#thank GOD for giving him at least one ending fairy

[favoritejohn]

the prettiest ending fairy 🧚🏻‍♂️✨️

[threepandas]

Bad End: After The War

The click of a button in a mostly quiet room. Machines humming as they churn an endless stream of data. Listening. Receiving. Filtering through the noise, for those bits of intelligence that might win us the war. The outpost was quite. As much as it could be, at least, on this god forsaken moon.

"Perimeter Check?"

More specifically, 'did you get your ass eaten by those horrifying eel-snakes? Because you promised not too, and I WILL be mad.' 'Cept, you know, these channels are technically recorded. Rather not have my snark On Record, thanks. So SUBTEXT.

The familiar, oh so melodious, demonic death screeching of abomination eels and blaster fire comes on comm. A symphony straight out of some sci-fi horror movie, act 3. The part where everybody's getting eaten. Except NOT, because this? This is just my life.

Though the eaten part is still a Very Real Risk.

Which Is FUN.

I wait. Hope I just caught Headshot at just a bad time. Not, you know, in his final moments. Ha ha... Nope! Not! Thinking 'bout that! He's immortal, I'm immortal, and we both live in a happy fun time fairy land of FUCKING WONDERS. Denial? Fuck yeah I know her! Best friend, that one. Gonna be my future kids godparent. Walk me down the aisle. We BESTIES.

There is finally, at long last, ominous silence. Dead or dying? Dead or dying? Which side, eels or Headshot, is Dead or-?

Click.

"Perimeter looks good. Bit of a mess near the east gate, though. We'll need to get the droids to shove some mess over the ledge. They tried to climb again."

Oh thank FUCK. Tension bleeds out of me. This post is hell on my anxiety. I send back the confirm. Slump back on my seat as I keep an eye on his tracker's dot, on the patrol read out. I fucking HATE perimeter checks. They aren't safe. But... well...

This universe? I'm pretty sure, it's an "all the serial numbers filed off" blatant rip off of Star Wars. Might be a fan fiction? Cause, while the troupes are familiar, the "characters", no one is where or WHO they should be. There are also other "totally not X" bits here and there, all of which confuses the fuck out me.

But what I DO know? Is that making a fuss about the safety and well-being of us peons? During this, the "totally not the Clone Wars"? While Evil Dick, Sith-y Pants the Obvious is in charge? GREAT way for our entire outpost to get "tragic casualties of war"-'d. So yeah, no thanks.

Keeping my mouth shut.

And, hey! At least they ate our complete asshole of a commander. Technically we SHOULD be getting a new one... but we were told to make do. Same with all the OTHER critical roles currently empty.

The DICK.

Like? I know he wants to drag out the war and maximize suffering for Evil Not-Sith, Off Brand Space Wizards Of EVIL Powers? But like? Fffffuck yoooou, dude. What the hell. Hope he stubs EVERY toe, always.

The Clones deserve better then this. The SECOND the war is over? I'm stealing Headshot. Fuck this "property of the state" bullshit. Just me 'n him, man. We could go explore the wilds. Or get him a beard and fake glasses. Clone? What clone! This is my BROTHER, Headshot. Our parents were gun-toting hippies. My names Moonrock. Fuck off, maybe. Keep walking.

The second I see him cross the base threshold, I switch over to Droid command. They can't hold my shift forever, but for a bit? Should be fine.

Jogging down the hall and sliding down a few ladders, I finally catch sight of Headshot as he leaves the staging area. Oof. That is a LOT of eel blood. The cleaning bots are cursing up a storm as they follow him. Even from the other end of the hallway... he smells... ripe.

I give him a second to lead the way and for the bots to work behind him. Then join in the little parade. Ah, eel goo. The third worst thing that could come out of going outside. Right behind losing a limb or dying. But hey! I restocked the soaps for ya!

"Doesn't change that it's on my everywhere, Commander."

Oooooh~ breaking out the COMMANDER are we? Is that SASS I hear? Snark perhaps? Why HEADSHOT! Such insubordination~! What EVER shall I do?

He snorts and suggest something anatomically impossible as he gestures to the shower rooms door. I tap it open for him. Goo boy that he is. Grinning I follow and find a bench where I can sit so my back is to him. It... used to be weird, to be honest, this level of living in each others pockets. But time and isolation has eroded a lot.

Clones don't really see boundaries like everyone else. Don't have the same taboos or unspoken social rules. After all... they're all the same gender. Were forced to live basicly in a breadbox with each other. The culture that developed reflects that. And I? Am more of a follower then a "type A". Not passive by any stretch of the imagination, just... eh.

I don't have the social outgoing-ness? I guess? To drag the culture of our base towards MY social norms as opposed towards his. It made him comfortable. I shrugged and went okay. Rinse and repeat. To be honest I was just glad he trusted me enough to SHARE.

Booting up my definitely-not-a-tablet, (which is of course, STUFFED full of various bits of sci-fi technology that only half makes sense) I once again try and connect to the wider army's mainframe. Nothing. I've BEEN trying for weeks now. But for some reason? We're cut off.

No new commands. No new forms to fill. No demands for information.

No UPDATES on what the FUCK is HAPPENING out there.

I'm... not gonna lie, getting nervous. We're a listening outpost. Some of our information is time sensitive. And our SUPPLIES are not infinite. Forget food, if we run out of AMMO? Those nightmare snake-eel THINGS will... Look, long and short of it? I've got an "empty" blaster shoved under my bunk. Two shots left. And compared to the slow, SLOW digestion and meat threshing teeth those horrors have?

At least it's FAST.

But I would REALLY prefer we NOT fucking come to that, you know? That someone would fucking PICK UP. Or? I don't know!? Notice we're offline? Whatever the problem is! The fact that we've gone dark is SPOOKING the fuck out of me.

Not to mention? That even BEFORE communication went down? The chat rooms and update boards weren't making a whole lot of sense. Lot of clone specific references that I didn't get. Memes, maybe? I don't KNOW and that's the part that's killing me. I had no way to CHECK. It all just... went dark.

We're still GETTING data. But? We can't seem to SEND it. Headshot and I checked. I checked the droids while he got the dish and other external devices. Clambering around the roof with his sniper rifle like a well armed, circus trained, mechanic. Nothing was wrong with the droids. And according to Headshot? Nothing was wrong with the dish.

After a while I gave up. Again.

Reminded myself to practice my meditative breathing. In... out... IN... OUT... do NOT trough your only Data Tablet. You'll break it. You can't REPLACE it. It might FEEL satisfying in the moment... but it's Not Worth It. Just listen to the sound of the running water. The quite of the room. Breathe... unclench your jaw, make your muscles relax, c'mon you can do this.

Fuck, I needed my anti-anxiety meds. But we were starting to ween me off them so I didn't go cold turkey when we ran out. It was fucking with my head. But, hey! At least I wouldn't run the risk of seizures! Or any suicidal ideation! No, just slowly building anxiety, in this, History's Most Stressful Outpost.

The shower shut off behind me. Leaning forward to grab a towel from the stack, I tossed it blindly over my shoulder. Heard him catch it. Wet feet slapping quietly against tiles as he walked forward, drying himself. From the feel of droplets and heat, looming just behind me? He was leaning over my shoulder. The man always did like to damn near boil himself in the shower.

"Still nothing? We've run out of D6 bolts. Not to mention your meds..." He commented, still drying off. I could feel the occasional brush of a towel. A bare arm reached over my shoulder to tap at the screen. "Have you tried...? Shit."

He tried several commands. Leaning over me, damn near cradling the back of my head against his bare chest. But nothing worked. Plopping his chin down on the top of my head, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his weight on me as he considered the problem. The fans kicked in overhead, dehumidifing and hopefully preventing any sort of alien molds.

I told him to go put on some fuckin pants, before he frozen something he might miss off.

With an amused snort he stood and wandered over to the armor cleaner. Grabbing a new undersuit. Blacks went on, armor freshly de-goo-d, he called that he was presentable once more. I swung my legs over the bench. No need to stand, after all, if we're not leaving yet. Besides, exhaustion was a symptom of the withdrawals. Med changes are a BITCH.

Just as I was about to suggest anough brainstorming session, though?

Our comms both ping. LOUDLY.

That's the emergency signal from the control room. SHIT. I'm up and running before the sound even fades. Headshot right behind me. Not so much because he can't out run me, as he'd stop to grab his weapons as was bringing up the rear. Guarding my back. I prayed, PRAYED, this wasn't an attack. We were supposed to be a fourteen person team.

There were TWO OF US.

We'd never be able to hold the line. Would DIE here. Fuck, I didn't even have time to get that gun! I should have been carrying it. It had been too morbid. But... but...!

I slam into the control room. Headshot a half step behind. The droids frantically churning away. Okay. Okay! What's happening? A ship, big one, in orbit. Oooooh fuck. How Big? I ask. Am informed? "Wipe us from the face of the galaxy" Big. Ha ha! FUCKING FANTASTIC. Great! Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess! Okay. Okay!

Let's DO this.

Get on the short range ship comm, (never thought I'd USE it but here we fucking ARE) and ask, politely, for them to Fucking Identify Themselves. (Because we have Big Guns and are NOT afraid to use um!)

There is a long tense moment. Then? Oh thank merciful FUCK. A Clone's voice comes on the line. General Spark of the 153rd, in pursuit, they're here to catch traitors and resupply if we need anything. Permission to land a few ships?

I. Could. WEEP.

Yes! Oh, ABSOLUTELY yes! Whoever they're chasing picked a REALLY stupid planet to hide out on, not gonna lie. They'll be picking their traitors up in PIECES. But? Never has a voice been more beautiful. Send Techs! You have FULL use of the outpost General! Welcome!

Setting the droids to navigating the incoming ships safely through landing, I all but DRAG Headshot towards the landing pad. People! Actual, real, PEOPLE! Supplies! Oh thank FUCK! We might be able to figure out what wrong with our relays! Get NEWS! And? That was a CLONE GENERAL!!!

That NEVER happens!

I can practically feel my self vibrating with excitement. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, as the ships come in for a landing. The officers that roll out are all clones. Their armor more personalized then I've ever seen it. It's BEAUTIFUL. I can't help but lean over and whisper to Headshot, saying as much. Wondering if we can get him some of the supplies they must of used.

You know, assuming he WANTS any of um.

If not? Dibs.

His shoulders are shaking. Why are-? One of the officers thanks me for the compliment. Headshot you SON OF A SUBSTANDARD VAT. Was your SHORT RANGE MIC ON!? Why would you not-!? Bastard! Dead to me! Sorry general, I've never met this man before in my LIFE. Couldn't introduce if I TRIED.

Still! High ranking clones? We love to see it. I am THRILLED. It's been long over due.

Dooooesn't mean we should hang out in Eel Country though. Everybody INSIDE! Let's goooo. Nice and safe, where no ones getting eaten, m'kay? Thank you! And yes! I DO have a list of resupply needs! A LONG list. Starting with my meds, followed by ammo. Though honestly they're tied at first...

As me and the, now rather concerned, medic chat about the collapsing state of our highly rationed medical supplies? Headshot and the General are off to the side... talking about... something. Not sure. Probably not important, or he'd include me. I show the medic our "infirmary" and medical charts. Then get pulled away by the mechanic.

I barely get to SEE Headshot over the next two days. Forget sitting down. The only breaks I get? Meals and lights out. It's kinda awesome. Exhausting, yes, but? After so long isolated? It's a good type of exhausted. The sort where you feel like? For ONCE? You're actually being productive.

There are SO MANY eel burrows to scan? Potential landing sites? And all the MAINTENANCE? Dear merciful FUCK. Literally everything is out of date and cheap as BALLS. Held together with shoe strings and a prayer. But finally! FINALLY! Someone in budgeting GIVES A SHIT!!! Better equipment! Actual medical supplies! Real bedding! And best of ALL?

AIs! As in Actual, information sorting, artificial intelligences!

Because there literally hasn't been a REASON for humanoids to do this job for CENTURIES aside from a misplaced sense of superiority and distrust of droids! All WE need to do? Is stay on base and make sure THEY don't go rogue or break down from the extended isolation! Woooo desk job!

I'm gonna name um. They shall be my BABIES.

That said? None of this? Is very... Off Brand Sith-y. Little too "cares about their fellow man"-ish, you know? And... I'm not stupid. Excited as FUCK, for all the supplies and new changes... but not? Stupid. Blind.

They're keeping me away from the control room.

Keeping me out of important discussions. Sending me off on errands. All of which? SEEM important. ARE important, on the surface, but hide the fact that they are intentionally scheduled? Just as Certain Things Are Discussed. I am being... handled. Like a child. A fool.

When I confront Headshot? In our bunkroom, which we've shared for YEARS at this point. Slept just across from each other, so this lonely hell might feel just a little less empty? So when the dark thoughts creep in? That we might die in this God forsaken place, forgotten by the universe, left to ROT here, and wouldn't it just be easier to-? Someone there, so we won't. So we still matter.

He stands across from me. In OUR place. OUR room.

And FUCKING LIES.

......I guess I know where I stand, huh? And I know... I KNOW, I shouldn't feel betrayed. Clones come first, always. That's the party line. How they survived. I'm a Nat. There was always a power imbalance between us. I would always have been held just that bit further away then one of the brothers. Guess... guess it just finally happened.

I shouldn't feel betrayed. I have no RIGHT to feel betrayed.

But I do.

Headshot looks alarmed, hands twitching at his side, even as he tries to maintain his facade. Nothing's happing. They aren't doing anything. Right. Uh huh. His lie sits between us like a field of broken glass. The words, the arguments, I'd been looking for now seeming so useless. What's the point? He's made his decision.

I feel like crying. Don't want to talk anymore.

Good NIGHT, Headshot.

In the morning, I don't bother asking. I know he notices. Is waiting, restless, for us to continue on as we always have. We always check schedules after all. But what's the point? He'll lie. Instead I pull my armor on and go. Go to your brothers, Headshot. Whatever's happening here, I'm clearly not trusted enough to be part of it.

I just get out of your way.

There's a lot of busy work on my schedule, but honestly? The new AIs are learning to handle it. Instead, I head down to the new supply crates. Grab some bedding. A cart. Then head back. Pack up my shit. I just... can't.

Moving it all to a different bunk, I still have most of the day left to go. Could...? Probably? Check out if we actually DO have space rats? The droids have been reporting dust and noise in the basement, near the food stores. So likely vermin of some kind. Gonna be horrifying to find out what kind of vermin exsist HERE, but better then nothing, I guess.

Grabbing one of the better ration bars to shove in my face on the way to the gun locker, I count it a breakfast. Everyone's busy with a clone only meeting. Good for them, I guess. Not upset with General Spark or his men, I realize, as I check over the gun, no... just Headshot. Because he hurt me.

All he had to say was "I can't tell you." Or "trust me" and I WOULD have. But no. He LIED. To my FACE. And now? Now I feel like I'm waking around with shards of glass where my heart should be. Like I want to hit something. I need a distraction. So down to long term storage I go.

Normally? It's only droids down here. I have to ride a cramped little maintenance elevator lined with blast doors. You know, incase Satan's favorite pet somehow burrows in. The fuckers. It's also freezing. Which, I mean? Great for food storage, not so much for thermal regulation.

The level is eerie quiet.

Which.... huh. That's? Not right.

I reach for my comm before pausing. The hurt in my chest throbbing. I know I shouldn't let it get in the way of professionalism. Of protocol. The rules are there for a reason. To keep us alive and safe. But... God, I don't want to hear his fucking voice right now. I might cry. Say something I don't mean and regret later. You don't LAST long, isolated out in Hellpit, Nowhere, without doing a little soul searching.

Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

My hand drops. It's fine. I'm FINE. There's nothing down here. Or, well, should be nothing down here. We'll find out.

Slowly moving forward, I begin to check the stacks. I don't see any of the droids. Don't HEAR any of them. There should be at least thirty down here. But all I hear? Is the circulation fans. The sound of my foot steps. Something isn't right.

It's a loose, half melted screw in the path that saves me. At first I think it's a bug. But the quite clink when my foot nudges it is unmistakable. It makes me look sideways. There, a cleaning droid, cut down from behind. Tiny little mechanical claws still reaching out to claw itself to safety. Wheels shredded. The marks of a lazer blade are unmistakable.

The hiss-hum even more so.

I BARELY dodge.

Half my gun, simply sheared away. Molten slag dripping from the cut point, the battery already violently destabilizing ask it's nicked. I throw it, before I have the chance to lose a limb. The blast takes out a crate. I'm thrown. Barely roll in time to dodge the downward stab of the hissing blade. A brutal, magic-enhanced, kick sends me flying.

Straight through a stack of ration crates, into a wall mounted medical case. I land among the corpses of the droids. Each, a picture of terror and betrayal. I don't understand what's happening. The blades not red or black! It's blue! That's a not-jedi! Right?! Why are they!? Crates are lifted into the air. Threatening to smash down and bury me alive.

Can't move. Something twisted, badly, in my leg. My chest burning. Something cracked, I could feel it. I'm gonna die. Oh good, I'm gonna DIE.

"Wait! She's not a clone!"

I stare up into the face of the so called "good guys" and feel nothing but terror. Around me, the pieces of thirty droids I'd named and known, dead and dumped like trash upon the ground. Flower with his fussy need to have everything just so, Chirp who loved to sing, Mouse with the wheel I could never get to stop squeeking.

Nothing but Cannon fodder.

They died so afraid.

"Oh! You're right! Sorry! I thought you were one of those 'peating bastards. Are you okay? How long have they held you?" The Knight said. His Apprentice nodding eagerly.

My brain was static. Empty. Held? Slurs? W-what in God's name? I stayed down. Feeling small, lost, and confused. Pain rocking my body from being thrown around. The Apprentice, at least, seemed to pick up on the fact that I had no idea what the fuck they were on about.

"Ah. You don't know what's happened." She said sympathetically. It would be nicer, if she hadn't stood back while I was hurt, before they got around to asking who's side I was on. "The Clones betrayed the Republic. Took it over by force. They've made an empire. They killed the old Chancellor, who was Fallen, but then instead of handing the Republic back to the people? Kept it! Said we couldn't be trusted with it."

The last part was said mockingly. As though everyone and their brother hadn't been aware the Republic was on the brink of collapse. Corruption at an all time high. As though that same Republic hadn't been using the Clones as a SLAVE ARMY.

Slaves do tend to take exception to their chains, historically.

I wasn't really sure why the fuck they were surprised.

"Now come on, you can join the Rebellion. You must know all sort of information, from sitting out here, right? You can-!"

Click.

My helmet went full dark and internal audio only. Which was interesting because I still could barely move. But then bright light and sound, popped and cracked not to far away from my head. A flash grenade. And I finally, FINALLY? Remembered that all standardized armor? Comes with in built life support feeds.

Headshot's mystery meeting was in the command room... where my life sign readout would be. The life support feedback. Real time monitoring from me getting my ass kicked and WHERE.

A hand grabs the drag handle built into each armor, for EXACTLY this reason, and I feel my self pulled out of the danger zone. Can hear heavy, open fire. Shit. There goes our supplies. My helmet clears and I recognize the shoulder I've been careful thrown over. Headshot. He came.

He falls back at some signal I can't see. Straight to the elevator.

The shoulder under me is shaking, just slightly. Adrenaline, fear, anger. I can't tell. But... I... I'm...

"Don't." His voice is rough. Choked out through gritted teeth. His grip just carefully loose enough not to bruise. It seems to be taking everything he has. "You don't get to die. Do you understand me? You're not ALLOWED to die. Not now. Not ever. We didn't survive this long for you to leave me now."

He barely waits long enough for the door to open. Stride smooth and desperate as he races us towards the medic. I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe. Let myself be manhandled. Ha ha... a-at least? I know what he's keeping from me now. So there's that. Ow. Oh god.

The medic has to put me under. Bone fragments.

I drift.

Wake up, bandaged to hell and back, in ou-... in Headshot's bunkroom. Across from the empty bunk that used to be mine. Bed's softer then it should be, still smelling like Headshot. We haven't had the new sheets long enough. Knowing him, he probably stacked um.

The door opens. Headshot stalks in, dragging a cart behind him. His usual "pleasantly amused by life" expression nowhere to be seen. Instead? His expression is... blank. A determined, almost violent, edge to the set of his shoulders.

In silence, I watch as he unloads the cart. Bedding, knickknacks, the various bit of cobbled together wall art. All carefully stuck right back where it had been before. As though he had memorized the proper location of each and every piece. Even as he worked, with his back to me, every line of his body was daring me to be dumb enough to argue.

I didn't want too. I was just... just fucking tired.

Didn't like that we were arguing. If that was even what we were doing.

"Why?" I asked. Summing up everything and distilling it. Why didn't you just fucking TELL me? Why didn't you TRUST me? Why did you think I'd turn on you? Why would you lie? Why were we cut off? Was it REALLY a technical error? Why take the Republic? Why ANY of this?

Just... WHY, Headshot? Please...

"I refuse to lose you. When the war ended, you were going to leave. You said you'd take me with you... but honestly? That was naive. There would be no where safe we could ever go. We all knew that. We all had favorites." He finally stopped organizing my bed. Instead, smoothing down the sheet. Running both hands across it as he stared down, unseeing. "It was all so unorganized. Filthy. They treated us like DIRT. But we were... we ARE better. Designed to be superior. Stronger, smarter, faster. More durable. Why were we listening to them?"

"Then we found out why. Control chips in the brain. The nervous system. Carefully hidden, yes. But not carefully enough. You weren't authorized, you know. I'm glad. If you had been? I'd never have forgiven you. You'd never know you were dead before you died. But... I promise."

"I would have made it fast." His smile was a terrible thing. All broken edges and betrayal. Teeth upon teeth. A mania finally set free.

"Never thought those hypocrites would run here. Expect us to die for them. The happy little slaves. For the glory of THEIR Republic. You'll be okay, Commander. The General's agreed to stay until your back on your feet, just in case."

Headshot slides onto the bunk, sitting at my side, sweetly brushing hair from my face as though he hasn't lost his god damned mind. He's the picture of relief, now that there's no more secrets between us. Now that I'm injured and dependent on his help. Yet... it's teetering.

As though at any minute...

He could slide into some... unhinged state of mind. How LONG has he been on his last thread? Barely holding together? He leans forward and my mind goes utterly still. His lips pressed gently against mine. Chaste. Sweet. A warm, calloused hand, cradling my poor bruised cheek.

"I promise we'll stay together." He whispers against my stunned mouth. Eyes intent and mad, utterly loving. Like a strangers. "I won't let them seperate us. Not for anything. Now that it's done? We can be assigned anywhere. I'll take you with me. War's over, love. We're finally free."

Were we?

[osamucide]

⊹ YOU CAN BE THE BOSS

ACT I: HE HAD A CIGARETTE WITH HIS NUMBER ON IT.

wc: 3.1k

cw: alternate universe, pm boss!dazai, pm+gn!afab!reader, alcohol, cigarettes, implied/referenced drug use, canon-typical violence and referenced violence, implied/referenced ilicit activities including but not limited to prostitution, extortion, drug dealing, and fraud, kind of exposition heavy+not proofread sorry, more specific chapter warnings to come with each

reid: after losing almost all of it, chapter one is here! i hope you enjoy - im excited for whats to come. do let me know where you see this going, and if you'd liked tagged <3

⊹ SCENE I: He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?”

You consider it with an interest masked well-enough by years of practiced stoicism. If there’s one thing the mafia has taught you, it’s to never give anything up easily—not your money, not your body, not your time, not your interest. But the end of the filter touts a brand you've never heard of before, and the man who holds it in your direction, hands deceivingly delicate, is almost too well-known to you.

You are already smoking a cigarette of your own (albeit a brand likely far cheaper and less foreign), but then you spot the writing. A phone number.

Your eyes flick up to his. Dark. Dark as the night you stand in on the rooftop. The lights from the LED floor below, twitching with color, paint him deep red for a moment.

You bow only slightly, as smoothly as you can—that was the first thing you probably should've done, would’ve done if you weren’t a few cocktails deep, but the smirk already on his face—one you knew for a fact you’ve never seen through his own rehearsed mask throughout all the years you’ve worked for him—just cracks deeper.

"Boss," you address him, shuffling your drink into the same hand as your lit smoke before reaching to take the unlit invitation. "Need me to run it?" The number, you mean. Regardless of what implications are initially prompted by a phone number, you settle it on taking it as he needs it traced immediately, and you need to settle on something before you start stuttering at where the nuances of this seconds-long interaction have taken your silly little brain so far. You were mostly on the ground, giving up time and other things when and where you needed in order to get what you wanted—what you needed, and more importantly what the Port Mafia needed, but you'd skulked around intelligence enough to know standard prodecure, and right now you have, at the very least, your personal device and your work phone on you. You were nearby. He had a job for you. For someone. For anyone. That's all.

"No, no," he speaks in a cadence like a fairy jumping from one cloud to another as he taps his own smoke out of the pack. He feels his pockets and looks to you. "My personal phone number. Light?”

Oh, you almost verbalize it, but you're tucking the information in your shirt pocket so quickly and absentmindedly at the following command (if you could even call it a command—it's more a request, but anything he might ask of you, especially directly, certainly holds the weight of a command) before scrambling for your lighter. Any assignment you might be sent on would regularly be passed from him to one of the executives to a subexecutive to your division leader to you, never skipping those middlemen. You hardly ever met with the man who employed you throughout your years at the Port—you could count on less than one hand the times you had—so you look to him, confused, as you open a flame for him, but he just leans forward, dark eyes lit and melted brown for a single second as he cups a lithe hand around the end of the cigarette and puffs, puffs, silently. He almost looks like a kid. Not a god. Just a twenty-something in some club lights. But he is, indeed, more than that, you know. The first bit of smoke flies toward your face. You feel the need to step back, but he does first.

That relaxed, cryptic half-smile returns as he nods his thanks.

You bow again, so shallowly it feels like a crime—even, or maybe especially, among the company you're in—before you can flinch at the realization of where you are, what you're doing, who exactly is in front of you.

You drink often, sure, but clubbing is a luxury, and clubbing in one of Yokohama's most exclusive rooftop lounges is even more rare to come by, but the Port had recently made consequential strides in swaying a legislation to expand on both the individual and business rights of ability users, and the boss—the very man in front of you, who used successes like this as an excuse to get fucked up just as much as anyone else in the organization—is now putting his subexecs as well as his political allies and prospects up in hotels, buying them hundred-thousand yen bottles of wine, hooking everyone up with the best drugs for the low, showing his fucking face and painting himself as best businessman he can possibly be and if you're honest, the subtlety so coy it's almost theatrical and that sick little smile he wears would’ve worked on you if you weren’t so lost. He's notoriously cunning, always had been, even when he was young. His displays of grandeur, penchant for the dramatic—you certainly wouldn’t be alone in saying it only makes him more terrifying.

You're going to chalk it up in your liquor-fuzzed brain to just that—the fuzz of the liquor. But he doesn't seem especially intoxicated, nor has he done anything especially attention-stealing, and yet, here you are, lips parted for words as you watch a ring of smoke curl around him. You feel stupid for thinking he’s ever looked in your direction before this moment. Maybe he doesn't even realize you're one of his employees.

But no, all of what he does, and this you know about him, even if you're unsure what he knows about you, none of it is without motive. So you wonder what his aim is here.

“Pardon me, sir,” you continue, slowly, mindful that your tongue might be a little loose. Not like you socialized with many people on occasions such as this, let alone your boss. The boss. “But for what?”

He looks briefly as if he doesn't hear you. With his face turned to the sky and the filter on his lips, you do your best not to stare. The lights are not doing his sharp features any disservice.

“To call me.”

You wind yourself tight so you don't reel. He says it so casually; he examines the smoke between his fingers like it's an expensive piece of jewelry. A tremble threatens you. You're glad he's still turned to the stars. A pull off your cigarette, a sip of your drink. An inaudible sigh of amazement. Confusion.

The world becomes red from below again as his eyes slide back to yours.

“You’ll call me,” his voice softens in a way that catches you off-guard more than anything else he’s done thus far, “right?”

You try to recount everything you’ve done over the past few years. Surely this isn’t a ploy, right? Your loyalty to the Port is virtually unwavering. If you’d done anything wrong, you weren’t aware of it. In fact, you pride yourself on how many fingers you still have compared to how many you've seen cut off at the first knuckle. Still, he was famed in his youth for his capability to torture without mercy. You’ve seen plenty, but even you hate to imagine some of the things you've heard.

Your pounding pulse registers in your consciousness; you've pinched the filter of your cigarette so long that it’s gone out. What can you say? Or rather, what can’t you say? You must look exceptionally thoughtful in the lifetime-long space of the half-second it actually takes you to respond because, really, whether you want to or not, whether it dragged anxiety up your throat, you would do it anyway. How are you supposed to say no to the man in front of you, the leader of the Port Mafia, or worse—lie and not follow through? That itself might warrant some sort of accusation. Some sort of trouble you don't want. If you knew for a fact it was that, truthfully, you would've thrown yourself at his feet like a dog and began apologizing immediately.

But no, this would be roundabout, even for him. He's extravagant, but he's mechanical, too. A grandiose machine. He could shoot you between your eyes right now and maintain his balance, his image, whatever he wants. If he wanted you dead, you suppose you wouldn’t be standing against the rooftop railing with the sweat of your drink dripping through your fingers. So you answer, dutifully.

“Yes, sir.”

And in your good training you even raise the corners of your lips to mirror his. A defensive move away from a man you should probably feel safer with than you do. Your boss. The boss.

Defensive. For what?

Cryptic. He smiles again, vacant and chilling. You can only hope you hold enough of an air to match.

And he disappears back into the pulsing nightlife as wordlessly as he’d emerged from it. Only after he's gone do you let yourself look aghast. Your lips, slightly parted. Your smoke, tamped. The ice in your drink watering it down. Your eyes unfocused. You feel suddenly more drunk, and you didn’t know if it's for better or for worse.

It isn't really complicated—the reason you're with the mafia. You're resilient and hardworking and you're too aware that traditional routes of employment are decreasingly offering security to honest people with drive anymore and all the more, honestly, you’ve been slipping through the cracks for as long as you can remember. Although you have scars to show for it and a list of dirty laundry to do each week, the Port has yet to steer you wrong. Your integrity is celebrated. You justify a whole hell of a lot of what you do by telling yourself it isn’t all bad—the legislation that would come to pass soon, for example, largely thanks to the influence of the leaders of your faction, would benefit more gifteds around Yokohama—throughout Japan, even—than just those in the mafia. You understand yourself as a common person doing what you need to get by, and really, who wasn't? Your work gets done with the interest of the unfortunate majority you've always been a part of in mind, more than any stuffy office job could ever claim to be.

And your boss, for as horrifying of a man as he's known to be, runs an operation that's put more money in your pocket in the last few years than working your way up the ladder of some miserable corporate office would in a lifetime. You're comfortable. Safe, by your own standards. Happy, even, after your few and fair promotions within your division over the years.

Happy as you can be, anyway. And maybe that’s what this is: another promotion, if it wasn't an invitation to get your ass beat on your personal time. Everything about either of those seems more likely than an opportunity to get anywhere near him on equal ground or whatever lit up in your brain at first before you shoved it down, turned it off like the good soldier you are. Your stomach twists either way. You imagine your name after the title division leader.

So you’ll call him. But right now, you down the rest of your drink and seek out the bar—the open bar which he had paid for for the entire night—sure to tumble yourself into overserved territory with one more.

"Same thing." You waggle your empty glass at the bartender as one of your divisionmates stumbles to your side, drink of her own empty in her hand.

Her name is Iyomi, and you've had enough amicable interactions with her to consider her a friend. Maybe that's stupid in the mafia; it certainly goes against your original philosophy—from some years ago when you were younger and maybe even more jaded than you were now—which was that you were here to fly solo, get your work done, stay quiet, and find time to repair the parts of yourself you had so long sought the stability in order to do. But you're older now—still jaded, undoubtedly, but you've lost that certain determination that's only available to the youth; anymore, you feel a hopelessness about you that grows like a tumor, and it makes things difficult to take seriously. You're dying, and so is everyone, and that's why you will let yourself get so wasted tonight. Your bartender slides your glass back to you, and Iyomi latches onto your arm.

"Is that—was—were you just talking to the boss?" She slurs loudly and incredulously, and you hush her, hush her, laugh because you can't help it, hush her again. She moves on soon enough; she's swaying, flagging down the bartender, complaining that she hasn't been able to find her friend and her drinks have not been strong enough all evening, but even in the state you're in, you consider motioning for someone to fill her glass with water instead of whatever neon blue concoction she's been downing.

When you shuffle back to your post on the railing to light another cigarette (not the one with the number on it, pointedly), Iyomi follows you like a loyal dog. It's a bit endearing, how you're seasoned enough in your work that newer recruits tend to look up to you—people like Iyomi soften your stony heart a bit, so you let her start up again.

"That's—I don't think I've ever even spoken to him, like, ever—like, what was he—bleh!" She waves your smoke away from her face as it stings her eyes and puts a few inches between you; granted, she was falling all over you. You can't help your smile.

"It was nothing. Tell you the truth, I think he's as drunk as the rest of us," you said. You remind yourself to relax a little to avoid incrimination on behalf of your shaking hands. You could probably play it off as the nicotine, but Iyomi's too plastered to notice anyway.

"So strange!" she giggles, adopting your pose—elbows rested on the rail, feet crossed at the ankle. "Anyway, I saw Akane dancing with one of Nakahara's subexecs, and I wasn't gonna say anything but I think they left together and I..."

She continues to chatter in the sweet voice of hers, and you scan the rooftop for any sign of the boss. He's disappeared. It was about the time of the night (or morning, rather) when people were doubling over sick, passing out in their VIP seating, damning themselves to a tomorrow of work with a thrumming hangover. You decide you'll help yourself to a few more drinks, maybe dance with Iyomi, and then go home. The cigarette in your suit jacket pocket is heavy like a gun.

⊹ SCENE II: . . . I knew it was wrong, but I palmed it.

If you're honest—which you are often, as previously established (your correspondence with Iyomi last night aside)—you can't remember getting back to your apartment.

You remember very well talking to the boss. You remember agreeing to call him. You remember smoking cigarette after cigarette until you finally did leave, but the leaving itself is blurry—you think you'd walked most if not all the way back if your sore calf muscles were anything to go by, but you end up fishing a crumpled train ticket out of your jacket pocket the next morning with the cigarette.

The cigarette. You let it roll side to side in your palm before it settles.

The writing is less than neat, but impressive enough for obivously being done on the tubing after it was rolled. Treasurer is what the filter reads, beneath an elegant printed seal. Unknown brand of pen ink disregarded, you briefly wonder about the monetary value of the thing in your hand. He's daunting to you—the boss and all his wealth and influence, even in the privacy of your home.

After tucking it neatly between two books on the decorative table near your slider, you shake the feeling and go about your day.

It's less than notable. You run into colleagues who were shitfaced just six hours ago. Some are very obviously still hopped up on something. You flash your teeth and play nice with everyone, just as always, despite the slight headache thumping at the inside of your skull. You're usually never achy after a night of indulging—it had to be all those damn cigarettes you smoked.

You do your little to-do's. You go represent your division at a meeting in a bar with your branch's subexec, and you're surprised to see the executive your division falls under there—her name is Koyou, and she's a stunning woman with scarlet hair and a voice that's always set you slightly on edge. She never says much, and this meeting is no different; she nods, she hums, she drinks a glass of wine and speaks a total of seven words before you're dismissed. You follow up with your division leader on the meeting—routine reporting, monthly headcount, housecleaning—as well as some paperwork about a small foreign syndicate your division had been assigned to sniff out. Everything's in order and nothing's come of the group. Not yet, anyway. Everyone's in good spirits in light of the recent private endorsement. Your overtime pay could increase soon enough, so it's enough to keep you regarding your associates with pleasantries throughout the day.

And you get home, unreasonably tired from scampering around the bars the rest of the evening. You had little to drink, only one at each, but you're warm enough and your headache's disappeared completely and you remember the cigarette on your little table.

The sliding door leads out to a balcony—a modest one, but it allows you to recline with a smoke, so it's all you'll ever need.

You're seated when you glare down the number again. Your pack is on the little table—the one outside, almost identical to the one just inside your door but more built for withstanding the elements—but you punch the number into your contacts and snatch up your lighter before you can wonder if the next day is too soon. Or, if any longer would lack punctuality and respect for the boss's time. Or what this is at all. What are you doing?

You almost feel stupid again as your thumb hovers over the "call" button. This is something you will have to face. This is something you will have to do. Isn't it?

You stick the filter of the Treasurer between your lips and flick your lighter. The 0 at the end of the number goes up in ash.

And it rings.

It rings a few times, and you don't expect anything other than that from here on out. In fact, through your first puff off this exquisite tobacco, you resign yourself to lowering all your expectations for this. You're nervous in one way, but you're dying in another. Maybe either your hands are holding the thing that'll do it. Whatever. You're tipsy enough. It's nighttime and no one can see you but God.

You're ashing the Treasurer into your tray as the line clicks and your name is spoken in a voice you can't mistake. One that, too, sets you on edge. But you play the part right now, for no one but yourself. Maybe for God.

"Boss," you respond, softly, dutifully. Your smoke dissipates on the quiet breeze.

"I'm glad you called."

[tsumtsumrry]

Friends to lovers Harry styles? I was thinking Harry and the reader have been best friends for years with cute traditions like coffee on certain days or book clubs. Overall they know each other inside out and spend a lot of time together. There’s some tension bc harry is very obviously in love with the reader however she’s the only one who doesn’t see it. Despite the fact she feels the same she’s scared because she doesn’t believe he could feels the same. Maybe it could get a little angsty but with a happy ending pls! Thank you!

thank you very much for the request!! anyone who knows me knows that friends to lovers is my jam, so this was very very fun to write. hope you enjoy <3 (barely proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes!)

“Well have you tried unplugging it and plugging it back in?” Harry suggests as you two sit inside the pillow fort you made, two glasses of wine sitting next to your knees and the sight of your small TV bugging out in front of you. 

You pout at your dilemma. It’s been a tradition since you two were kids to have a little quiet movie night in a cozy pillow fort. It’s not the first time your TV has been acting up recently and Harry keeps offering to buy you a new one but you always refuse. He’s too giving, that one. But god, do you admire him for it. 

“Tried that before you came, H. S’no use. Time for plan B.” you sigh at go to get up carefully to go retrieve your computer and a stool from your room.

Harry watches you with fond eyes as you go, the sparkle in his eyes that only appears when he’s looking at you evident (to everyone but you, that is). He’s almost a hundred percent sure you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, the hue of your eyes melts him, the brightness of your smile blinds him. You have the softest, most soothing aura he’s ever come across and he just wants to be with you all the time. He’s smiling like an idiot just thinking about you.

“Got the computer. What are we watching?” he jumps a little, startled out of his thoughts when you walk back into your cozy living room. He watches you intently as you calculatedly place the stool in front of the fort and the computer on top of it. He smiles fondly at you when you adjust it at least five times because “it has to be perfect” and opens his mouth to answer your question, “what are we watching?” 

You carefully sit right back down next to him and after a small beat of silence you both turn to look at each other at exactly the same time and simultaneously blurt out, “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days!” 

“Twin flame telepathy back at it again.” he pumps his fist in the air and pulls it back while you giggle. 

It doesn’t take long to set up the movie and before you know it, you’re halfway through it, cuddled up into Harry’s side with his arm snug tightly around you. You occasionally look up at him when you see something funny to see if he found it funny too, and he does the same, causing an intense bout of eye contact and laughter. 

The warm hues of your fairy lights kiss his skin in a way that makes him almost glow with warmth, the green of his eyes is so intense in this light, it almost takes your breath away. Sometimes you wish time would stop so he could be as still as he is in this moment, and you could just look at him. Just admire how truly beautiful he is. The way his eyelashes flutter when he takes in the brightness of the images forms a small knot in your stomach. You feel your mouth part and it’s only when he looks down at you that you realize your staring might feel a little weird. 

“What?” you watch his mouth form the softly spoken word. You don’t say anything so he smiles and tries again, “what?” 

“Nothing, just daydreaming.” you reply softly with a small smile. 

“Watch the movie, dude.” he scolds you playfully and you roll your eyes. 

“Sir, yes sir.” 

“So you think waffles are better than pancakes?” Harry asks one of your mutual friends, Jess incredulously. Jess nods and Harry’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “Are you kidding me? Pancakes are infinitely better than waffles. Who wants their breakfast to have craters in them, Jess? I mean c’mon. Tell them, babe. Pancakes are better.” He motions to you and your eyes widen, not wanting to get in between what is clearly such an important, heated discussion. 

“Pancakes.” you finalize with a small laugh. Harry smacks his hand on the table in triumph and points at Jess, who rolls their eyes at his antics. “S’two against one. Can’t beat that. Them’s the rules, toots.” 

You’re in a fit of giggles at this point, you’ve always loved the way he talked. He had this dry humor that utilized his unique vocabulary and it never failed to amuse you. 

He turns to look at you, scooting closer and slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Can always count on you can’t I, honey?” he smirks and shrugs you closer to him to press a messy kiss on the side of your head. 

You shudder violently and your hand immediately shoots up to wipe at your head, “ew, Harry!” you whine and he throws his head back to laugh. 

Everyone is just staring at the two of you fondly, your bond is something unmatched. The pure passion that you two display when you look at each other is unlike anything most of your friends have seen before. Everyone can see the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you. It’s lost on them how you can’t. They just wish you two would finally man up and come to terms with it. 

He leans down way too close to your ear, his lips oh so faintly brushing against your skin, the laughter ceases almost immediately and it feels like time just stops. 

“You know you love me, sweet girl.” 

It takes everything in you not to let your body melt into his and flutter your eyes shut at the closeness and warmth of his touch. Even the faintest touch makes you nearly lose yourself, you can’t imagine what a real touch would do to you. 

You pull yourself together enough to respond, “yes, yes unfortunately I do. Freaking man child.” 

He laughs again and just hugs you closer. 

H: Sweetheaaart. Where could you possibly be other than with me? 

H: That rhymed. 

H: Gonna pretend that it was intentional.

You: Lol you’ve got the wrong day, H. We’re meeting tomorrow x 

H: Yes but I still would looovee to see you today. 

You: I’ve got plaaans. 

H: Spill. 

Harry bites his lip nervously as he sends the message. He’s been talking to some mutual friends of yours and they’ve had the bright idea to set you up with someone this week. They’ve been trying to push Harry to make a move on you for years and he hasn’t. Your friends say you’ve been complaining about feeling lonely in the romantic department and of course they took it upon themselves to “help”. 

He hoped that if he sought out plans with you, you’d forget about whatever silly “date” they’ve asked you to go on. 

You: A date I think. Can I call it a date? 

He sighs deeply, his whole body deflating.

H: Why wouldn’t you call it a date? 

You: I don’t know the guy and it just doesn’t feel right you know?” 

Immediately you see his face flash on your screen and feel the phone vibrating in your hands. Your brow furrows but you press the accept button and bring the phone up to your ear. 

“Don’t go.” is the first thing he says, his tone almost pleading. “If it doesn’t feel right, don’t go. You can come over to mine, we can do face masks or something. Just don’t go.” 

You sigh, seriously considering his offer, “but don’t you think I owe to myself, H? I feel like I never put myself out there you know. It’s time I’ve tried. Can’t wait around forever.” You mumble that last part, slightly turning your mouth away from the speaker. 

“What? N-nevermind. You said it didn’t feel right though.” he tries again, praying that a little coaxing can get you to not go on that date. He swears he’ll confess his feelings to you right now if that’s what it takes. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that date goes well and someone pulls the girl he’s so enamored with right from under him. He knows that if you start seeing someone things will be different, and you might tell him that they won’t be at first, but he knows they will. He absolutely cannot lose you. That’s one thing he refuses to do. Regardless of his fears. 

“Doesn’t hurt to try, right?” You almost wish he would tell you not to go again. You so desperately wish he would tell you what you want to hear. At no point before this phone call did you plan or think about making him jealous or upset at the idea of you seeing someone else, but the tortured thought is crossing your mind now. And you just wish that he’d say what you need to hear to get you to not go on that date. Your nails are digging into your palms as you anticipate his response, the tension building in your muscles. 

His mouth opens and closes. He has all the words in his head, but they hesitate to come out. 

A beat passes. 

You hear him sigh and you know he’s not going to tell you what you need to hear. 

So so close. He was so close to saying everything that needed to be out in the open for both of you, but he chickened out. 

“Right. Go for it, babe. Hope all goes well.” he forces a cheerful tone, one that he even cringes at, and usually, you know him better than that, but the tears are pooling in your eyes and threatening to fall down your cheeks; you don’t want to mess up the makeup that you’ve just done. 

“Thanks, H.” Your voice wobbles the slightest bit. Usually he knows you better, but the tears are pooling and threatening to fall down his cheeks. He presses his fingers into his palm and hangs up. 

He just stands there for a moment, a lone tear falls down his face and he immediately wipes it away, you’re too pure and precious to be the reason for his pain. He wishes he could just tell you. 

He’s been dodging you. 

You basically know his entire schedule, and you know that he’s been dodging you. 

You sigh softly as another call goes unanswered. Your heart is aching from missing your twin flame. 

The date went well, surprisingly. The guy was kind and thoughtful, he pulled your chair out for you and said all the right things, he was a great conversationalist, he was attractive. He basically checked all the boxes. Except for one. He wasn’t Harry. And you weren’t deeply in love with him. You should’ve listened to Harry that night, honestly. There’s only one person you want to be with.

You almost want to turn around after you knock on his door. You felt stupid, like you were coming here to make a fool of yourself. 

The door swings open and you sigh a breath of relief.

“Harry.” you sigh, “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” 

He nods and opens the door wider to let you in. Your arms wrap around yourself protectively in a way that they never have around him when you step inside. He notices instantly. 

That’s his breaking point. The idea that that comfort you feel in each other is being challenged by his inability to just tell you how he feels. 

He walks towards you slowly. When he’s in front of you, his hand reaches up to touch your cheek softly and you frown in confusion, “why have you been avoiding me?” you whisper, not trusting your voice when he’s touching you. 

He shakes his head, “I’ve been avoiding a lot of things, you weren’t one of them, though.” 

Your frown deepens even more, “H. What in the world are you talk—” when you realize how close he’s suddenly become, your talking ceases. He leans in further, faintly brushing his lips against yours, using his grip on your cheek to angle you in the perfect way. 

“I’ve been avoiding my feelings. My feelings for you. These intense feelings that have been just utterly consuming me lately. These feelings that I think have been there since we were kids. It’s always, always been you, babe.” he leans down one more inch, and his lips are on yours.

Soft and delicate, but so full of passion that it overwhelms you. 

He kisses you softly again, first your top lip and then your bottom lip, then leaves one more soft peck on both. 

When you pull away you’re at a loss for words. You take this moment to look at him. To really look at him and just admire. A smile makes its way onto your face that you couldn’t have possibly fought even if you tried. 

“What?” he chuckles softly, stroking his thumb against your cheek and lips. 

“Nothing you just, you have this sparkle in your eyes that I’ve never noticed before. It’s beautiful.” Neither of you can stop your lips  from meeting again.

[neverchecking]

Oh my god, please. That chain facesitting piece was beautiful. I could cry, dammit.

Big request, but could you do like a pt 2 of that where it’s just one big orgy between all of them? (Not link x link but like all links x reader, yk) maybe they take turns n shit, yeah?

(Heavy on Time plz, ik yk by now he’s my favorite 🤤💕💕 I can’t help it, he’s just so daddy 🥵🥵🥵)

-🧚‍♀️ who fucking adores your writing 🫶💕✨

Fairy anon! Welcome back~

I can! I can't promise it'll be as good, but I can try.

Its okay I know you love time-

Smut so MDNI! 18+!

Smut CW: AFAB! Reader, Multiple partners, face sitting, mentions of masturbation, but it's not from Time or Reader.

Your hips twitched and quivered as they fought to shut, stopped only by strong hands keeping them open. You were a glorious sight. A renaissance painting.

Everything from the sheen of your lips, coated in drool, to the flush of your cheeks- a gorgeous cherry red- to the heat of your skin from the hours you've been held hostage. It was all enough to have a grown man drooling in his seat.

Well, almost.

He was sure he would, at least just a little, if his mouth weren't doing something much more important currently. Goddess, just the feeling of you above him, thighs clasped around his head with your hips rocking in time with his ministrations made his gut coil with anticipation. While, yes, the newcomer and Wild had both gotten their turns with you, and had done an...adequate enough job, it was clear he needed to set a precedent. Nothing but the absolute best for his divinity.

Those two were merely boys in comparison to him.

With the way you clenched and tightened around his fingers as he slowly dragged them along your velvet walls, spasming as they adjusted around the girth of his middle and ring finger, you knew it too. You knew he would be able to give you something the others could not. Because he was the only one who could take you as you were; a feast filled with delicacies bursting with nothing but seraphic tastes. One that only he could truly understand and appreciate at its fullest capacity.

And even them, he was sure his bitter mortality would do nothing but encase him in naive blindness from your true potential.

As it stood however, he was more than happy in his current place, hands locked around your legs as you pushed down against his chest, crying out as your nails marked him as yours. He would bare the marks proudly for as long as they remained. They were your thanks to him for doing what he simply saw as his civil duty.

It was an honor, really, to be the one below you, lapping at your cunt eagerly as his fingers toyed with your opening. Dragging them in and out slowly before tracing along your gummy walls, feeling what made you jump and what made you shiver. What each miniscule jab or rub made each reaction. Whether a hum against your clit would make you cry out or paint deep red lines onto his pecs. Each little movement was a new chord in the choir you sung for him.

When he felt you clench around him, something wet dripping down his palm and wrist, he smirked from beneath you. Time knew what every one of your telltale signs were at this point. He knew what every twitch meant and how he could achieve his end goal subsequently.

He hummed against your clit, before flicking his tongue back and forth over the definitely over sensitized bundle of nerves, clenching his grip on your thighs when you tried bucking off of him. Which simply wouldn't do.

Not when you were so close.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few of the others palming themselves, cooing down at you as your cheeks shined with tears. Slobber decorated your lower jaw as you mindlessly babble whatever plea you had half-formed.

Goddess it was erotic. His perfect, ethereal Goddess was letting him, not only touch her, but please her. Bring her to the place only he could take her too.

You cried out above him, painting his skin further with thin white lines as you moved from trying to buck away from him to instead smothering him further, pushing into face and riding his tongue for all it was worth. Droplets cascaded down his cheeks and jaw as he eagerly lapped at your cunt, taking every little bit you'd grace him with. It was a divine nectar gifted to him by your ever eager soul. And he would be nothing short of a damned fool if he wasted even the tiniest bit.

So he wouldn't.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Pleasure

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Tiriel to give a blowjob.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, oral sex, trauma talk

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The late evening is sweet and warm, the stars shining beautifully in the dark skies.

It’s Astarion’s second spring as a free person. 

These months always bring hope, and even in his years of slavery Astarion sometimes dared to dream of freedom in those few weeks when nature was new.

Astarion looks to the right. Tiriel walks beside him in her spidersilk armor. The two-handed ax is strapped on her back. She looks ahead with almost child-like amusement. 

He can’t take his eyes off her.

Freckles, wrinkles on her forehead, those funny half-elven ears. He knows every small detail of her body – and loves her mindlessly.

Tiriel notices his look and takes his hand. Her skin is warm, and Astarion squeezes her fingers tighter.

She is much younger, only thirty-eight. The year she was born, he was forced to entertain a certain nobleman from Amn for an entire year. And by the end of it, Astarion thought that returning back to the mansion wouldn't be so bad because at least there he could pretend he was something more than a toy to play with in bed.

Tiriel was beaten by her relatives for being a half-elf. He was beaten and tortured for fun.

Tiriel was starved and humiliated by her own blood. He was fed rats and fleas by his master.

At the age of fifteen, she managed to escape, and Astarion’s undead heart aches when he thinks about young Tiriel, almost a child, wandering the wilderness on her own, without a weapon or armor.

Shedidn’t even have a name before an old adventurer, a tiefling-paladin, explained to her that “pixie” and “fairy” aren’t an appropriate way to call a young woman, no matter her race and origin.

Tiriel told Astarion all these with a bitter smile – her cheating mother, evil chieftain stepfather, cruel siblings, years of traveling on her own, the way she chose her own name at the age of fifteen. The loneliness and pain she tried to soothe with drinking. 

But Astarion knows Tiriel too well. She still suffers for what happened to her. Tears prickle her eyes when she talks about her miserable childhood.

They both have a lot of darkness in their past. She consoles him after nightmares and soothes his anxieties. He tells her how beautiful she is. 

He smiles to himself. Maybe the gods did hear him after all, making Tiriel’s father stay for the night in the village in the Sunset Mountains and sleep with the chieftain’s wife. It just took Tiriel some time to grow up and get to Baldur’s Gate.

“Well, the night is young and we have many hours of travel again. I wonder if there is any village we can get to by the morning,” Astarion says.

“I doubt it. One more day in the tent, then,” she shrugs. 

“Easy for you, Tiriel, you don’t have to stay inside! And I am trapped, protected from the murderous sunlight only by a thin layer of fabric.” 

“First of all, you keep me for yourself until I absolutely need to go out,” she laughs. “Second, it’s an enchanted fabric, and third it’s a very big tent! Don’t complain!”

“Oh, it’s not fun to be in a relationship if I cannot complain!”

Tiriel brushes her finger along his cheek. He closes his eyes, savoring the touch. If only he knew she was already alive in the last decades of his slavery. Maybe it would make things more bearable.

Then he notices Tiriel looking to her side. She opens her mouth and then immediately shuts it, as if trying to say something but not knowing how.

His wild girl doesn’t have a wide vocabulary, that’s for sure.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Oh? Nothing!” she blushes. “Nothing-”

Astarion is sure there is something on her mind but he isn’t sure if he should push her. Tiriel doesn’t like it.

Neither does he.

They keep walking through the valley and no matter how sharpened Astarion’s senses are, he doesn’t catch any sentient creature’s scent.

There is no one for many miles.

“Astarion,” Tiriel calls him out.

“Yes? What is it?”

She takes a deep breath and stares at her feet. Astarion is sure he’s never seen her that embarrassed.

“I want to take you in my mouth.”

Astarion has to put an effort not to laugh. “And what exactly in this gods forbidden place made you want this?”

She turns her head away avoiding looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking about it for three days.”

“What self-control!”

“Don't laugh, Astarion! Besides, you've gone down on me already! Even when I was on my period!”

He chuckles remembering the taste of her moon blood. It was incomparable to anything else.

“You are a half-elf, my dear, I couldn’t miss the only time you bleed every year and a half. In your case, it’s a rare treat. Not so rare if you were a pure-blood elf of course. Then we would have to wait for a decade.”

“I want to,” she says. “I want to give you pleasure.”

“As if you don’t already give it to me,” he approaches Tiriel and puts his fingers on her neck, where a fresh bite mark is slowly healing. “But who am I to say no to such a generous offer?”

He looks around and notices a boulder that he can comfortably sit on. 

Tiriel impatiently waits till he puts his sack on the ground and sits. Now Astarion can feel her arousal and he contemplates if he should just fuck her like he usually does.

He spreads his legs a bit so she can unlace his trousers without an effort.

“Should I undress?” She asks.

“Take off your armor. The rest only if you want to.”

Tiriel quickly gets rid of the spidersilk armor and stays only in her shirt and trousers. Then, she contemplates for a bit and takes off her top as well. Her skin immediately is covered with goosebumps and her nipples harden because of the cold air.

Astarion feels the tension between his legs. Tiriel knows what she has just done to him.

“Kneel,” he asks. He tries to make it sound like a request, but it sounds like an order anyway. Tiriel bites her lower lip and slowly sits down.

Astarion admires her face for a few moments and then nods allowing her to unlace his trousers. His cock is soft and Tiriel carefully kisses the base of the shaft.

“You haven’t done this before, right?” He asks, feeling his arousal grow.

“Which part of ‘I was a virgin’ don’t you remember?” She asks, planting a kiss right below his navel.

“Yes… True… Well, I’ve probably received it a couple of times, although I don’t remember. Usually, I was giving…” He shivers when Tiriel kisses his half-naked hip. 

“Should I take it?” She mutters. 

“Wait,” Astarion brushes her hair with his fingertips. “It will be difficult to swallow it fully, it will just be unpleasant. Use your hand.”

“Like that?” Tiriel grabs his cock the same way she grabs her weapon and Astarion gasps. 

“I knew what I was getting into,” he murmurs. He feels hot down there, all his thoughts and emotions are focused on his own cock which is getting harder as Tiriel holds it.

“Yes- Yes, like that,” he grabs a fistful of her hair and makes her head lean towards his  cock. “Now relax your tongue and lick the tip. Do it, don't be afraid.”

Tiriel studies the cock for a while and then touches the sensitive head with her tongue. She licks it, forcing a string of pre-cum to flow down the shaft, and then kisses the tip.

“Does it feel good?” she asks.

“Yes-”

“Great, because I like it, too,” she finally goes down and takes the part of his cock into her mouth.

Astarion whimpers as Tiriel starts sucking him. She still hasn't fully taken him into her mouth, and he doesn’t expect she will. Tiriel looks up, maintaining eye contact and he sees tears in the corners of her eyes.

Her right hand goes up under the shirt where she squeezes his right nipple forcing Astarion to moan loudly.

Inexperienced or not, Tiriel knows his body too well, all of his sensitive parts.

Then she stops half cock still in her mouth and her eyes smirk. 

What is she up to?

She goes down fully, her lips meeting the base of the shaft. Astarion feels his legs shiver. 

He is throat-deep in her and the feeling is like nothing that he’s experienced before. Tears flow down Tiriel’s cheeks. Astarion leans back, and Tiriel uses her right hand to reach out for his balls.

“Ngh,” he whimpers, feeling his orgasm getting closer. He thinks he should pull her head away and come on her naked breasts or on her face – he’s personally always hated getting gushed down his throat – but before he manages to make any coherent movement he finishes in Tiriel’s mouth.

Tiriel lets his still-hardened cock go and Astarion expects to hear a cough or gagging sounds but instead, she stands up on her wobbling legs, smiles, and parts her lips to show the white pool of cum on her tongue.

Then she swallows it.

“You taste divine,” she murmurs, letting him taste himself on her lips. “And look very cute right now.”

Astarion slowly returns back from the high of his orgasm. 

“Did you like it?” She asks.

“It was perfect. Everything you do to me is perfect.”

She giggles and then looks at his manhood. It’s still painfully hard. 

“I can do the second round,” she says, licking her lips, but Astarion pushes her onto the grass and tugs her trousers. Her own entrance is wet and swollen.

“I want you to scream my name,” he murmurs, getting rid of the last pieces of his own clothes. “I want you to moan and whimper like the good, wild girl you are,” Astarion adjusts himself and feels her warmth around him the next moment. “And then I will come on these breasts of yours.”

Tiriel cups his face and parts her swollen lips.

“I would love nothing more.”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong @herautumnmorningelegance

[peachesvanilla]

Dancing with a stranger

description: A red string binds soulmates together, it never breaks or cut or dies down. In a world of pure love and hookups, what if your soulmate turns out to be the person you least expected? What if that person is your professor? Amidst desperation and constant reminder of the red string tying them together, will it get its happy ending or ends up in chaos or worst, with a hook up.

pairings: Baekhyun x reader (a surprise pairing if there's gonna be another part)

genres: angst, soulmate au, professor!Baekhyun, student!reader, age gap

warnings: unedited

taglist: @archernarbeta

part-1

I thought pain was getting scolded by my parents till high school, getting low grades till now. Failing in classes, falling behind everyone is the worst thing one can imagine, no, I can imagine. Never once have I thought that waking up one day to find out I won’t ever get my happy ending will feel like the world crashing.

If soulmates aren’t bound to be one then why are they soulmates? Why will there be a red string attached like a dreaded reminder? 

Ten year old me dreamt of holding hands with my soulmate after reading the fairy tale and walking into the happy ending just like the two soulmates in the story. Red string wrapping around us, air filled with magic, happiness and love. 

Fifteen year old me dreamt of crashing into him and falling into his arms like my parents. Maybe seal the divine meeting with a kiss. Perfect meet. One for the books. 

But as imaginative and hopeful one can be, life always throws you off track. Before him every pain I went through falls short. It ain’t even a single scratch compared to getting ignored by him. 

“Aren’t you coming to class?” Hyejin asks once again, concern written all over her face. “I know what you are going through but,” she holds my arm, “you can’t abandon everything. You need to pass his course to get into another semester.” 

I break away from her touch, sucking in a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ll come.” My voice breaks no matter how hard I try to act strong. It doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t care and now I don’t either. Going to the class must get easier now since a month has passed. I can sit in the class, look at him and not feel like dying. I haven’t known him for twenty one years and I can live without him for another forty. 

Hyejin perks up from getting a positive response. “Really? For real you are going to come into the class with me?” She holds my hand again, a bounce in her legs. “Thank god, I am so worried seeing you pine on him for weeks. I am happy you are getting back on track.”

I nod and she continues giving pep talk. “He ain’t that..” she trails off scratching her temple, “hotshot for you to waste your time on?” 

I snort, who is she kidding? There must be millions of girls ready to give up their soulmates if they can be with him. Even if it’s for only a single day. The girls in his cabin in the pretence of doubts but to just gawk at him some more. 

I flip onto my stomach away from Hyejin, blinking my tears away. The red string glows up the brightest it has ever been. I hate you. 

—

Fellow students standing outside the classroom gasps beside me, cupping their mouths and eyes shining brighter than the sun. I follow their gaze only to end up shattering all the courage I piled up. Mr.Byun is walking down the hallway, streaks of midday sunlight falling on him through the windows bringing out his fierce features more. Sharp eyes trained straight on the classroom, hair perfectly styled yet his authoritative steps makes a strand fall out onto his forehead. 

Hyejin groans and I look down at my shoes, dirt at the edges. We are different. Different age, different world and different perspectives. I can’t do this. I need to go. 

Mr.Byun walks past us before I can slip away and reminds us, “class is starting.”

I turn around and leave. Not today. Some other day I’ll be indifferent to everything about him. 

The red string around my little finger glows brighter, the string stretching more and more as the distance between us grows further. 

I read about the reason behind the sudden glow on the internet after yesterday’s sudden glow. It happens when the other person is thinking about you, not just a mere thought but borderline obsessed. 

I stop in my tracks, staring at it. Why? Why does he think about me when he doesn't even pay attention? It’s the second time. If only I can cut it off or tear it off or make it disappear then the pain will be less. There won’t be any hopes rising. His existence won’t hurt as much. 

—

“You can’t mop around your entire life!” Hyejin slams my room door open. It hits my wall, rattling the photo frames hung on it. “Do you think you are the only one going through it? Getting rejected by the soulmate is so common that the government had to set up campaigns and promote the benefits of being with soulmates.”

I flip over to my right side covering my duvet till my head. I can’t have another day spent listening to her giving a lecture. I already had enough from my parents. 

“God! I can’t with you.” She huffs, dragging my duvet away. “Wake up for fuck’s sake.” 

“Language!” My mother screams from the living room. 

She bites on her tongue before dropping on top of me. I groan under her weight. “You should consider yourself lucky, what if you went into the relationship and broke it off because he can’t understand your jokes due to the age difference. Who wants an old man anyway?”

“Get off.” I shove her to the side and bury myself deeper into the duvet. “We are destined to be, Hyejin. Do you know what that means? Even if he doesn’t know current trends, he will understand what I am feeling, what I am saying and what I,” I sit up, the duvet falling off my head. “am going through. The pain, the heartbreak, everything, everything. I know he knows what I am feeling now and what I want,” I raise my little finger, “because this doesn’t stop glowing.”

Hyejin's face softens, holding my hand she strokes my palm tenderly. “But baby, I heard it goes two ways. You are thinking about him too aren't you? That might be—”

“No.” I shake her hand off me, “you don’t understand. It's not one way. I know he wants to be with me. If not why would he be waiting till now? He could have hooked up with someone,  anyone. He can have girls with a snap of his fingers. But he didn’t.”

Hyejin flinches, averting her eyes away from me. “About that,” she sucks in a deep breath, “this isn’t confirmed but some student claimed that she saw Mr.Byun kissing some woman last saturday.”

“W-wha..” My lips quiver, tears falling down in an endless stream blurring my vision. “I-I do-don’t.. what?” 

She holds my palm pressing it firmly. “And,” her eyes soften as she says, “he wants you to meet him tomorrow.”

It’s too much. Everything is hitting me at once. Finding him, rejection, kissing another girl, wanting to meet. What is he really thinking? I close my eyes, sucking in a long breath. Is there any hope? I don’t think there will be any left. What if he meets me tomorrow and finds me attractive even a little, causing him to change his mind? But he is kissing someone else. That isn’t confirmed yet. 

I clutch my head, too many thoughts, and yet can’t come to one conclusion. Is he, is he playing with me? What if the rumour is true? It hasn’t been that long and yet he is looking for hookups? Does age play that important role? It’s not like I’m an underage girl. 

“You need not have to go.” Hyejin breaks in my train wreck of thoughts, saving me. “You can skip and just bear with him for two more months and we will be done with the semester.”

“I need to think about it.” 

“You don’t have to push yourself.” She pats my hair down. “Just move on from him and,” she points her thumb at my computer, “stop searching for soulmate reconciliation stories. Everyone’s different.” 

I nod not really listening to her. Should I meet him or not? 

—

I pace around the hallway, biting my nails while sneaking anxious glances at the closed cabin door. The cabin area is eerily silent today, amplifying the sound of my heart beat. What if he changed he is not there or worse what if he is occupied with some other girl. 

The door to his cabin opens up with a squeak, startling me out of my anxieties. “Come in.” Mr. Byun leaves the door open, not before his eyes run all over my face. Did his eyes turn droopier than they have already been. 

He sits on the edge of the table, clasping his hands on his lap. His shoulders sagged, a small smile on his pink lips and bags under his eyes. His entire room smells of a mix of vanilla and something stronger than the delicate vanilla.  

“Have a seat.” He pushes the chair beside his legs, patiently waiting for me. 

I settle down on the chair, waiting for him to speak. Please be good news. Tell me you are going to be my man. Please. Please, I beg fate with my entire heart in utter desperation. 

Mr.Byun gives a painful half smile like he heard my prayers. “How are you doing?” 

The unimpressed thin line of his lips, his jumpy attention from me to the door leaves me with scenarios bugging my mind. Why is he constantly looking at the door? Does he want me to leave already? Or is he scared someone might walk in? 

The thought alone leaves a sour taste in my mouth, my chest feels stuffy and my heart doesn’t slow down for a second. I clutch the chair handle in hopes of some support will help me in staying still and not lose my sight and ball up. 

Mr.Byun frowns at my hand holding the handle, he chews on his lower lip. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you want to meet me, Mr.Byun?” I level my voice, straightening up and faking my confidence. I can’t let him see more of my pathetic state than I already displayed the last few days. 

He blinks in surprise, opens his mouth and closes a few times. He sighs, his shoulders slouching and addresses the main reason he called me in for. “I felt like a jerk after treating you harshly when I.. when we…” his eyes fall on his pinky finger, the red string comes to life, to the other end wrapped around mine, “found out.” 

His voice falls to a whisper like sharing a secret even the walls shouldn’t hear. My heart tears a little on the edges. 

“Only then?” I raise my chin, looking straight in his eyes. “What about now?” 

He averts his attention to the wall behind me. “You need to understand me too, kiddo. We are like years apart,” he flails his hands around lost in explanation, “I wasn’t expecting this, more like, you to be my partner.”

My heart tears more and more with every word leaving his mouth. 

He gasps realising his true feelings slipped out. “I-I.. didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just read somewhere that fate pairs people who complement each other.”

He slides down from the table, his thigh brushes my arm in the process. My heart tingles at the touch, a wave of calmness spreads across me, my shivering hands pause. I close my eyes feeling the peace even for a second. 

I opened my eyes, surprised to see him standing close to me, staring at my hand. He shifts from one leg to another, cupping his mouth with one hand and holding his waist in another. Did he feel the same too? 

Will he feel a little different about me now? 

Mr.Byun walks away from me, running his hands through his perfectly styled hair. “We don’t complement each other.” 

I stare at his back, the tips of his hair poking his neck, the hints of broad shoulders when he flexes his hand, the perfectly tailored suit to his body proportions. No matter how I look at him, he is the one filling every check of the person I imagined my soulmate to be. 

“We don’t.” I lied. 

He doesn’t say anything and just stands near the door of his cabin. I dip my head, a few tears fall onto my lap. This is the end, isn’t it? He wants to have the last talk and end everything. 

“We can’t be together,” his voice is barely a whisper. “We are standing on opposite sides, kiddo, we can’t ever cross our paths.” He turns to me, leaning on the door. “This isn’t meant to be. We aren’t meant to be.” 

I nod. 

“I hope you find someone with whom you can live happily, without any constraints.” Please stop talking. “You can find love outside too. There are so many who did.” 

“That’s for me to decide, Mr.Byun.” I draw the line. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubs his nape, “yeah. I… wish you happiness. And please attend the classes and submit assignments. Extra credit assignments won’t be of any help anymore considering your score now.” 

I nod. 

“Do you have anything to say?” 

I stared at the side of his neck which became visible from his movements. “Cover your hickeys.” 

I pick my bag and march to the door. He gulps. “Move.” I ordered. He does. “Asshole.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks and didn't stop till I reached home. 

That night I decided to erase the line I have drawn around me. I sent a text to my friend. 

Wanna go clubbing? 

[thehylianidiot]

Sooo... bout that idea of "Maruki's palace but it's the setting of Princess Tutu" concept. I may have been obsessing over it and did a few concept sketches.

Explanations under the read more

The concept is simple: the ability to become a god changes Maruki's palace theme after the Christmas Actualization; instead of a laboratory, where experiments and uncertainty are used to find the answers, it's now a "Fairy Tale" where rule are certain and can be whatever the author wants them to be. In other words, I have an excuse to make the setting Gold Crown from Princess Tutu with P5 characters. Yes, this would place Maruki firmly in the role of Drosselmeyer...except with like the exact opposite intent. Upon entering the palace on 01/02, the royal trio end up trapped within a never-ending story, with a part of themselves scattered to avoid them from progressing. They have 32 days to realize something's up, seek out their missing "heart shards", and complete the palace. Along the way, they will encounter cognitions of other P5 characters (I haven't gotten that for into the details of that though). Personas I think shall be restricted because A) it's a god's palace he can do whatever he wants with his cognition's rules, and B) because I wanna :3

As said, in order to progress in the palace, the trio needs to find the missing pieces of themselves scattered throughout the palace. There are 3 shards total, ergo replacing the "Will Seeds" of the palace. This concept is meant to lend itself to a lot of character development. Remember that the story start on 01/02, meaning any third-semester plot points have not been revealed to the characters yet (hehehe, much potential angst, much wow). Order of shard discovery initially set for: Sumi -> Akechi -> Joker

Each of the three's ballet clothes are based on a simplified version of their metaverse outfits, meant to promote mobility and helps the artist maintain her sanity. Sumi is a shoo-in for the advanced classes. Her skill as a gymnast (regardless of the comparisons to her sister) are seriously good, and that's not even accounting for her metaverse outfit resembling a ballerina. Whether or not she stays in the advanced class due to her whole identity crisis in parallel or October 3rd is another matter. Ren isn't top of the class, but he's fairy decent himself thanks to tutelage from a certain gymnast confidant. Kid picks up on lots of things pretty quickly. But on the bright side, in Gold Crown he always gets to wear his Joker mask...and probably good on his metaverse identity's namesake along the way. You'd think Akechi wouldn't be the least experienced dancer of the three...but his battle style isn't exactly the most...graceful (especially in the edge-suit) and he definitely wouldn't have reached out to anyone for lessons and stuff. Also, having to deal with others being considerably better than him at something? He would hate it and it would be hilarious. Thus, somehow the rageball somehow has a parallel to a literal duck. Note that each of the trio is not a 1:1 ratio with any of Princess Tutu's main cast. For example, while Sumi is a sweetheart like Duck, the need to adjust her technique as she learns to be her own person parallel's Mythos, and her desire to initially keep Maruki's reality when she realizes what she would have to give up parallel's Rue's motivations. And that's just for one of them!

Also yes, since I'm a hopeless romantic when it comes to Princess Tutu, I swear I shall find a way to put in the underwater lake dance!!!

ANYWAY

That's all I have so far. What do folks think?

[dinadumas]

I love the problematic of tomarry in time travel fics and now I'm going to explain why hehe

Let's take a look at Tom and Harry separately.

We have Harry who is 16~17 years old. Say what you will, but he's a sarcastic asshole. This is perfectly demonstrated by mama Ro in the books (like the moments when Harry interacts with the Dursleys and many others).

The first 11 years of living with muggles affected him in a bad way. Dumbledore is a good man, but I judge him for Harry's childhood. He grew up an intimidated and lonely child so his friends were the most precious people in his life to him. He treasures good people.

Fucking prophecy. Jesus. Harry had been trained since he was 11 years old to beat some crazy dude who talked to snakes. For an 11-year-old boy just entering the wizarding world, it was like a professional boxer's punch. For him, the wizarding world was a hope for a better life. Surprise Harry, I'm sorry. The beautiful fairy tale turned out to be a lie.

He developed a hero complex during his Hogwarts years. He was willing to die to destroy the horcrux inside him and give others hope for the death of the dark lord.

Well, and let's not forget the wonderful sophomore year when Harry was bullied for parseltongue. Surely that wasn't pleasant and left its own residue okay?

He's impulsive. Harry's a man of action. He does some shit first and then thinks about the consequences afterwards ahahahaha

And let's talk honestly, you ready for this. He absolutely has ptsd. I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps with a wand in his hand, seriously. Harry has been tried to kill at least 4 or 5 times, his friends and many others have been killed and tortured. Because of his status as the chosen one, he blamed all the troubles on himself. Cerrick's death was also a blow. This episode is absolute hell.

Harry is a strong wizard. Like baby... a patronus at 13? That's crazy. I love that kid. All in all, Harry Potter is a tired ball of nerves with a dash of sarcasm peppered with powerful magic.

And, uh, we have Tom.

Tom at 16~17?

God help me.

He's a monster. In both good and bad ways. This punk literally being an orphan without any support has taken control of an entire slytherin house filled with pompous snobs and blood purity advocates. Himself. Tom... how? My props.

Can you feel the magnitude of his genius and charisma? His only weapons were his mouth, his brains and his looks. Oh, and magic. He was lucky in one way. Merope fell in love with a Muggle. Let's thank her.

Thank you.

Let's continue. The orphanage. Apart from the meager food and lack of heating, the orphanage isn't too bad because Tom could fight back against those kids, but 24/7, 11 years of living in hate does its job. Tom is cynical. He doesn't trust people at all. To him, they're either an obstacle or a means to an end. Manipulator? Yeah huh, that's Tom Riddle.

Let's not make him a demon. Let's look back to June, 1943. We know Tom didn't plan to kill Myrtle. It was an accident. That means that at the time he probably wouldn't have decided to kill her himself, but fate made its move and it happened. You could say it was the beginning of his downfall. Tom didn't care about other people's lives, but after June, all moral boundaries that held him back were erased.

We all know why he was chasing immortality. The war. He saw it with his own eyes. All those ruined streets and dead bodies. He heard it all with his own ears. The sounds of explosions and evacuation signals.

He was terrified of his own weakness before death and the prospect of being just another nameless body. And he had ambitions for the whole of magical Britain. Yeaah.

All in all, the tag magnificent creep describes Tom Riddle very accurately.

Now let's look at these two little punks together.

Boom! You feel that? Explosive mix.

They're a lot alike, so competing with each other is something special for them. It makes the blood in their veins flow faster. And given their history for Harry and the horcrux connection for Tom, it's a hell of a relationship.

But. Their morals. Even if they're similar in some ways, they're still too different. It's cursed. Seriously. Harry and Tom took their lives every day. But they did it in different ways, and that makes all the difference. Tom initially fought for a better life for himself, later it turned into an obsession to turn the whole ministry upside down. Harry also wanted a better life, but he also wanted the happiness of the people around him. He wanted to be surrounded by that happiness. Because...well, why would happy people want to harm him? Exactly.

Harry sees his happiness in others, he wants to share it with someone else while Tom uses other people's weaknesses to find the best place under the sun for himself.

That's what I see as the problem tomarry. It's the way they accomplish their goals. They want the same thing, but they do it in completely different ways and it leads to different results.

It's crazy. It's killing me.

Unfortunately every day of their lives would be a little war. Sure, it adds passion to their relationship but it also hurts them. Harry would never accept Tom's indifference to other people's lives, and Tom would never feel safe around Harry or be able to trust him completely.

I think we all realize that the foundation of a strong relationship is trust in your partner. In a moment of special intimacy when they both know each other very well they will absolutely not trust each other completely. After all, they know what their lover is capable of.

Tom: You annoy the hell out of me

Harry: ...

Tom: but I'm obsessed with you, go on.

[heartlvrrss]

haechan x reader

Word count: 1127 (puku puku pow pow)

requested? Yes( •̀ ω •́ )y

Warnings: Small mentions of being gutted (not anyone in the story itself don't worry I'm not cruel) THIS IS ALSO NOT PROOF READ SO IF ITS SHIT IM SORRY T-T other than that nothing (I think)<3

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It was finally halloween, the time of year where you would usually call up your best friend lee donghyuck to do all those little halloween things before scaring and bullying kids.

You originally wanted to do a little party with your friends but apparently everyone all of a sudden had to do something, which, in your opinion was total bs. But at least you still had haechan, god did the man piss you off at times but he was a good friend, a cute one maybe even pretty.

“That actually looks like shit” Haechan had the audacity to say while you were carving your pumpkin that you were actually working very hard on, but your ego came back up after seeing his. “You have no right to talk, I cant tell if your trying to make a version of jack the skeleton that was dropkicked as a baby and fell down the stairs 1 million times or if your just making a pumpkin self portrait” You snapped back

“My mother told me to be an honest person, so I told you the truth, no need to insult me!” He replies with wide eyes. Before you could say anything more both of you heard a bell ring, a grin crept up both of your faces before running to the door with vegetables.

You both fought to open the door until u slapped him “get your fatass hand away from the handle I wanna see our victim first” you whispered loudly, the bell rang one last time before you opened the door.

You both saw a young girl in a unicorn costume

“Well hi! What are you this halloween?” You asked

“Isn’t it pretty obvious” the child said, which shocked me with the attitude. She really deserves a vegetable now.

“Is it a fairy??”

“I’m a mermaid you dumb bitch”

I turned to hyuck and mouthed “goddamn..” 

“Oh.. Uh… Choose 3 candies from here” This girl scares me i literally might shit my pants on the spot.

You and hyuck watch as the girl skips away to her mother that was waiting by the end of the driveway, still in shock.

“You were supposed to give her the vegetable!”

“Well she’s got fucking anger issues i don’t wanna get cursed out by a child again!”

“Whatever”

I walked back to the kitchen with hyuck right behind me, while i try to extend my legs as much as possible (which TOTALLY not an attempt to trip him)

“What the fuck are you doing ___”

“Its a walking habit hyuck, have you not known me long enough to know that?” you ask with a fake betrayed look on your face

“__ Ive know you for far too long to know thats not a habit of yours. Its a poor attempt of trying to trip me. YOU are the traitor not me.” He grabs his chest and looks away in a fake dramatic manor

you roll your eyes “drama queen.. Well whatever lets watch a movie we can finish the pumpkins tomorrow.” and you gave him the bright smile that hes always loved.

When he saw that smile his heart leaped as usual, whenever he saw you he swears he might have a heart attack; just how could a human be so perfect, is what hed always ask himself whenever he saw you. You are the epitome of perfection to him, and thats exactly what hurt him, he wanted you so bad but he just didnt want to ruin your relationship with him incase you didnt like him back.

Hyuck decided to watch scream on whatever illegal website you could find on your tv, when the part where Casey becker was gutted you flinched a bit immediately holding on to hyuck for comfort, as he just cuddled you closer in response, wrapping you around with the blanket. You looked up at him admiring him for a bit, your heart skipping a bit while the movie plays in the background, you then lean in to kiss him lips barely brushing against each others, thats when you heard a ring your house phone was ringing. A bit freaked out thanks to the scream movie you were watching, you walked up to the phone with hyuck trailing behind you, a bit bummed out the moment was interrupted. 

“Hello? Who is this” the fear in your voice evident

“You dont need to know who i am” the deep voice replied, you look at hyuck to see if he had anything to do with this, but he looked equally confused

“Do not fucking play with me right now, im watching scream right now and you using that voice is gonna make me shit my pants now fuck off and dont joke around” you hang up pissed “just some creep” you told hyuck “ok whatever, can we please contin-” his voiced was cut off by the phone ringing again.

You turn around and pick up the phone again 

“Dont fucking hang up on me bitch”

“What the fuck can i not just enjoy my halloween for goodness sake” someone started loudly banging on the door

“Open the fucking door”

“No”

“Open the fucking door NOW”

I cover the phone dk the person couldnt hear me “hyuck please open the door”

“Yes ma’am” I walk next to him with the phone still by me, as hyucks hand slowly reaches for the door knob he opens it

You scream and jump into hyucks arms scared for what would happen, only to be met with a loud 

“SURPRISE!!!” you open your eyes to see a bunch of your friends laughing at you including haechan 

“That was not fucking funny!” you say close to tears, looking at giselle holding a phone “And you YOU i thought no one was coming!” you jumped out of hyucks arms close to tears (angry tears be so real)

“Woah woah we are so sorry ___! Youre right that wasnt funny” hyuck apologises hugging you

“Thats right you better be sorry” you say as you cried

“I think we should leave.. seems like somethings going on here and i dont wanna be a witness…” you hear ningning say as the group walk away

°°°°°°°°

“Are you mad at me?” hyuck asks worried

“You actually thought my tears were real? I didnt know i was that good of an actor” you reply, a bit shocked he believed your stunt

“You were lying??” 

“Ofcourse i just wanted to get the away so i could kiss you in private” you say as you grab his face and give him a sweet pure kiss, finally able to continue the urge after you got rudely interrupted right when you were about to kiss him. 

“So are we official now?” he asks

“ofcourse”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

@polarisjisung here hua! ik im very late but I'm finally finished T-T I hope you like it<3

[echantedtoon]

Monster Bride Part 2 What Shall We Find?

(Just for context. After this there will one chapter and ending for each character except for the Hantengu boys which will end in a poly romance. If there's any suggestions for what you'd like to see them do feel free to leave them in the comments.)

You liked living alone.

No one to order you around. No one to say what you shouldn't and should do. No one scrutinizing yourself. It was a good life. Just you, nature, and the few farm animals you kept for company. It was a good life. Your parents were a bit concerned about you wanting to buy a house and  live alone but considering your circumstances they agreed and purchased a home from an old farmer as a new year's present a few years back. It wasn't too big. Just two rooms including the bathroom and just a small space in the back for a few animals. Just it was perfect in your eyes. And it was just outside of town. Close enough to visit whenever you wanted but far enough to give you complete privacy in the woods. Which was EXACTLY what you wanted.

Unfortunately your life wasn't meant very easy.

From the moment you were born it seemed your life was going to be a problem for you. Mostly because it was almost like you had a spell casted over you to just have the worst of luck with men. Oh no. They weren't repulsed by you. Quite the opposite actually.

THEY WOULDN'T LEAVE YOU ALONE!!

Your parents must've had at least two hundred offers from other parents to arrange a marriage between you and their sons.  Thank the gods above they were amazing and kind and always asked if you wanted any of the marriages. You refused so they refused. And you would still be bombarded with offers of other parents to boys just attempting to court you any chance they could get. It was one of the reasons why you chose to live all the way out here instead of in town where you'd just be bothered. Although men still occasionally showed up here. And sometimes an older man or woman would trying to talk you into marrying their sons. You always refused and made them leave no matter how polite, persistent, or rude they are. And boy. You've gotten a few rude guests you had to kick to the Kirb. But you also had the ones who couldn't take a hint like the one months ago. Stupid guy. He even tried to use that stupid tradition to get you to marry him.

For thousands of years, people married off their daughters and ladies desperately scrambled to find a husband obsessively in fear of a monster dragging them away from as the blood moon came every hundred years. WHICH WAS STUPID!! You've lived your ENTIRE LIFE playing in the woods and walking around and now living in the woods and not even ONCE did you ever see any ghoul, goblin, troll, fairy, ghost, or any other inhuman creature. They only existed in stories and the imagination of children. You hated that so many people were legitimately terrified of this. And you especially hated that someone tried to use that against you!  You wouldn't be scared into a loveless marriage that wouldn't be fair to yourself. Or the man to be honest. 

With a sigh you woke up that morning and did yours chores which wasn't a lot. Feeding the few animals you had and cleaning your house. Neither of which took very long because of how small your home was and then you started on the laundry. Again it wasn't much and you were just scrubbing a blanket in your home when there was a noise outside that made up you jump and whirl your head towards the back of your house. Your cow was mooing and thrashing about by the side of your house.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

You heard her knock and the kick the side of the house a few times making you drop the cloth and stand up as even MORE noises came from your backyard. Your chickens were going absolutely NUTS!! Clucking and calling a out making you run to the back door and throwing it open-

"AH!!"

Your arms threw up over your face and closing your eyes as a flurry of your hens jumped up and flew a out you in a panic. 

CRASH!! THUD!! RUSTLE!!

Your cow mooed louder and ran past you towards the well on the side of your house as a giant black blue went diving into a bush right by your hen house causing feathers to fly and more chickens to rum about in panic blocking your view of...of...Well  whatever it was. You blinked just seeing the bushes move and hearing whatever it was crashing through the woods away from you as quick as the wind. Leaving you standing there blinking with a few panicked chickens and your cow irritated and half hiding behind the well....

What in all the heavens just happened?!

The chickens were still running around as the last few crashing sounds made their way into the woods before it was silent all around. You stood there and just...blinked. What was that?! A bear? No, no. A bear was too big and bulky and couldn't run off THAT fast?! You looked around noticing that...no chickens were missing. All fifteen of your hens and one rooster was still around. Oh... Whatever it was you must've scared it off before it could make off with one of them. But what was it? Couldn't have been a fox. It was too big and it wasn't a red color...

"A wolf," you mumbled having finally deduced what it was before scowling. "It must've been a wolf!! A wolf was after my chickens!!" 

Scowling you marched on over to the bush where it disappeared through making your chickens scramble from your legs. Grabbing the bush branches, you pushed the thing apart roughly but saw... Nothing. The back of your hill sloped down a hill to where a lot of wild berry bushes and a few fruit trees were ending in a stream that came up to your shoulders almost with how deep it was. Another reason you chose to live here. Free food! You scowled looking around more but there was no signs of any creatures. No wolf either. Curses! It must've ran off before you could see it... You'd buy a trap in town. You were going to head there after you finished laundry anyways. Letting the bush go back the way it was before you angrily turned and stomped off back to the house.

"I'll be damned before I let a wolf make off with my animals. I'll put them all in the barn before I go but first I'm going to get the laundry done."

Unbeknownst to you, eyes opened up from the shadows and followed your form back to your home. You stopped in the doorway pausing... before turning around to fully face the backyard and the eyes widened.

Y O U  W E R E  T H E  M O S T  B E A U T I F U L  W O M A N  T H E   E Y E S' S  E V E R  S E E N.

A shiver went down your spine as you narrowed your eyes looking around.. before going back inside and continuing inside before closing the door behind you. Yeah. You'd finish up before you left for town and buy the BIGGEST trap they had. 

The eyes way he'd awestruck at the beautiful figure walking into the house and closing the door. A chicken wondered close to a different bush unknowing. A hand reached out. The chicken only gave out a muffled squeak before it was yanked into the woods never to be seen again.

You  finished hanging up the laundry inside and went back out to heard all your chickens back into the henhouse and locked up your still spooked cow safely in the small barn before you left for the town. You thought you heard a twig snapping in the woods behind you before you left down the road towards town but you were sure it was just the wind. You weren't as paranoid as the others in your town.  So you started down the forest path back to the nearest town. It was an hour's walk there and an hour walk back. A bit of a way to walk but you'd like to think it helped to discourage others from seeking you out most of the time. You started down the road..but kept looking over your shoulder thinking you heard someone...but nothing was ever there. You got the feeling something was watching you from your home and the feeling didn't go away until you couldn't see your house anymore. Then you felt more at ease. Probably was the wolf, or your paranoia that was thrown a bit since you weren't expecting it. However unbeknownst to you it was something much, much more supernatural than that.

The rest of the trip passed by without incident or without that sixth sense of something watching you. An hour later you arrived at the town. It looked as busy and crowded as you remembered and it was then you realized something. You might as well probably get your shopping done  since you were here. You'd be needing some more supplies. So off you went to the first spot which was a candle store, then a library, and a few more places. While at a certain book store however you again felt eyes on you, and this time you turned and found the source of them this time. Four men working on building the side of a new house were staring at you as you skimmed over some books near the doorway. Upon realizing that you saw them, two of them looked embarrassed and sent back to work quickly, one man smirked and winked at you, and another one politely smiled and waved. You frowned before quickly retreating into the store further.

Why did this happen EVERY TIME you went into town?!

You just wanted to get you some supplies and be on your way. On the way back through you stopped by the blacksmith. He sold hunters they needed from bows and arrows to knives to bear traps. You walked right in gaining a few looks from a few men in there looking over the knives and two of which were asking who was presumably the owner which one would be the best for deboning large fish. Amongst the swords and horse shoes, and other items you found the traps. Big ones. Obviously those were for hunting BIG game like bears. But there was others of a more reasonable si-You froze as someone leaned on the wall next to you. Arm above and out. A face smiling down at your head. You turned to see one of the hunters smiling down at you.

"Hello, Wood Dweller "

NOPE!!

You didn't even give him a chance to speak. You turned on your heels and RAN like the wolf itself was chasing you. NOPE NOPE NOPE!! NOT DEALING WITH THAT TODAY!! Besides you saw the prices written above the traps. Too expensive and you didn't have enough money. You'd have to use the old rope tied to the tree trick. Running down the street with basket in hand, you just happened to look up and noticed that the sun was setting. If you didn't want to walk alone in the dark, you'd better head home now. So that's exactly what you did. You veered quickly through the streets as people headed home quickly fearing the dark and so called 'monsters' that lurked in the dark. You didn't fear any fake monsters. You were more afraid of that wolf! But you needed to get back before your animals could be in danger again. So leaving the town behind you veered off the street and down the path leading you back home.

The light was quickly disappearing and you ran faster and faster down the road.  Shadows danced across the pathway before you as you went down the pathway. Trees blew creepily and creaked as if their branches were trying to reach out and grab you. To take you captive. It made a shiver run down your spine. You didn't reach your house until the last rays of light left the sky and plunged the world into total darkness. The moon high in the sky and crescent shaped like a sadistic grin. You ran right up to the front door, pulling it open but stopped and looked around you real quick. You saw nothing but the creaking wind and trees. You shivered again before you stepped inside and closed the door. Finally. You were safely home. With a sigh you leaned against the door for a long moment before reaching out to flip the lock. With the door safely locked you pushed yourself off the door smiling and carrying the large basket over to place it gently by your-....Wait a second. Blinking you turned to window and blinked. Your window's shutters were... Open? 

YOU DIDN'T LEAVE THOSE OPEN!!

You always closed your shutters before you left anywhere. Why were they open now? Especially when you KNEW you closed them before you left!! Stunned silence filled the dark house as you stared at it silently. Before slowly approaching it and looking out the window into the backyard. The moonlight hit everything in the yard. You saw nothing on the other side. Your brows furrowed. This was... strange. You remembered locking it shut before you left but you must've not locked it properly in your haste to get the trap. Which meant you had to go outside to close it again. ...your form slowly approached the back door and you grabbed a hold of the sliding door at the same time something was walking through the forest. Neither of you two noticed each other. However when you silently opened the door you froze when you heard it. The sounds of something coming from the other sides of the Bushes.

The SAME bushes the wolf disappeared into. But they sounded a bit farther away from the henhouse! That stupid wolf was back!!.. Your eyes flickered to the pitchfork by the he house. If you scared it away by threatening it then it would be unlikely to come back again. It worked once when a fox wouldn't stop trying to bother your hens. It should be work on a wolf too. And if comes down to a fight, you'd have a nice fur to sell in town tomorrow. Slowly you stepped out of the house and back towards the bush. Your bare feet touching the ground gently and quietly enough to not make yourself known. 

Step after step after step.

Quietly you stepped closer as and closer and CLOSER to the bush silently. Slowly behind the henhouse you went and stopped right in front of the bush. The wind blew swaying it's branches creepily and looked like thrashing arms. You grabbed a handful and silently and slowly pulled them back.

And you froze at what you saw-

[takeariskao3]

Hi Hannah! I saw your ask about someone reading TPFY in spite of the dramione endgame and I want you to know that isn't how all of us feel! I am so excited for your sequels and I can't wait to read your take on dramione because I know you won't bash Ron.

Any chance you have a spoiler or snippet you can share with us while we wait? 👀👀👀

LOVE YOU 😘

gahhh!!! this is so !!!!!! thanks for wanting to follow along even after installment 1 is finished and posted. that has me so excited for the follow ups, you have no idea!

i do have a little spoiler to share from the eventual draco/hermione fic <333

The clifftop made for a picturesque party, Draco could at least give the newlyweds that. The indigo sky yawned above, stars twinkling as if they were in on the celebration, while a light sea breeze wafted across the grassy moorland and inebriated the reception just as much as the libations. 

Most of the people in attendance were old school chums of either the bride’s or the groom’s, which made for an eclectic, and borderline frightening, combination of people. Draco had made it his life’s mission to avoid socializing with anyone from his youth, and yet there he was, forced into the undertaking against all his better instincts. 

He decided right then and there that he would never forgive Theo for it.

Leaning against the temporary bartop, Draco sipped his G&T and vaguely wondered how much longer he would have to stay at this infernal wedding.

A cascade of ginger hair floated toward him in her cream and ivory bridesmaid gown, bringing his self imposed isolation and silent suffering to an effective end. 

“Weasel,” he greeted without bothering to glance her way. 

“Oh, darling,” she lamented with a sardonic smile. “I’m afraid I’ve been Potty for years.”

He knew that, of course. It had been hard not to, with how often their names were splashed across headlines, but it felt…telling, somehow, to let on that he’d kept up with the basic knowledge of their lives. So, instead, Draco pulled a grimace. “My sincerest apologies for the misfortune.”

His rudeness didn’t put her off in the slightest, in fact she propped an elbow against the bar and looked like she might stay a while. Finnegan brought her a flute of sparkling wine, along with a grin and some pointless small talk. Then they were alone again; left to view the gathering from the perimeter of the fairy lights. 

Most everyone had taken to the dancefloor, the string quartet leading couples in an unnecessarily upbeat waltz. Potter, the one not currently standing next to Draco, had Lovegood in his arms and was trodding on the bride’s foot nearly every other box step. It was honestly painful to watch. Full of mirth, he wondered if perhaps the woman next to him preferred Draco’s company over her husband’s for that specific reason.

Not three feet away from Potter and Lovegood, Pansy and Longbottom weren’t bothering with the melody at all. Instead, they clung to each other in an obscene embrace that made Draco feel like he was intruding on something indecent. 

Then his gaze snagged on Granger, laughing without restraint as Terry Boot led her in small circles. She looked positively carefree. Nothing of the tight expressions or stunted pleasantries he’d grown used to. 

A pang of something reverberated through his middle. He fundamentally refused to identify it. 

Next to him, Weasley—no, Potter—God, this was getting confusing—Ginny followed his line of sight and the corners of her mouth twitched into an insufferable smirk. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” she inserted after a few short moments.

Downing his ice diluted cocktail, Draco waved to Finnegan for another and didn’t bother with an answer. 

“Harry mentioned you were helping them,” she murmured for his ears only. 

He raised an eyebrow. The last thing he needed was a sodding Gryffindor, let alone a Weasley, to examine his aims and motivations. So, he peered out over the crowd, seemingly unconcerned, and promptly deflected, “What’s it like?”

She glanced up at him with a pinched brow and let the silence ask the question for her. 

He clarified in a nefarious whisper, “To have the savior of the wizarding world collared and leashed?” 

Ginny laughed, and judging by the sparkle in her eyes, it was genuine. 

“I imagine it’s quite heady,” he continued, chasing down the moment when she would inevitably retreat. “To control someone so…distinguished.”

She gave him no such satisfaction. Ginny Potter turned to face him, mirroring his relaxed position, and considering him with an open and curious expression. He almost respected her for it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. 

“How very stereotypical,” she chuckled, “to examine a relationship on the basis of power. Did the conclusion of mutual trust and support really not occur to you?”

Draco scoffed. “It may have, but it’s the second to least probable explanation.”

“And your least probable?”

“That he’s a good shag.”

Something flinty and wicked ignited in her countenance and she grinned at him. 

“No,” Draco heaved dramatically. “Don’t tell me. It will ruin my life.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of champagne. 

The song drifted to an end and the swaying bodies slowed to a stop. Most everyone clapped politely in the interlude, while several others swapped partners or vacated the dancefloor altogether. 

Granger extricated herself from Terry Boot, and was halfway free from the throng, when Lovegood caught her hands and pulled her back. The two girls giggled happily, and Granger allowed herself to be led through a series of steps and twirls. It looked positively laughable. However, Draco couldn’t find a single sneering thought in his own head. 

A slight cough to his left pulled his attention back to the present. 

Fuck’s sake, Ginny had caught him staring. Again. 

Thankfully, Finnegan chose that moment to deliver Draco’s drink and he could ignore her knowing look by relishing the burn of gin at the back of his throat. 

Raising his glass to her in a farce of a toast, he made to escape. “Enjoy your evening, Potty.”

He’d only begun to move away when her low voice followed after him. “Hermione can’t resist a project.”

Draco turned halfway, icy indignation seeping into his bloodstream. Before he could decide on a rather un-witty retort, though, Ginny took a step closer. 

Steely determination hardened her features. “Make sure you’re worthy of it.”

“Or what?” he hissed. The taunt formulated smoothly and without hesitation. “I’ll have to deal with you?”

“Hermione is quite capable of handling you herself,” Ginny tossed him a small, terrifying smile. “But if you betray her, or Harry, I’ll gladly hide the body.”

His nostrils flared at being so brazenly threatened, but he had no doubt of her resolve, or frankly, her abilities. 

Ginny’s expression once again smoothed into passive amusement, and she tapped her glass against his lightly. “Enjoy your evening, Malfoy.”

[battlinghurricanes]

I swear to god I'm gonna finish this Laxeel fic I'm working on, and hopefully soon. I'm committed to this one, I need to actually complete a project for my sanity, also I'm cooking with this one tbh. It's very fun to write. I'm posting a couple snippets for motivation.

The premise follows my ideas about Laxus's expulsion from Fairy Tail coinciding with Gajeel's infiltration of Raven Tail

---

It kind of stings in an illogical way, to hear someone take his side after it’s too late. Or at least claim to.

“...Is that what you think?” Laxus reproaches, then continues before Gajeel can respond, “You did the same shit. I heard you when you said of course I would be a monster since I’ve got the master’s blood in me. I- remember that.”

It gives him at least a grain of satisfaction to see Gajeel wince a little. “Ah, true, I’ll give you that one. Sorry. Tacky, in retrospect, and also dumb. I was under the impression you were using the same type of magic he has. I didn’t know then that you’re a dragon slayer.”

Great. “Oh, thanks. Like that’s so much much better.” So he only changed his mind when he found out he and a different kind of magic, one he got in an even more artificial and undeserved way than inheritance. “I’ve got loads to be proud of there.”

A crooked frown tugs on Gajeel’s lips. “Your words, not mine. I’m not gonna pretend I know your whole story, that’s why I said it’s not my place to give my two cents. Take it however you want, all I mean is that I know dragon slayer magic. Adapting to it without a dragon to teach you, enough to wield it that well? That’s no mean feat- and I know no one else could’a done it for you. So yeah, that’s when your own strength hit me. And impressed me.”

A jagged, reedy peel of laughter breaks from Laxus, the sound rolling carelessly as he stretches back against all the tension in his spine, against the urge to tear at his scalp. “Motherfucker. Fuck that. Gh- Fuck that shit.” Lids closing, he lolls his head. “I was tryin’ to prove my strength to everyone and grow outta his shadow, and in the end, the only one who recognized my power as my own was one of the ones who fucking beat me anyway! What a fucking joke.” His throat aches.

---

“Cut the bullshit.” Gajeel blinks and tries to get the two Laxuses swimming across his vision to merge back into one. “You’re following me.”

“Gh... I’m not.” Laxus glares at his assertion and opens his mouth. “-But someone is.”

That makes him stop and hone the full weight of his attention in on him. If he were any worse at this, Gajeel would have let loose a taut breath from the feeling, but he’s good, and he knows that near truths make for excellent lies when he can afford them. With Laxus, he decides he can. “You’re strong, you’re known for it, and now you’re an independent mage. That garners attention.” He can see the unquestioning comprehension reflected in Laxus’s eyes, and he would bet his ass that several legal guilds have already tried scouting him, proving that point.

“Some people have been tailing ya, and I happen to be on a job to bring those same people to heel, get it? Honest, I’ve got no interest in breathing down your neck- you shouldn��t have to deal with anyone doing that. I know it’d drive me mad. But because I’m tracking them, it means I’m also all but tracking you half the time.”

Laxus rumbles quietly, “Who are they?”

“Can’t tell ya. It would compromise the person I’m trying to help if I talk about our agreement,” he fibs lightly, silently thanking the master for finally giving a run down of official contract stipulations and enforcement the other week. “Especially to a non guild member.”

Laxus huffs, the line of his scar skewing over his expression. Gajeel offers, “If they could put you in danger, I promise I’ll tell you anyway,” and it’s not a lie. “But as is, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

With a wary shift of his head, Laxus frowns, then he gestures at Gajeel’s bruised, half-bandaged ribs. “Is that so? Because I would think anyone who can do this to you has already proven themselves as dangerous. I’d rather know who I might end up dealing with.”

Gajeel doesn’t respond for a beat, too shocked by Laxus’s open acknowledgement of his strength. “O-oh.”

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Hey what the best and worst thing about writing your rewrite (currently reading it btw.Very good stuff)

For season 4 (if you ever get to doing that I mean) is it gonna stay similar to how it was in show or is it a complete overhaul in general ?

If so what changes do you have in mind for Believix ,Roxy,the earth fairies, Tir Na Nog and the white /black circle?

Thank you so much for the ask! I'm sorry, I got started writing and couldn't stop but since I'm at my computer I manged to hide this post that got Extremely long under a cut.

Also to anyone reading this who might be curious on my magic system, I have an abridged post explaining it here.

The best part is lore and worldbuilding and the consequences of those because oh boy do I sure love space and weird magic fuckery! I also greatly enjoy getting to expand on the things that were in the original story or at least implied but were never fully explained (such as timeline issues or planets that get brought up once and never again).

My least favourite part is kind of a weird one, it being the characters. You know, the whole reason for the story. But this is kinda because 1. I don’t have much skill in writing people and 2. Because I actually never learned how people work irl for whatever reason and tbh I hardly even know how I work, so having to get into the minds of characters and figure out how they think feel about things is definitely a struggle. Though I wouldn’t have started this rewrite if I wasn’t up for the challenge!

As for Season 4.

Here’s the thing, about season 4. There's a lot I really like about it and it introduced some really cool new elements to the story, but there’s a lot of things about it that I really don’t like, which is why when I first started this rewrite and planned out my general timeline, I made the very controversial decision to swap season 4 and season 2. I'll explain:

If Lord Darkar is basically a god of darkness and has been pulling the strings the whole time then it makes sense that he should be more of a final boss and have a build up instead of being revealed in season 2, doing fuck all and then getting defeated and never mentioned again. I want to build him up as an imposing evil that beings even as powerful as the Ancestral Witches kneel before. Which isn't really a thing that can be done in 2 seasons with the goal of the first season being defeat the Trix and getting Bloom used to the magic dimension.

Season 4 in place of season 2 is a bit more complicated to pull off but it still feels more coherent to me this way because you can introduce Roxy and Aisha together. And even if Roxy is a couple years behind them in school they can at least be trauma bonded together (/j). It also puts nearly everyone on uneven ground, giving them a lot of opportunities to develop and bond with each other as they all learn and adjust. It also helps that the Wizards are relatively lax enemies who aren’t showing up all the time to just generally ruin the Winx's day like the Trix, meaning there’s more room to show that growth too.

so to answer the second question, yes I'm doing season 4, but it is a complete overhaul.

As for the changes I'm making with season 4 plot points, there's a lot of them.

First and foremost, Believix. Due to the fact that season 4 is now season 2, the main 6 are going to be earning charmix (Roxy will earn it in season 3 instead of Enchantix because she is younger and far more inexperienced with magic), though how they do so will have a few tweaks (most notably that they actually know about Charmix prior to earning it). Believix as a transformation might be used in a possible story after the main one (seasons 1-4) ends, though I can say if it is, it will definitely be altered significantly. What I will be using, though again altering, are the Gifts of Destiny for the new season 4. I'm not gonna be elaborate a whole lot about this specific topic right now as I'm still progressively making my way through the first 2 seasons with an occasional thought thrown into the 3rd.

Secondly the Earth fairies, Tír na nÓg (teer-na-nohg, the original Irish spelling that I am Infinitely petty about) and The Wizards of the Black Circle are also Very. different. This would've been brought up in a post about the timeline I have yet to make for whatever reason, but using actual Irish myth about Tír na nÓg and a little bit of finaglling, I did my best to fix the weird timeline issue and because I don't forsee myself making a post about this any time soon I'll just explain it all here (though be warned because while I tried my best to explain things thoroughly (which also lead to a lot of text), I, as someone rewriting a story, have the benefit of foresight and so there are many interconnected plot points and elements that I haven't gotten around to explaining yet that might be a little confusing).

First off, The White and Black Circles. A Circle is a physical maifestation of a magic oath that binds you (and however many others there are) to a cause. Once the cause is completed, the circle will dissolve and you can go pursue other things in life, but until then you are constantly pulled back and even caused some pain if you attempt to stray from the goal. Breaking a circle requires an incredible amount of magic and is still not easy for even the most skilled magic users. "The Oath of the Black Circle" was an oath made by a Clann wizards, a few years before the fall of Domino, with the goal of ridding the Magic Dimension of fairies, who spread themselves out across the Magic Dimension like a plague. They split off into different, efficient factions, effectively eliminating a significant number of fairies and removing their wings (which, in my rewrite, do not grow back and leave a permanent scar). For the most part however, they weren't effective enough and, with the outbreak of war in the Magic Dimension after Domino's fall and the rise of the Company of Light, nearly all factions were eliminated before they could truly complete their goal. All but one. The faction sent to Earth.

Earth is at the edge of the Magic Dimension and the people of that world generally like to keep themselves and their magic to themselves, so it wasn't until the Wizards had already begun attacking the world that they actually discovered what was going on. The Wizards were ruthless in their hunt, hardly stopping at fairies after they discovered they could take the magic from other magical beings too. Earth was completely unprepared for an attack of such voracity and despite Queen Morgana and her Regent Nebula's best efforts to organise an army, they and every other magic being ended up having to retreat through a portal to Tír na nÓg opened by their Nymph, Lugh (Loo), fairy of shapeshifting.

(Before I go on I will just explain that, for each type of magic there is a being who is said to have made it (fire and the Great Dragon), a dimension dedicated to that magic exclusively (water and the Infinite Ocean), and each world has a main magic type that the vast majority of magic beings born there will have (Earth being form manipulation/shapeshifting and that magic being almost exclusive to Earth). The best ways to open a portal to a dimension is to be on a world with that magic and to be a user of that magic)

As everyone retreated to the safety of Tír na nÓg, the Wizards found out and began figuring out a way to use this as a trap, Duman helping to come up with a spell that could seal the portal and prevent anyone from getting in or out, which under the clause of their circle, counted as ridding the Magic Dimension of fairies if they could round them up through the portal. Lugh caught wind of this and him along with Morgana and Nebula managed come up with a spell that would seal away Earth's magic to Tír na nÓg should the portal be blocked off. This, in their eyes, was protecing their magic.

Both plans ended up working, though with some consequences. Morgana and Nebula lost their wings and were trapped in Tír na nÓg with everyone else. Lugh had to stay behind, both to protect Earth and to make sure the spell stuck, though in his efforts to do so, he also lost his wings. The Wizards though, they got caught up in the seal, freezing them inbetween dimensions and between time. Nobody on the other side of the portal knows how things played out beyond that both plans worked, and the rest of the magic dimension having minimal contact with Earth anyway and still being busy with war knew even less, just that Earth somehow lost its magic and everyone magical on it almost overnight.

The magic art of shapeshfting and form manipulation was subsiquently lost until Wizgiz was hired to work at Alfea and he began teaching it in an effort to revive it. It's not an exam subject though so everyone just treats it as a doss class.

The White Circle was formed by Nebula after she gave into grief and rage, swearing along with several other fairies that should they ever get out Tír na nÓg that they will not rest until the Wizards have suffered as they have. This mindset swept through the scared and angry people of Tír na nÓg causing a revolt against Morgana who only wanted to move on past this horrific event. Morgana and her husband were kicked off the throne and became outcasts for many years, enduring the violence of the people that they once ruled.

During this period, Morgana found out that she was pregnant which both her and Klaus were terrified about, knowing this was not a safe place or situation to raise their child but being unable to cope with the idea of losing it. They hid the pregancy from Nebula and the Major Fairies until their baby was born, where they still continued to try and hide. The Major Fairies were beginning to grow suspicious of Morgana and Klaus however and the couple knew that if they didn't do something soon, all 3 of their lives could be in danger.

It was around time that Morgana felt a shift in the barrier, like something had caused a small crack, and with enough magic it could be opened just enough to send a person and their baby through. Nebula felt this too however since she was also involved in the creation of the seal. She assumed Morgana was up to something, probably trying to escape without everyone else, and sent out an order to arrest her. In a panic, Morgana and Klaus agreed that he would leave with their child and he would wear a ring that muddled his memories and generally hid the two of them from magic since they didn't know if the Wizards were still lying in wait for someone to try and escape. It was a risk they were willing to take though if it meant the safety of their child.

And so Morgana was permanently imprisoned within the dungeons of Nebula's new kingdom and Klaus managed to just about get out with their kid. Klaus's escape had managed to open the gap just enough to let the Wizards slowly get out too, one by one.

Every single one of those 6 entered a whole new world when they got out due to the nature of Tír na nÓg. While it had only been 10 years in Tír na nÓg, it had been a thousand years everywhere else. Klaus immediately got to work setting up a life for him and his kid, almost completely forgetting about any life he might have had prior, and the Wizards realised that somehow, they had missed a fairy because their circle hadn't broken. They spent the next 15 odd years trying to get their bearings, figure out what the world is like now, and find a way to locate a fairy that seems to be completely hidden from their magic.

A huge magical event involving the stealing a certain Flame is what drew them to begin investigating Gardenia.

and there you have it! the entire history leading up to season 4 2's events!

Not exactly what you asked for, but I do hope you got something interesting out of this!

[bonesandthebees]

NOT EVEN GIVING MYSELF TIME TO WRITE A N ENDING NOTE TO LAST ASK IM SPEEDRUNNING THIS SHIT IHKGYDD

NOOOOOO THIS HAS ALREADY GONE TO SHIT SO FUCKING QUICK WHATRHFUCK

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THIS IS SO FUCKED THIS SIS FOSFUCKDJDKF

"This has happened before" oh my fucking god CHILLS what the FUCK

A FUCKIGN SYFRINGE??#?_?_!_ THAT ESCALETSD QUICKLY UH BEE WHAT THR RUFKCK???

What the fuck

NOOOO THIS IS SOO THIS SIS SPFCUCKSDUDPAHDODHSKFKDKDLF

NOOOOOO NO FUCKIGN WAYYY NOOOO THIS IS SO MANIPUTLKAITVEEE NOOO CANT U SEEEE NOOOO THIS IS WAY MORE FUCKED UP THAN I COULDVE IMAGINED HOKYFUCJINGHSITHSOSGSKFJSJDF NMOOOO NO WAYSHSKSKFLSLFJDK NOOODHFKDLD

YES TOMMY YWSHSOAHSLSJKD YESSJDJFKFL

What.

The. Fuck.

What.

What.

They can WHAT.

Omg jaw dropped ROCKETDUO?$??$?$?$ HELLOOOO

Oh god this chapter is fucking long I am terrified whaththefuck goes down ohkygoddd aaaaaaa

Pausing for now until I get home so I dont like have to wait an hour right after reading an almost death shfkfkfkfkkdkk

Okay back woot woot :D

Snuggled up in bed with my fairy lights on under two blankets and in my PJs I AM READY!!!!

OH MY FUCKING GOD WAIT.

JUST REALISED

SMOKE.

FIRE.

STATUE.

OH FUCK

NOOOOOO THIS IS SO EVIL OHKYFUCGODJDODJFLGKGLG

NOOOOOOOOOOO

WAIT. I DID NOT READ THAT RIGHT. HOLDUP. I JUST. NO. NO WAY. JACK DID NOT. THERES NO FUCKING WAY. WHATHTHEFUCK. OHMYGOD?

NO

WHAT

NO

OHMYGOD

NY MOUTH IS HUNG OPEN IN SHOCK WHAT

I'm putting onmysuperangstynplaylistforthissholyshit

Oh

My

God

I know he has the syringe but..but. but. But. But. But. But. That is traumatizing that is fucking traumatizing

Bee is this u practicing writing MCD for roses LMFAODJFKGK ohmygodddd I'm ow ow ow ohmyfuckingofdo ohmygod ohmygod the TRAUMA the fucking TRAUMAS the curse??? I mean. He's gonna come back to life but he died holyshit. Is Wilbur eve r gonna not wear a blindfold I'm insane. I'm so insane. I cannot. I don't even know what tod o ohkygod ohkudoboghdnsmfjfdls

This is so fucking cool I'm fucking obsessed

Oh god....

Oh god.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Everything hurts.

Everything hurts.

Ow.

HOW DID IT GET EVEN SADDER??$?$?#?#?$??_?_?_$ TOMMY FUCKING DIED IS THAY NOT ENOUGH OHMYGODDDD

It wasn't your time... That's totally why she didn't show up yes yes [cries]

HOW IS IR GETTING WORSE

JUST LET RHE BOYS REST OHMYGODDDJAKSHDKFKFLGF

WHERES PHIL AND TECHNO KHMYFUCGODDDDD

YESSS FUCK U SCHLATT MOTHERFUCKER!!!!

YESSDJFJGKDKFK I WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO USE HIS EYES AS A WEAPON YESSDDJFKGKD

Ily ranboo

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

That was so intense aaaaaaaaaaa

I don't even have WORDS, I'll probs have words once I read all the other asks but man. Man. I'm in shock. Wow. That was. So intense. Ohhhh my godddd so cool tho so so cool I'm gonna fozpsjdkf explodes beeeeee beeeeeee you're so good at writing holyshitttt this was such a satisfying climax ohmygoddddd aaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I'm not going to get over Tommy waking up and just. Demanding why Kristin wasn't there. That's so. Ow?? Ow..ouch. ouch. Ohmhgodddddskskfkdkskfjfkskf

Beeeeeee beeee I am not okay bee ohmygod diaowjdoxishdkskdjf

At least I can unmute the tags now woOOOO FJFKFLDLFLGLDKFLFLGG EXPLODES IM SO GONNA REREAD RHE SHIT OUTTA THE REVIVAL SCENE OHKYGODDD OUCHH OUCHIE OUCHIE OUCHIE I NEED DADZAAAA

ch 27 time lets go icy

yeah things go to shit really fast lmaoooo

loved finally getting to talk about the pythia curse story I've had that one written up for a while

the syringe is a surprise tool that will help us later :)

that whole convo was soooo manipulative and fucked up but also!! wilbur pushed through!! he held onto himself he's made so much progress!!

smoke :) tommy's lungs :)) jack manifold is there :)))

maybe it's me practicing my MCD writing for rose who knows you'll have to wait and see on that one lmao

tommy died and came back but death wasn't the great thing he'd always been promised it was. it wasn't warm and he wasn't comforted. he was cold and alone and terrified.

AND FUCK SCHLATT

thank you so much icy I'm so happy with how that chapter turned out. it really felt like the perfect climax to everything i'd been building towards the entire fic. so glad you enjoyed <3

[nanadreamzz]

in my little mind — lee taeyong.

✧ PAIRING: Taeyong (NCT) x Female.

✧ TROPE: Ex-lovers

✧ SUMMARY: Mei has not been able to get over her six-year relationship with Taeyong, which ended suddenly and without a conversation that really allowed her to close that void. A gloomy midnight, the explanations she has been searching for come to shake the feelings she has not been able to leave behind.

✧ WARNINGS: Angst, tiny sexual references.

✧ NOTES: Based on "In my little mind" by Hodge :) It's my first fic and english is not my mother tongue so keep that in mind please!

✧ WORD COUNT: 1k+

Whoever said that time was supposed to heal everything is a liar and owes me an apology. It has been so long, and I've not been able to forget about him ever since. How can I forget about the man of my dreams, my first and only love, the one that made me so cheerful and the one I fumbled so hard by being so insecure about everything?

He tried the best he could, we both know that he did everything he could possibly do for the sake of our relationship, but it wasn’t enough to save us, hoping for a happy ending it’s only for the fairy tales. This was the real world, where he pushed himself so hard to fight for a dried and broken person who just happened to be his long-time girlfriend: the one he was supposed to get married with today, a whole year and a half after his proposal.

Taeyong was persistent, I’ll always give him that. He saw me for who I was and not for what I gave him, he truly looked through me and it was reciprocated, that’s why we dated for almost six years before everything went downhill. Our relationship felt so safe and comfortable, it was one of a kind – it had the kind of spark people spent years longing and searching for, and I swear nothing could have ever prepared me for seeing him holding another girl’s hand down the street, much less for knowing that he now loves her enough to commit to her just six months into dating.

He loves her. At least, enough to give her the commitment he once wanted to give me, to grant her the eternal promise he once asked me for, between soft kisses and tears. Now I'll have to keep on living knowing that I lost him forever, his body is now touched by someone new, the family we always wanted now is something he would accomplish with her new girl, and I will never again be his.

I don’t know why I decided to look for him in the middle of the night with my eyes flooded with tears, knock on his door and watch him open it for me with a confused expression. God knows I wasn’t prepared to see his naked torso again, or his tired face from a long day, his messy hair and pale lips. The sight in front of me took me back to the intimate moments we had, the ones that I could never dare to speak about out loud, they were our secret.

“Mei? What are you doing here at this hour?” he said as he rubbed his eyes, almost trying to convince himself that my presence was not part of his imagination thanks to lack of sleep.

“I missed you, Yong. I don't think you're capable of even imagining how much, I just wanted to see your face again.”

I heard him sigh deeply, not out of relief, but rather in annoyance.

“You can't come to tell me this at this point, Mei. Not after everything that happened.”

My eyes began to sting, which partly annoyed me. I already knew this would be it, I knew there was nothing I could do and that I lost him forever, what did I think was going to happen? that he was going to welcome me back with open arms again? only an idiot would think that. What hurts me most about the whole situation was his obvious discomfort, how the atmosphere felt so uncomfortable, and it was so noticeable the fact that we no longer belonged to each other. I was no longer the bright girl, whose smile was able to light up even the darkest of scenarios, and he was still the noble boy I knew, but on his face, there was no hint of the love he used to have for me.

I was no longer the girl he fell in love with.

“She's going to be here any minute now. Please go home” His eyes were full of pity, he looked at me the same way he did when he decided to break up and I begged him not to. I hated that, to feel that the person I loved the most now felt sorry for me, it hurts me deeply to know that I gave him my heart and now he only sees me in sorrow.

“Please don’t look at me like that, Taeyong.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some sort of stray puppy. Don’t give me that grieving look.”

For the first time all night I dared to look up, he sighed in defeat and let me pass into his living room. I sat down on the couch and with my fingertips hesitantly touched its surface. This was the sofa I chose, he kept it. It was a very curious thing to see: the way he was with her but kept some of our things, it made me wonder if I still had a place in his heart as well.

As he came back from the kitchen with a glass of water, he looked at me like he was guessing my thoughts and said “Joohyun liked it a lot and said it was okay to keep it.”

So that’s her name: Joohyun.

“Yes, it is a beautiful sofa.” I said, “I remember falling in love with it as soon as I saw it, I couldn't wait to have it in our home.”

I could swear I have seen him squirm when he heard me say "our," as if it was strange and distant to acknowledge that there was ever an "us."

“Yeah, we used to be a team, Taeyong. I do not want to keep pretending we were nothing. We almost got married.” I had to take a sip of water to calm down and evade the urge to cry that had been consuming me since I arrived, especially now that I mentioned the marriage we never got.

“I don’t think I would feel comfortable talking about us, Mei.”

“We need to move on.”

“I have already moved on, Mei. I am getting married next month.”

Fuck.

His crude response was enough to make me settle back in my seat, the awkwardness that infused our conversation in the vast space pressed my heart into my chest. The most painful thing about knowing about someone who is no longer in your life is recognizing that, while you are still stuck in the same place, they seem to move forward more and more each day without you and the space you occupied in their lives is not even full because it no longer seems like it was there in the first place.

“Listen to me, Mei. I am deeply grateful for having spent six wonderful years together with you, for the good and for the not so good. I faithfully believe that you will always be part of my life for what you taught me in our time together, but that time has come to an end and it is time to accept it. I have forgiven your silence, your distance, the way you reflected your insecurities on me, and I only hope that you can forgive my mistakes and that you can move on with someone who is willing to love the new version of you that I will no longer know.”

Again, that sympathetic look.

At this point, my tears could no longer be held back. I felt my cheeks redden, my skin bristle and my eyes sting with intensity. It hurt me, it grieved me to think that the love of my life finally defined me by my mistakes and not by the love we had for each other. And I was no longer his love, but another girl who was now the one who could kiss him when he came home from work and hold his hand while he slept: that was no longer my place and I seemed to be the only one who couldn't accept it.

“I will always love you, Taeyong. I long for the day when I will be able to look you in the face without feeling anxious to go back to what we were, because there is nothing anymore.” I said, almost choking in my own words.

“I’m so sorry, Mei. I hope you shortly find what you long for.”

He offered to drive me home and I accepted, it might be the last time I would see him for some time because I told him I would not want to attend his wedding, and he will soon be moving to the suburbs with fiancé. It was for the best to have one last memory by his side, one last taste of the dailiness I wasted and could have had forever.

That night I slept poorly, and the following nights as well. I dreamed of his kisses, of his touch, of the sweet sound of his moans, everything came back to haunt me night after night preventing me from closing my eyes.

I also hope to shortly find what I'm longing for, Taeyong. In the meantime, I'll keep looking for you in other people until I find someone who makes me feel minimally like you did: in restaurants, in bars, in all the places we used to frequent. I will keep seeing you everywhere until I find you again.

© divinelymind, 2023 (all rights reserved, do not copy or translate without my permission).