...” His shoes scrapes against the grass as he tries to show her, “....these stupid stupid shoelaces I tie around me ankles,” He’s raising his wrist to show her the milk bottle tattoo he got for he’s in love with her and their cats, once they were drunk, “... this fuckin' tattoo I got —- ‘s always been you.” He let’s the tears shine on his cheeks and soak them rosy.

“Always you, Bambi.” His accent gluteus and hoarse, “You’re always gonna be my sweet Bambi. Who I adore and love so much.”

“How?” She whispers in bewilderment and when Harry’s warming his forehead against her's tickling her lips as he murmurs, “Because you thought we'd be a wonderful us.”

A sob is wrecking out of her and she’s wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck pulling him down into a bone crushing hug, as the night they first confessed and had their first kiss makes a home in her mind.

She’s glad they didn’t forget their first.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles through a squished up cheek and saturates their chests closer with his hand planted firmly over her spine.

“I love you too. So much of it.” They’re crying elated tears knowing they’ve eachother to wipe them away and he’s sponging a tender kiss to her mouth and the corner of her lip avoiding where it’s swollen and her cheek is bloated.

The metallic taste of her blood lingers on his own lips.

“I could even kiss your bloody mouth, see?” He giggles feathering back his lips to her lips and gives her a chastise peck.

“Let’s put your crown, my highness.” Harry scoops up giggles from within her and tries to cherish this moment for as long as possible.

He’s never gonna forget his first, done twice.

..

Not a days go by where they don’t make love to eachother. A string of knot that connects their souls as Harry keeps his cock warm inside her while sleeping and it fattens inside her when they’re about to wake up and Harry’s rolling his hips into her lazily and gradually getting out breathy hums and whispers of whines from her —- her ankles locks behind his back and he’s always hitting and caressing the spots inside her which she was never able to reach herself with her short fingers.

Their bath times are intimate. Not full of adrenaline and thrill that one would end up having a foot cast from tripping from their playfulness, like they used to everytime. It’s delicate touches. Soft back rubs. Foamy head massages and cuddly bubbles. Smooching wet kisses. Heated makeout sessions and then drying eachother off, brushing teeth together and going to bed wearing eachother’s mismatched clothes.

Their mornings are spent lounging in bed and sharing a little love, sweet irresistible kisses, mouth sweet with eachother's tongues and hands comforting eachother, having a satisfying brekkie together in bed and sometimes the other is too tired to go (it’s usually Harry) and they always remind them they’re gonna come back home to eachother.

Harry made, Y/N explore herself. Introduced her to the tingles of what it feels to be rough and have a good shag that sends her into her sub-space where she doesn’t stop thrashing and spasming under him and He’s always there to bring her back to him and to take care of her.

They sometime do it in his office room too. Whenever she’s visiting him and he looks to alluring that Y/N could swallow him whole and his thighs man-spread deliciously as he sits on the stool in his damn scrubs, “You c’mere.” He pats his thigh dirtily in a command for her to straddle him and ride his cock and she’s always obeying like a good bunny moaning out feeling him in her tummy.

They’ve had countless of sex in Harry’s living room which they turned into a working studio for Y/N and whenever she's painting sometimes naked to tease him, how could Harry resist when she looks ethereal with her peachy bosom and her adorable tummy rolls and her innocent eyes and her cushiony thighs —- so he just pushes her thighs that he’s oh so in love with to her chest and pins her to floor and fucks her till she isn’t satiated enough.

Shower sex and bit of striptease when Harry’s knackered out. The hot water that prattles on their toes and their sweaty skins that slaps against eachother’s makes it much filthier and nastier.

They’ve bunch of romantic sex too. Oh boy! Just loads of romance where he’s too soft and mushy and dotting with her.

Sometimes, two people have deep connection that makes seem romance trivial and it isn’t about lust everytime. It’s about their souls. About the deepest part of who they’re as a person. Who they could be for eachother when the time strikes.

Just like right now. As, the stars twinkle outside and the dark snowy wind hits the windows; checked by the occasional gust that rattles the rooftop and the wood would creak to tell it’s presence. Fragrance of scented candles that of peonies, sparkling champagne and crème almonds surrounds them.

Harry brought Y/N on a holiday at a mountain and had a warm cosy wooden cottage booked for themselves.

They’ve spent it enjoying themselves and forgetting about their life in city. Today, the layer of foamy crystal snow is more than usual and they decided to cuddle up into their own little comfy cubby.

He takes his time feeling her skin and she nuzzles her nose up in his throat and giggles when he purrs.

The fire churning infront of them is similar to the one quenching in his belly as he sneaks his hand under her slip dress and fondles her nipples in between his calloused fingers.

“I wanna make love t'you, Muffy.” He mumbles grazing his blunt teeth down her sweaty pulse and laps at it splaying his palm close to her bum when she arches up into him, “I’m all yours.” She guppies around a gasp and he’s chuckling sweetly cradling her face in his hold and brews his lips against her's in a passionate endearingly hot kiss that moists her breath and her each ravine pore fills with love for him.

Their chests burns with carnal desire as he lays them on the flumpy nest of bed they made from blankets and pillows, his mouth keeps on tasting her with ardent fever and he situates himself between her and grinds their pelvises sensing her nipples stitching under his fingers and she’s gnawing her teeth into his petalish lip when he fills his palms with her tits.

“So cute.” He quips when she gasps whining for him to smudge his cocoa-vaseline covered lips back on her's and her lips brushes against his clavicles, emitting a perfervid whimper as Harry strokes his palm to feel her arousal and juices, “Hmm. I could just give you a flyin' kiss and you’ll still end up squirting.” He's easing his middle finger inside her and gazes her with profound sweetness when she pushes her palm up against his large moth and punctuates soft kisses to his vein at the side of his neck that prominents from their intimacy.

“Fuck. You get t've me cock daily but still so snug, pet. G’na stretch y'nice ‘n good.” He grunts, trailing soppy kisses down the valley of her breasts. Slicking his mouth around her nipple and she whines hungrily unceasing her fingers in his curls and pulls at them bringing him down for more kisses, “You love my kisses baby? Hmm? My baby loves me kisses ...” He coos suckling onto her lower lip and latches back full to her mouth and perennials it into pastels of wetness.

Sips down her moans when he slithers three more fingers into her and fits them deep, cupping his palm against her pussy. Something weirdly soft about his bare ring-less fingers and he runs his hips into her, “Feels good?” He growls looking down where his fingers drives into her.

When she bobs her head hungrily. She squirms – goosebumps pebbling on her skin and the mellow glow of candles melting on her when he pecks her and pecks her again, kissing her tongue as he mumbles, “Bet. It’ll feel more good with my cock inside y’pussy. Tell me moppet, who's little cunt is this?” He asks wiggling his middle finger to nudge the walnut shaped spot inside her – tucked within her walls and his other hand’s pressing her thigh to floor as he saps his teeth into her neck and leaves love bites.

Marking her as his’s.

“Yours. Please, it’s all yours.” She sobs out ardently. Crumbling and lurking at the edge to hold this pleasing feeling for some moment in her belly.

“Right.” He affirms. Licking the maroon marks he littered on her puddy skin and he's grabbing her shivery hand that was about to cup around his cock and stroke it, “You’re mine.” He strings their fingers together and brings it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers.

“All mine to love on, to cherish, to be proud of –-- You’re my little Bambi.” His infatuated dotting words are making her strike herself into him, quivering and blabbering, eyes shut in bliss and love and he’s helping her ride the sensation out.

The moment he’s taking his fingers out he’s interlacing those sticky cum covered fingers with her other hand and stretching her arms and pinning their winded hands atop her head into floor.

They’re moaning into waxy humidity when Harry sheathes into her and her walls soaps around his girth as he sinks himself into her, his heavy balls pressed buried deep to her bum and he’s smushing his face into her breasts and almost snuggles into her knowing how much she loves to just be wrapped into him as he pounds his cock inside her.

He’s sweltering his hips. Feeling her gooey warmth and rolls himself harder and she’s crossing her arms around his shoulder – kissing his neck and caressing the curls that’ve grown out a tad under his earlobes.

“I love you,” He's nosing at her jaw to tip her mouth towards him and kisses it —- his hold on her delicate but she’s coveting crescents into his knuckles and a bow of string connects their mouths as she pecks him till she’s running out of breath, “I love you. I love you so so much.” Even though they’re taking their time but Y/N doesn’t think she could last a minute longer the way he’s thrusting languidly but deeply into her.

“Show me then, c’mon baby cum on m’cock. Soak it. G'na keep it inside you ‘n sleep like tha', mphmp makin' me so so good —- g'na cum?” He rasps out and she’s whimpering blubbering out without much mind as he stuffs her full and enough.

Her voice meek and high-pitch, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s dripping all over him and coating him with her cum. He doesn’t not stop and pumps it back inside her roughly.

“Fuck. Baby.” His howl wounded and broken as he feels his balls tighten and he leaks inside her, “S'okay honey cum inside me Harry .. love how you make me feel – how big your cock is.” She grates her teeth into the eternity of his throat and punctures her lips to suck around the fading hickey she gave him two nights prior.

His hips stutters, and he keeps himself up with his weak elbows spurting ribbons and ribbons of thick seed inside her.

She moans out when he wouldn’t stop cumming and she thrashes upward with a final twist of his push, his words sultry and drunk on libido, “Fuck. I came so much – you’ll ‘ave to squeeze tha’ all out fo’ me,” He’s smoothing their arms down to let them be on eachother and Y/N sees the gears working in his mind when he grins.

“In case you’ll want a refill.”

She rolls her eyes cheek smashed into his bicep and pinches his nipple, “Way to ruin the moment –- you libido driven slut." A noise peeps out of her when he whumps on her and looks up at her with an amused expression.

“Y'know tha' slut shaming is inappropriate?” She just shrugs smiling around a yawn.

“Is that an invitation to whore shame y'then?” He listens to her heartbeat. Tracing pattern of yellow flicker on her skin and kisses the curve of her breast.

“Will that end up me havin' yer fingers in my bum?” She creampies around him at his genuine yet naughty question and he snorts out loudly stirring his cock on purpose that’s still snug inside her, “Hmm then ‘m defo a whore.”

“Harry!” She pouts and he squishes that pout as if she’s some duckling -- an old habit he'd never get rid of.

..

“Mrs. Styles!” Holly’s head perks up at the call and she’s looking down at the five month old baby that has her bum situated on her momma’s hip and she squeals joyfully bunching her momma's shirt in her tiny chubby hands.

Holly just simpers quietly not greeting the duo and keeps on walking as Y/N enters Harry’s office room.

His face brightens up. Dimples popping awfully cute just how Y/N loves and his smile widens into a toothy one as he leaves everything and scurries towards his girls, “Oh my two Bambis!” He's greeting them with loud sloppy loving kisses all over their faces that makes them squint their eyes and giggle ticklish from the faint stubble that’s growing on his chin.

Their baby. Harry never thought he was able to love someone this purely and extremely. From a grumpy kid himself and someone who used to loose his shit at the formula chugging machines he used to call them —-- he never even imagined to own one.

But, after two years into marriage and moving into a house with the love of his life everything had a possibility for him and their one room that’d look so empty just made his stomach squeaky and yearn for a little one that he could protect and hold delicately close to his chest and lather them in his kisses and smell their baby scent and have cuddles with them,

Harry really wanted her to be a December baby -- if not particular then winters.

Because she just looks like the joy of Christmas and the sapience of homely evening.

Her frost bitten poppy nose. Her plushy warm cheeks that of running his fingers over an old sweater that holds infinite memories for him, the shimmer in her eyes that of snowflakes and those lips she got from her mother that of marshmallows melting on hot chocolate.

Harry really fucked his dream of her being a winter baby by fucking Y/N at the wrong time of the year.

She ended up coming out on the most heated month, june.

Wasn’t his fault too. Because they were trying for so long and he'd be all excited for the pregnancy tests but then they'd come out negative everytime weighing a ball of sadness in his chest and when they conceived her –-- he didn’t even remember the damn date.

The pregnancy for them wasn’t that hard. Minus the eventual tantrums that were thrown his way as daggers but he was skilled to dodge them and lure his wifey back to him with chocolate chip cookies.

The process of her birth was life taking for Y/N and Harry had short comings in his breath from the way his wife would all be jerking in pain.

She had to endure the labour pain for three days.

It’d always tear him into sobs as he'd fall into Rori's arms while everyone stayed inside with her for a moment.

It wasn’t easy to look at the love of his life, his bestfriend, his Bambi, his everything go through so much pain and he almost ended up regretting having a baby but when she’d be all snuggled up into his side after a long tiring and screaming day with her bump swollen beautifully with his bubba inside, it used to relax him a bit,

When she came out all sticky and covered in blood he realized at that moment that; she truly is his’s.

Those earthy gem eyes that didn’t cry first five minutes but rather kept on staring at him intrigued as to why the man that used to chatter her ears away in thick sleepy accent when she was in the cosy spot of her mummy’s belly is now just crying and crying.

They made her with so much love and care.

She was just so soft to touch. Just like their favourite flowers.

She was his Daphne.

He’s grabbing her from armpits and immediately putting a hand under her diaper clad bum when she huffed making grabby hands at him, “Hi Daphne bub! Missed daddy much?” He coos bouncing her a little and rumbles his lips against her cheek to create farty noises.

She squeals fisting his hair and yanks at it. That makes Y/N laugh out loudly, “Careful there, H. She’s getting quite handsy.” He just smiles convincing his baby to have some mercy on his curls.

When Y/N tells him about his routine and her nap timing Harry’s just sighing kissing her lips and patting her ass to move, “I can take care of me baby -- doin' it fo' five months, forgot?” He took a paternity leave to spend more time with Daphne and his Bambi.

To be sure that they were growing and healing well.

Y/N has to take the cats for their monthly checkup that’s why she has to leave Daphne with Harry and even though she’s not fond of her in hospitals Harry assured her that he’s heading home soon.

When Y/N leaves, Harry blows raspberries at her face and she pouts just like her mummy and he’s squishing that pout like his own little duckling.

“Da',” She grumbles and Harry kisses her cheek fondly and lovingly, “Yes Da, bubblin. Guess like we’ve got a date with Pooh and Roo at home.” He guffaws out loudly when Daphne's eyes visibly twinkles at the name of her plushies she likes to chew on and get them all soggy by the end of the day.

“You’re such a minx, baby!” Harry thinks he couldn’t be happier.

He’s complete.

His family is complete.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

The neither route was amazing! If you ever get ideas for it pls continue because i found it really interesting. You are a great writer.

Okay! This route actually made me very happy, but unfortunately, as much as I wanted to write it, I didn't know how exactly to do it? If that makes sense?

Context is HERE- The very end of the story is the Neither route.

TW: Anxiety, mentioned nightmares, mentioned Tubbo threatening Ranboo, guilt

I would also like to say that cuddling is platonic.

Left The Game (Plat!C!Ranboo x GN!Reader x Parental!C!Philza) Headcanon/Fic (Part 3???)

Ranboo Beloved joined the game.

(Y/n) (L/n) joined the game.

Michael Underscore-Beloved joined the game.

You and Ranboo tumbled out of the swirling portal and hit the ground with a hard thud, dirt and sand kicking up around you both upon impact.

Before you could comprehend what happened, a small squeal came from behind you and something slammed into your back, causing a groan to pull itself from your chest.

The monochrome male mumbled from beside you, his face practically buried in the grass which caused his words to be muffled.

His crown had rolled a few feet away, and his bags had opened as well, sending a few of his tools scattering, but everything seemed to be intact?

You slurred a mess of words before spitting out the sand that had gathered up in your mouth, attempting to tell the tall male that you were alive.

At least somewhat.

You both knew that you three had to drag yourselves into Phil's house, but the travel was so exhausting. Sleeping in the dirt sounded so tempting...

A quiet whine sounded from the weight on your back, reminding you that Michael had also come into the server with you.

When Ranboo got up, he picked the zombie piglin up from where he sat on your back, allowing you to get up.

You both, plus Michael who was resting on Ranboo's hip, began to pick up everything that had dropped out of the portal with you.

Once everything was gathered up, you three wandered through the iron doors of Philza's home and looked around curiously.

Two cats, one named Pog and one named Champ, came up to you both, chirping and meowing eagerly before pausing suddenly. They most likely expected Phil...

Michael gave a loud squealing noise at the sight of the cats and squirmed out of Ranboo's hold, running over to pet the cats.

Ranboo set off to find food in the chests, scribbling in his memory book the entire time.

You, on the other hand, dug through your bags to find materials you had brought to make three beds. One yellow, one grey and the other (f/c).

Once you placed each of them beside each other, Michael eagerly hopped into the middle one (the yellow one), while Ranboo walked over with plates of steamed carrots and baked potatoes.

"Stressed?" He mumbled softly, watching you stare down at your wrist where the tattoo of a heart with deep grooves in the center rested. The exact place the three hearts tattoos were, "I-I know, it's going to be a little different... But... Maybe it's a good different! ...Please, eat something and then get some sleep. Phil will check on us in the morning, and you know how he can get..."

With a smile, he handed you the plate and a fork before sitting on the floor at the foot of the beds with his own plate. Luckily he had given Michael a golden apple before he had gone to look for food, so the child was quietly drifting off to sleep, "Do... You really think that running was the best option?" You whispered, taking a bite of the vegetables.

"I... What else could we have done?" He frowned, setting his crown beside him before taking a bite of his own food, "We couldn't fight them... and they were definitely not going to let you go so easily. Hell... Tubbo... My own fiance was threatening to kill me because I was talking to you and caring for your burns!" He hissed, tilting his head back with his eyes pinched shut tightly, trying so hard not to cry.

You quickly walked over and moved his plate so it rested on his bed and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. The enderman hybrid eagerly returned the hug, crying into your shoulder so the fabric of your clothes soaked up his tears, "Should... I have just... Accepted their love, and maybe learn to love them back? For everyone's sake?" You whispered, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure.

"Absolutely not!" He yanked himself back from your shoulder to give you a glare, "That relationship would not have been healthy whether you loved either of them or not! They would've kept you locked away like a prized possession, and they would've severely hurt anyone who tried to interact with you!"

"I- I know... But..." You glanced down, but Ranboo tilted your head upwards so you were looking at him, but you still avoided eye contact so it didn't make him uncomfortable, "Your... Your relationship..."

Ranboo sighed, "I know. But, I'd rather that he showed me his true colours and I divorced him again for that, rather than him manipulating someone into loving him... and putting everyone else in danger in response. Now. We have a lot to do tomorrow. Finish eating and get some sleep."

The next morning, Philza practically slammed open the iron doors to his own house, looking a tad bit out of breath and a bit frazzled.

Once he saw you, Michael and Ranboo curled up in a small cuddle pile on the three different coloured beds, he gave a loud sigh of relief and adjusted his striped bucket hat.

Thankfully, the father of Minecraft let you three sleep for a little while before waking you and Ranboo up around noon.

First, he gave you both spare elytra's and so you could keep up with his massive black avian wings.

Ranboo's turned into massive black and purple dragon wings, while yours turned into (f/c) (f/a) wings.

Phil showed you both the end realm and his Endlantis, which he gave Ranboo special water protection potions so he could swim through the waters as well.

This man basically treated you three as if you were his own children!

Taught you how to fly.

Taught you how to cook properly.

Everything!

And basically survive with bare minimums.

Once you both got better at flying, a few months later, Philza rEAAALLY wanted to take you to the massive project he called Nether Void.

"Ready, mates?" Philza walked over and ruffled the hair on both your and Ranboo's heads with a soft smile, somehow unbothered by the blistering heat of the hellscape, "Double check your potions, armour durability and food supply."

Ranboo mostly stopped wearing his crown because it had problems staying on when he flew and because it had a lot of memories tied to it, so he didn't want it damaged. He had also stopped wearing his tux, instead, he wore plain black pants and a white ruffled poet shirt with a purple short cape that had a golden trim and gold chains, which was a gift from Philza.

You on the other hand wore something similar but with a(n) (f/c) poet shirt and a(n) (f/c) and gold cape. Your cape was also a gift from the fatherly figure as well, and so was the (f/c) infinity scarf type fabric wrapped around your shoulder over your chest that helped you carry and protect Michael as you flew, "Yep, we're ready to go, Mr. Dadza Minecraft!" You gave him a mock salute with a smile as he laughed.

Ranboo checked on Michael who was nibbling on a golden apple before he helped put the zombie piglin child into your scarf carrier, "Yeah, everyone seems safe!" He chirped softly as he adjusted his cape to spread his wings, shaking them out a bit in the heat of the lava.

"Let's go!" You cheered softly once you made sure Michael was 100% secure and wouldn't fall out somehow, "Food is stocked up and in my bag, as well as Regen and Health pots, and a first aid kit and two extra totems."

Philza gave you a proud father smile and took off first, hovering in the air for a few seconds as he waited for both of you to catch up. Thankfully, he knew very well that you both likely would never be able to catch up to his skill in flying as he had been born with massive feathered wings hundreds of years ago. You and Ranboo had never been into the air until a few months ago. Once you both caught up, he took off and soared through the burning hot nether.

Phil loved telling you both the stories of the lands. The Blaze Empress who lived in the Quartress, the foolish Ender King...

You and Ranboo always listened to his stories with such eagerness, often asking him to retell the stories when you were having a bad day or just wanted to relax.

The elder male actually greatly enjoyed having two children to raise again, even if he didn't have the best track record with sane children.

When he did leave to go to the DreamSMP, he would always promise you both that he would be safe and NEVER left without saying goodbye, even if he was angry or upset with either one of you.

He never wants his last words to someone to be filled with anger or hatred.

Somedays he would go to the SMP, you and Ranboo would not leave the house, just out of fear that he wouldn't come back, or that Tubbo and Tommy would come out instead of Phil.

Both you and Ranboo were plagued by nightmares very often for the first few weeks and woke up in tears in the middle of the night.

As old as Phil was, he had absolutely no problems comforting either of you in the middle of the night, same with Ranboo.

"Here mates..." He whispered softly as he handed you a hot beverage and gave Ranboo a grass block, "You're safe here... I promise. I would have to allow either of them into the server, and that would never happen... Especially now that I know what kind of people my sons are..."

You sighed and put your hand on Ranboo's back as he sobbed into your shoulder, using the fabric of his shirt to dry his tears before they burned his skin, "I know... I know... There's just the overwhelming fear that suddenly I'll wake up and I'll be back in the SMP and-and..." You decided not to finish your sentence, nuzzling into Ranboo's hair to try and keep yourself calm.

"Last I checked... Techno scared them off from the Tundra... But I haven't been in Snowchester or near the Embassy enough to know what Tubbo and Tommy are doing. But Ghostbur said that Tubbo has gone absolutely nuts... And Sam had to steal the nukes so Tubbo wouldn't destroy anything else... He also said Tommy on the other hand hasn't done anything except visit Dream in prison constantly."

Ranboo gave a shaky sigh and glanced over at Michael, most likely extremely happy that he brought his child along so he didn't have to deal with a psychotic Tubbo... Hell, he didn't know what would've happened to his kid if he did leave him. The thought caused him to give a small sob and hide his face again, holding onto you tighter and practically pulling your smaller form into his lap, trying to silently promise you safety and using you to remind him that he wasn't alone.

"We... we can't thank you enough, Phil... Really... You taught us so many life skills, kept us safe and promised us a safe haven... Allowed us to your private server..." You whispered, before feeling the warm cup being taken from your hand before a hand replaced it.

"Honestly... It's the least I can do to protect you both... You two have become two children to me, and, while I haven't been able to raise you from children like Techno, Wil and Tommy..." He didn't continue his sentence, struggling to form sentences, but both you and Ranboo understood and were quick to yank him into your little cuddle pile/hug, the two of you eagerly hugging him.

"Thank you... Dadza..."

[blushblushheadcanons]

may I request some yandere Stirling, Scale and Dmitri (I'm kinda curious to see what you'd come up with for him)

aaaa sry if it took a while, writers block and all that

also I wrote this while hungover so sorry for any mistakes

hope you still enjoy it!!

(Imma stop adding the little aesthetics cause honestly i spend more time looking for pictures than actually writing ausbks)

TW: murder, stalking, obsessive and delusional behavior, mentions of non-con (?), drugs, kidnaping

♡ Stirling, Scale & Dmitri Yandere Headcanons ♡

Stirling

Didn't want to admit at first. Seriously? Love? Such an infantile feeling. Being centuries old, he thought he was above such foolish desires

Except... Maybe he isn't.

The ache in his heart whenever he was near you was too strong to ignore, too real to try and supress

After coming to terms with it, you're his. No objections. He claimed you as his own, there's no coming back.

Love bites love bites love bites

Marks you all over so people know where you stand. No sane person would try to flirt with a vampire's significant other, and he knows that

I can honestly see him kidnaping you at some point. He just can't seem to stay away from you.

Locked up in his house, he spoils you with the most luxurious gifts you can possibly imagine, as if that makes up for taking away your freedom.

Also, congratulations, we got our first murderous yandere in the series!

And I really mean it. Your friends, family, acquaintences- one by one, they start disappearing. On the bright side, at least you didn't have to see their corpses.

He's delusional, and takes your fear as shyness, which only prompts him to be all over you even more. No need to scoot away from him, darling, he knows you're just hesitant to show your love! Though your timid attitude is quite endearing.

If you ever try to run away, he becomes a lot harsher, drinking your blood just enough to make you too weak to move, at least until you learn your lesson. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he specially doesn't want you to leave. He'll do whatever it takes to avoid that.

Danger level: 9/10

Scale

*"If I killed someone for you" by Alec Benjamin starts playing*

An absolute stalker.

He convinces himself it's a protective mesure, keeping an eye on you to keep you safe. Which isn't completely wrong, but there's... Something more to it.

Knows every tiny bit of your daily routine, and isn't good at hiding that fact. Will probably mention something while talking to you that you know he shouldn't be aware of.

More merciful towards those close to you than Stirling. If he sees they make you happy, he'll leave them alone. After all, that's really all that he wants: you happy and safe. He'd do anything if it means he gets to see you smiling, specially if it's at him.

Those who have made you upset, even if it's just a petty discussion, however...

Doesn't matter who they are. Best friend, family member, he doesn't care.

He doesn't even try to hide the body. In fact, he wants you to see it. In his mind, it's a way to send you a message; that nothing bad will ever happen to you, and no one will ever hurt you without fatal consequences.

He's absolutely pitiless about it too. He knows how to kill someone quick, a clean hit, straight to the point. It's his job, after all; it's what he's best at.

However, he is more than capable of making a mess if he so desires. Slow, painful and merciless. It's what they deserve after troubling you, after all.

Danger level: 10/10

Dmitri

Worships the ground you walk on.

He's a very artistic guy, and you're his muse. Everything he makes, it's either for you or thinking about you.

And he tells you that all the time.

His entire room is a shrine of you; sculptures, paintings, poetry, pictures he took while you weren't looking, items he "borrowed", anything and everything he can make or get his hands on.

Thinks you're flawless in every sense of the word, which makes him dislike most of the people you interact with. They don't see you the way he does. They don't appreciate you for the actual deity that you are, the pure perfection of your being.

It starts affecting his health. He doesn't sleep or eat properly anymore because he's too busy with his crafts in your honor- he created a version of you in his head that fits what he invisions as "the perfect partner", wheter it's accurate to how you actually are or not. He's Pygmalion, and you're his ivory statue.

Not above slipping drugs or aphrodisiacs in your drinks if that will get him what he wants.

Would never do anything to upset you though. He loves you far too much for that. Which is the only thing keeping him from kidnaping you or hurting those he deems "unworthy" of your attention.

Careful, though. You never know what he might do if this little fantasy of his was to be shattered.

Danger level: 5/10

[marvelandsuchstuff]

Sleepless Nights and Golden Sunlight (Corpse husband x reader)

A/N: helllllooooo everyone, I think like most of the internet I have been obsessing over this man for the past week and couldn’t help myself. I would however like to take this time to say that I will fully respect this man and if he ever does want this taken down - I will do so :). Anyways I wrote this shit in 12 hours and it’s now 2:45 am lol but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None, unless I can kill you with softness

It was well past 6 am when the sun had crept through the sheer curtains of the room (y/n) lay asleep in. The golden light streamed on to the grey bed in which she was peacefully in her own world. She was curled up around one of the pillows, with a small smile cracking through her soft lips.

In one of the other rooms, a man sat at a desk trying to record a video for the third time in the past four hours. He was growing increasingly furious with the script in front of him, no longer wanting to attempt reading it out. Put it down to the lack of sleeping for more than three hours or the fact that he was pushing himself too hard again with the rapid rate of growth over these past couples of weeks. But what he did know is that he needed to finish this video, however, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t seem to do it.

That’s when he finally gave up and slammed his hands down on the desk in front of him, not noticing how loud it had been. He sighed and looked at the time on the side of the screen and starred as the minutes passed. Great. Another sleepless night had passed him by without a shutter of a thought. That’s when he heard a sleepy girl’s voice from the doorway.  

(y/n) awoke from her peaceful state when she suddenly heard a forceful thump from down the hall. She hurriedly pulled herself up, dazed and confused and still half asleep, slowly gathering her surroundings. The golden sun bursting into the room now blinded her eyes as she tried to look around at where she was. (y/n) put her hand up blocking it from her line of sight and sighed with relief as she realized she was at corpses' house, in his bed. Safe.  

Although this fact comforted her, she still was mildly distressed at the sound she heard moments before. Almost immediately she noticed how she was alone in the king bed, which wasn’t surprising, in fact, it was normal for her. She knew corpses’ sleeping habits often kept him awake until ludicrous hours in the morning and often he would only end up getting a few hours sleep before returning to reality. Often she would have to drag him to bed, only for him to leave once she had fallen asleep in his arms and he made sure she wasn’t worried about him. So, she decided to go find out what was happening and where her boyfriend had gotten to.

She put her hand down and slowly swung herself out of the warm covers onto the cold hardwood floors. She pushed herself off the mattress, steadily gaining her balance and then slowly walking to the door, still very tired from not having enough sleep. She then opened one of the bedroom’s double doors while leaning on it for a bit of support. (y/n) roamed down the hallway, her feet cold from the wood under them, searching for her boyfriend.

She noticed the dark purple glow coming out of his gaming room, which only could mean he was in there. As soon as this realisation occurred, she felt her legs growing even weaker and used her last source of strength to get over to the door frame. She quickly lent herself against it to support herself before she entirely collapsed onto the floor.

Once (y/n) had gathered herself again, she glanced over toward the computer monitor and lo and behold saw corpse staring at something on the screen. He seemed like he was in a different world, taking no notice of the small girl behind him. After about a minute (y/n) built up enough energy to let out a small and soft “hi”.

The chair swivelled around to face her, and a weak smile crept onto corpses’ face, “hey baby”,

However, he soon realised the state (y/n) was in and quickly dashed over to her before she completely fell to the floor.

“Princess, what are you doing awake?” he asked with concern as she sank deep into his chest for some stability.

“Hmmm, I’m ok”

“You sure, because right now you're clinging onto me as if gravity didn’t exist” he chuckled lightly.

“Yeah,” she whispered and giggled a bit, “Anyways I heard a loud noise and wanted to make sure no one had come to kidnap you,”

He laughed again, “Well I’m standing here are I? So I must be fine unless I’ve been given some drug to make me hallucinate the most beautiful person in the world. Which in that case I want to be on this forever.”

(y/n) laughed and smiled into his chest. They both just stood like this for a moment taking in the silence and the warmth of each other. Their breaths aligned creating a bliss in which the earth itself shattered away and nothing else mattered. Two souls becoming more intertwined with each second passing by. Heaven.

Corpse was the one to finally break the silence, softly asking, “Do you want to go back to bed?”

(y/n) nodded into him, “mhm, can you come with me?”

“Of course princess, I wasn’t planning on leaving you anytime soon” he mumbled.

Then suddenly he manoeuvred around her, still making sure she had balance. He carefully picked the girl up bridal style and moved over to turn the lights off. At first, (y/n) was a bit taken aback by this but quickly adjusted to his body and curled into him. She closed her eyes softly caving into the darkness but wanting to stay awake until they got into the bed.

Corpse carried the girl in his arms down the hall, no longer concerned about the video he left or the lack of sleep he had. All that mattered was his wonderful and sweet little girlfriend who kept him sane at the worst of times. He looked down at her and he wondered how she ended up with him.

“Why’d you choose me?” he whispered, not sure if she heard him.

This made (y/n) open her eyes, now full of concern. “Because I love you, I knew it then and I know it now”

They both recounted the night they met. It wasn’t much, the met when poki had invited (y/n) to play a couple of games of among us and he was there. (y/n) remembers instantly feeling overwhelmed by even the few amount of people there. Corpse realised this a couple of rounds into the game after poki kept asking why she was so quiet compared to normal. He had seen her talk in poki’s videos a few times and was wondering the same because she was often more vocal in those videos. So he decided to message her to see if she was ok, seeing the same signs as he does with himself. For some reason (y/n) decided to tell him what was going on in hopes that he could help, knowing that he also struggled with these things.

After that, they immediately became really close and both were happy that they finally found someone who fully understood one another. The rest became history and now they were here, together.

“I love you too. So much,” Corpse said, smiling as he pushed the second of the double doors open. He then walked over to the opposite side of the bed and then carefully laid the girl down on the mattress. He moved the pillow she had been curled up against to make sure her head was supported.

After he put her down he went to the wall with the control panel and lowered the blackout blinds so they wouldn’t be disturbed by the already light sky outside. Then, he went back around to the other side of the bed and climbed on top of the grey sheets. He pulled the covers over both of them and tucked them into (y/n) side to keep her even warmer. Then snaking one hand over her torso and leaving one to play with her hair, he pulled closer to her body

“Are you going to tell me what was that noise I heard now?” (y/n) quietly asked,

“It was nothing, I just got mad at a video I was trying to film”

With this, (y/n) turned over to face him, searching for the emotions on his face. A strange look of sadness and anger and hatred she knew all too well. Very often this was corpses’ permanent emotional state where it is for something like a video or mean tweet, or more often himself. Every time she sees this side of him, it breaks her heart because he, of all the people in the world, definitely doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

The worst part is, however, often she feels as though there is nothing she can do to help. The best way she has found is to be there for him, whenever and whatever he needs because she knows he would do the same for her.

“Can I do anything?”

However, what she didn’t realize was how much she already does to help, just by being there. Because often if she’s happy and doing ok, he would always come back to her. His own personal light in the dark.

“Get some sleep for me baby. That’s all that I want you to do,” He replied, running his hand through her hair.

“Ok, but please stay with me?” she asked as she fell back into her own little world of dreams.

“Of course princess, I wasn’t planning on leaving you anytime soon”

[zeldas-cigarrette]

⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

[nmikaelsonimagines]

Right Where You Left Me: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from @s-r-amikaelson: hi, lovely, i saw your "Evermore" list, so could please do a Klaus x Reader with the song "right where you left me" from Taylor? Kisses, sweetie

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Right Where You Left Me

Friends break up, friends get married Strangers get born, strangers get buried Trends change, rumors fly through new skies

He wouldn’t be there to see it all happen.

Klaus wouldn’t be by your side, watching the world change like he had for so many centuries. He wouldn’t watch your friends get married, the idea of your own wedding disintegrating before your very eyes.

He wouldn’t be there to watch his daughter grow up, to watch her become the bright young girl that she was destined to be. He wouldn’t be there to listen to you tell her stories all about her father, to watch you cry in the shadows when she was fast asleep, missing him deeply.

He wouldn’t be there to watch humans crumble into ash, as they always did, buried in the New Orleans graveyard where their loved ones came to see them. He wouldn’t be there to watch any of it.

He wouldn’t be there to watch the seasons change, the leaves falling, holding your hand as you walked through the woods, talking about everything and nothing.

That’s what ran through your head when he looked at you for the final time, sorrow in his eyes, when he whispered that single word that only you could hear.

“Run.”

And you did, his screams as Marcel plunged that dagger into him echoing in your ears for years to come.

But I'm right where you left me Matches burn after the other Pages turn and stick to each other

One year.

One year without him. Hope was three now, walking and calling you her auntie. She had picked up a particular affinity for colouring in, not quite staying in the lines, but that didn’t matter. She had adopted her father’s artistic ability, it seemed.

You looked over at her latest picture, telling Hayley you would tidy up, letting the hybrid get an early night. Hope was already in bed, fast asleep.

You hadn’t slept in a year. Not when you knew that Klaus was in unimaginable pain. Maybe it would have been better if you had the support of his family around, but they were just as incapacitated. You picked up Hope’s picture and made your way to the attic.

It was dark, and you struck a match to light the candle on the wall, the only source of light in that dingy old place. Four coffins came into your view and you strode over to the nearest one. Elijah.

You picked up the book you had left there from the night before and sat. The pages stuck together, but that was its age. “You’re missing out on this one, Elijah. Klaus always told you it was a good read.”

And you started to read, Hope’s picture on your lap as you were reminded of her father, voice catching as you tried not to cry.

Wages earned and lessons learned But I, I'm right where you left me

Two years.

Two years without him. Hope had just turned four, her artistic ability improving as she had gotten better at staying in the lines. The question she asked you still echoed in your ears, your heart hurting as you answered it with a smile. “Do you think Daddy will like this when he comes home, Auntie Y/N?”

When he comes home. Her innocent hopefulness kept you sane most days.

You had gotten a job now, a waitress in a restaurant downtown where no-one knew your name or who your family was. It was something to get you out of the house, to keep your mind off the thought of Klaus going through hell. At first, it had been great, but then your boss had put you on night shifts, and that was when the undesirables came out to play.

You hung your coat up before making your way up to the attic, the ghost of that man’s hands still making you cringe. It wasn’t the first time someone had shown more than an interest in you, but you had always had someone to help you escape.

You walked over to her coffin and sat. You put your hand on the lid, and sighed. “Hey, Bex. Could have used you today.” Rebekah was always the one to get you out of those sorts of situations, usually with a threatening comment. “Klaus would have lost his mind.”

Klaus, always the jealous type, would have run to avenge you. You had always moaned about it, but this time, you realised you missed it.

Missed him.

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light

Three years.

Three years without him. Hope was five now, and had moved from colouring in to painting. You had bought her a set of block paints for her birthday and were more than happy to watch her paint flowers with five red petals and a yellow centre, green stalks leading down to two leaves at the bottom. More often than not, she ended up with more of it on her hands than on the paper, and she liked to make you laugh by painting your cheeks with it.

To make you smile for when Daddy comes home, she would say, your heart breaking.

You had quit your job after one too many handsy customers. You were just happy to be the woman in the corner of the restaurant, staring at a whiskey, passers-by telling you to cheer up because it might never happen.

You stumbled home after such an occurrence, alcohol slurring your movements. They were right, you needed some fun, but the only person you could think of having such fun with was lying in a coffin. Up in the attic again, you made your way over to where Kol Mikaelson rested, perhaps in more danger than any of his siblings.

“Don’t you die on me, you git.” You patted the lid of the coffin, the familiar nickname rolling off your tongue. “I need someone to get into trouble with.” You chuckled, remembering. “Someone else for Klaus to shout at.”

Klaus, whose shouts had been turned into agonising screams.

They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop

Four years.

Four years without him. Hope was a lively six-year-old now, and her artistic skills had improved greatly. Actual pictures were created now, an ability to rival anyone of her age, maybe even her father one day. But you still held onto that first coloured-in picture, keeping it safe to show to Klaus when he came home.

When. You tried to hold onto Hope’s optimism, but it had been four years now and you were finding it difficult. You still held onto your spot in the corner of the restaurant, watching customers look at you with pity in their eyes. The worst was the recently engaged couple, the woman’s hair pinned up to make her look like a film star.

Once, you had got ready for parties and made an effort to look like that. But, you’d always had help from a friend, a sister really. Of course, that witch was now sleeping with her siblings.

You sat by Freya’s coffin, cross-legged, and laid your head on the lid. “You would have loved her dress, Freya. She walked in and it was like everything just stopped. You remember when people used to look at us like that?” You smiled, remembering your entrances to such parties. “But all I ever cared about was Klaus.”

He would take your arm and lead you to the dance floor, laughing as you tried not to step on his toes.

You had never wanted to dance more.

Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on, I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

Five years.

Five years without him. Hope was now seven, a fact that didn’t seem possible. You looked at her in the garden, her little easel set up as she painted, the sun shining down on her. You took a sip of your water, having moved away from alcohol at Hayley’s request. When Klaus came home, he wouldn’t want the love of his life to be a drunken mess, and Hope certainly didn’t want that of her auntie.

When. It seemed like such a useless word. The world was changing before your eyes, and you were still here, waiting for something that would probably never happen. Hayley told you to keep the faith, but it was getting harder and harder with each day that passed. Speaking of, the hybrid walked over and took a seat next to you.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You continued to sip at your drink, looking at Hope.

“Look at me.” You turned to face Hayley, a smile playing on her lips. Her next words made you drop the glass you were holding, fragments scattering over the white tablecloth. But neither of you cared as the dust that had gathered on you as a result of waiting blew away.

“Y/N, it’s time.”

Time to get your family back. Time to get him back. Time for Klaus to come home.

They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

Five years and two days.

Five years and two days without him. Hope was excited to see her father, as were you. You had volunteered to stay and look after her while Hayley went to save the day. She had looked surprised when you suggested such a thing, but understood when you told her that you weren’t quite sure if you could face Klaus in that state, his screams from five years ago still waking you up in the night.

You sat on the sofa, staring into space, waiting and wondering. A small figure curling up next to you snapped you out of your thoughts. Hope. She should have been in bed, and you told her as much. She shook her head, and you knew she couldn’t sleep. Holding her hand tight, you led her back to her room. And that was when she asked.

“Tell me something about Dad.”

You smiled, knowing the perfect place to start. The story of how you met him, of how you had fallen in love with him, about how he was kind and gentle, fierce and protective when he needed to be. It wasn’t long before Hope had fallen asleep and you moved away as so not to wake her.

Then the headlights glared through the window.

Then, as Klaus had told you five years and two days ago, you ran.

Only this time, it wasn’t away from him.

Right where you left me You left me no, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever

Five years, two days and three minutes.

Five years, two days and three minutes without him. Hope was fast asleep, but you didn’t care if you woke her when you opened the front door with such force, it hit the wall. You didn’t care when you saw them. Elijah, your reading partner. Rebekah, your wing-woman. Kol, your partner in crime. Freya, your dearest friend.

And then-

Klaus. He hadn’t noticed you yet, talking to his siblings. But when he turned, the smile in his lips transforming into a look of shock, everything stopped. You felt your heart heal itself when he walked towards you, disbelief in every step. “Hello.”

“Hi, Klaus.”

“You stayed?” You smiled, knowing that Klaus had always believed he didn’t deserve you, probably thought you would take his absence as an opportunity to move on.

“You kind of didn’t give me a choice.” You shrugged nonchalantly, earning a confused look from him. “I love you, you idiot.”

And then that shock turned back into a smile, a grin that stretched for miles. “And I you, Y/N.”

Five years, two days and three minutes.

You would never go that long without Klaus Mikaelson by your side again. You would make sure of that.

Masterlist  

Evermore Masterlist

[dragonsareourfuture]

Death Note/GN!Reader — Pick Up Lines

A quick little scenario in which your Death Note sweetheart uses a terrible pick up line on you! I feel as though these all kinda suck since I write this a while ago but it’s fine. It’s fine.

Mello

Staying up late every night and watching security footage was not fairing well for Mello. Dark circles started to form underneath his eyes, and you pointed out that he was turning into L, all he needed was black hair and a haircut. He simply responded “The day I cut my hair short is the day the world ends.”

Usually when Mello got tired he would turn into a grumpy, adorable gremlin but, mixed with the excessive amount of chocolate he consumed due to boredom, he had turned loopy. Matt had relied on his headphones to keep him sane, whereas you were left with no escape from the babbling blond.

Mello rambled on and on about how he was going to beat Near with every fiber of his being, slowly getting sidetracked into a conversation about sheep.

“They’re so fucking fluffy. Standing around, eating grass, taunting me.” The blond mumbled, his head resting on your lap as you stroked his hair, listening with genuine interest.

“Mhmm, how do they taunt you?” you inquired, wanting to know more before your boyfriend fell asleep and you never got to find out why he felt so threatened by white, fluffy animals.

“They just...do  .”

“Well, I’ll always keep you safe from the mean, mean sheep.”

Mello shifted so that he was gazing up at you. He lifted his hand to your face and gently smacked your cheek with his palm, rubbing his tired eyes with the other hand.

“Aw, babe you’re so sweet when you talk like that... You make me melt like chocolate in the summer~ ”

“I do what?”

Before Mello could answer, unconsciousness grasped him and pulled him down into the dimension of sleep. You sighed, disappointed that you wouldn’t get to hear more, yet also relieved that Mello could finally get the sleep that he needed.

“G’night, Mels,” You whispered, brushing his bangs to the side and kissing his forehead, “You make me melt, too.”

Matt

Matt’s been acting strangely clingy all day. As soon as you noticed this fact, you immediately figured that it was an anniversary or either one of your birthdays and it had slipped your mind. However, upon further inspection of your phone calendar, today appeared to be nothing special.

You were seated on the couch, watching a bit of television while Matt washed the dishes. You had insisted that you could handle that task yourself, but the goggle-wearing sweetheart had insisted that you relax.

Suddenly you heard the sink turn off and footsteps lead up to the couch. You turned around to see the redhead wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind.

“Hey, I lost my phone number...can I have yours? ” He asked with a sly smile.

“Matt, you have my number. Is that a pickup line? You know we’re already dating, right? Is my number not working?” You interrogated, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and calling your cell from it to ensure that your phone number still worked.

“No- it’s... you’re supposed to go along with it!”

“Well, come up with a better one next time, dumb ass,” You tossed Matt’s phone back at him, the device landing in his lap. He pouted and shoved it into his jacket pocket, getting up to return to the kitchen.

“You’re no fun.”

L

The room grew dim and increasingly empty as the hours ran further into the day, eventually turning to night. Despite the signs that you should be on your way home, you stayed with the only detective who thought it appropriate to work into the ungodly hours of the night.

You glanced over at L, back turned to you with his nose practically pressed against the computer screen. You rolled your eyes and switched on the main light of the room, saying, “You’re gonna ruin your eyes reading in the dark like that.”

L did not respond but, at the looks of it, kept on reading the minuscule words on his screen with intent.

“Do you need anything? Water? Maybe some cake?” You asked, giggling at the end of your words for no other reason than the tiredness getting to your brain.

“No, thank you.  I already have you, and you’re sweeter than cake, anyway,” L droned matter of factly, not even tearing his eyes away from the luminescent screen.

“Awww! Oh my god, L!” You squealed, running up to L and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ah...(name), I c-can’t breathe...”

Near

You could practically hear the blood flow to your brain as you spun around in a desk chair at painful hours of the night. The screens that filled the SPK headquarters shone in your eyes, keeping you awake along with the unhealthy amounts of caffeine you had consumed.

Your white haired boyfriend sat crouched on the floor by your feet. The clicking of building blocks rang throughout the otherwise empty room as he stacked them on top of one another, paying no mind to anything else.

You sighed, placing your chin on the palm of your hand and deflating on the spot. No amount of caffeine could keep you here as late as Near always stayed, no matter how much you wanted it to. You hated that he was here alone all the time and, even though he always tried to convince you that he didn’t care, you knew it took a toll on his mental state.

You shifted in your chair, about to heave your body up when Near’s monotonous voice kept you still.

“(Name).”

You waited for him to continue, and spoke up when he stayed silent, “What’s up, babe?”

“Do you like LEGO ?” Near inquired. His eyes finally met yours as he twirled a LEGO piece in between his fingers.

“Uh, I guess—“

“Because I want to build a world with you... ”

You froze, wondering if the caffeine was getting to your head or if Near had actually used a pickup line on you — and a goddamn adorable one at that.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. You slid off the office chair and dropped to your knees on the cold tile beside Near, throwing your arms around the boy without another word.

Though he stiffened at first, Near melted under your embrace. He buried his face into your shoulder and wrapped his noodle arms around your torso. You stayed like this for either a minute, or an hour. It was so quiet that you could hear your hearts beating in sync. Everything was so perfect, so loving, so-

“ARE YOU GUYS STILL HERE!?”

Your heart nearly burst from your chest at the sound of a door banging against metal and the rough tone of Rester calling out to you.

Near grumbled and shoved his face into your neck, trying and failing to escape the booming echo of footsteps that approached your little heap on the floor.

“Yeah,” your voice came out ragged and small, but enough for Rester to hear and follow, “right here.”

“You both look exhausted! Come on, let’s get you to sleep.”

When Near barely moved a muscle, you took it upon yourself to pick up his limp body from the floor bridal style and carry him to bed. Though you almost dropped the poor boy more than once, you’d say you did a fairly good job. And, once you were both snuggled up in bed, you got a good nights rest of a solid three hours of sleep. It was the most Near’s gotten in weeks, so you were not complaining.

Light

Though you were already in a relationship with Light, the cheesy lines and swooning from him never ceased. You wouldn’t have to fend him off with a stick but he loved to be all over you even when he already won you over, and you loved that about him.

This was mainly exhibited when you two were alone together, him finding public displays of affection to be childish and overall unnecessary as everyone you hung around with at school respected your relationship quite nicely.

The two of you were strolling on the sidewalk after a headache inducing day of school. His arm was resting lazily over your neck as you walked while all attention was focused on you and you alone. You ranted about the difficulties of the day and, although they were mostly all minor inconveniences, they really got under your skin once all added up.

When you had finished, you huffed and rubbed at your temple.

Breaking the silence that followed, Light blurted,  “How would you like to be the goddess of the new world?  You wouldn’t have to deal with that crap anymore.”

You laughed, reaching up to lace your fingers with the hand that dangled by your shoulder. “Dude, I barely know what taxes are. I don’t think I can handle being a goddess.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Light pouted jokingly.

The two of you came to a stop in front of his house, him pulling you flush against him and just staring wistfully (up/down) at you. “Do you want to come in? I’m sure Sayu will be delighted to see you.”

“Oh, I’d love to but I don’t want to intrude—“

“Nonsense. Come on.”

And so, Light guided you into his home, his mother and Sayu cheerfully greeting you at the door and whisking you away into a night of wonderful conversation and a lovely dinner.

Matsuda

You took advantage of the daylight, working nonstop so that you wouldn’t have to stay after hours to get your unfinished work done.

Through your tireless efforts, you failed to notice a pair of familiar eyes glancing back at you every so often. You only noticed a change in your boyfriend’s behavior when he came rolling up to your desk in his wheely chair, resting his chin on his elbows and looking at you expectantly.

“Hey, what’s up, Teddy Bear?” You greeted, barely tearing your eyes from the papers splayed out all across your desk.

Matsuda grinned from ear to ear every time he heard that nickname. It made him feel wanted and loved whenever he was around you. Sometimes, this caused the filter between his brain and his mouth to thin, allowing whatever he’s thinking in that moment to slip out.

“Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes... ” he said dreamily.

Your head shot up in an instant, puzzled by the seemingly random affection, only to see Matsuda covering his lips as a dark blush began to rise on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Th-that’s not...I-“

“Honey...” you shook your head and sighed, placing your pen down flat on the desk, “That is the literal worst line ever but it sounds wonderful coming from you.”

“O-oh. Thanks?” He chuckled nervously, massaging the back of his neck as his skin became slick with sweat.

You leaned over the desk and pecked his lips before collecting your paperwork in a neat stack, placing it all carefully in your shoulder bag, careful not to bend any corners. “Why don’t I finish my work in that nice little coffee shop across the street. Join me?”

“Y-yes! I’d love to. It’s getting a little stuffy in here, anyway.”

Misa

“Ughhhhh I’m so tired! What a day!” Misa exclaimed, stretching out her arms above her head as she walked over to her folding chair. The white, feathery wings fastened to her back smacked people and equipment as she passed them, but you saw her as nothing but elegant.

Your girlfriend plopped her butt down into the fragile chair, giving Matsuda a scare when it nearly toppled over. With beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, he handed the girl her coffee.

“Aw, thanks, Matsu! And you too, (Name)! I wouldn’t be able to do any of my scenes without you guys cheering me on!”

You chuckled, cheeks turning a dusted shade of pink at Misa’s praise. “Dont give us all the credit, babe. You’re the one giving your all up there.”

Misa twisted in her chair to grab at your hand and intertwine her fingers with yours. “You’re too sweet, honey! Y’know, if it were up to me, you’d be the one wearing these wings!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I couldn’t take your place!” You said, gesturing to the fountain where Misa’s scene had just been filmed.

The blonde giggled and brought your fingers to her lips, giving them a couple kisses before shaking her head. “I meant I’d have you in these wings because you’re an absolute Angel , silly!”

Before you could even begin to respond, Matsuda beat you to it. “Aww my gosh, you guys! Could I be the best man at your wedding?”

“Hmm...” you pretended to ponder while tapping your chin with your index finger. “How do you feel about being the flower boy?”

“Done!”