#the one who caused this. u know who u are.

[yooniivrse]

bouquet | myg

summary. every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationsip au, fluff

word count: 1.3k

content: oc buys yoongi flowers / my man is whipped

warnings: none <333

notes: u can find the post explaining how i imagine yoongi and oc’s apartment here (in case u wanna visualise it better) likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

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main masterlist

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The fresh scent of flowers tickles your nose as you hold the bouquet close to your chest. You can't help but pride yourself in your selection as you admire the pale colours that caress each petal; an arrangement of pinks the same shade as the blush you often find creeping across your cheeks, oranges that mimic the morning sky on a winter day, yellows that remind you of the sunshine that warms your eyelids as you lie in bed during summer, and whites that reflect the hue of the moon.

It may not be perfect, but it's just right for your boyfriend — this you're sure of. Because it's Yoongi who causes your blushes and watches the sunrise with you in his arms despite the chilly weather; it's Yoongi who convinces you to stay in bed for "just a bit longer", until the day is almost gone but it doesn't feel wasted because it was spent with him.

Yoongi illuminates the dark skies that often haunt you, lighting up even your dullest days in his own way. And he whispers sweet nothings in your ear at night as if they're words from the moon itself.

Getting Yoongi flowers wasn't something you set out in the morning intending to do. You had come across the bouquets on your way back home from work, catching sight of them in the window of a quaint flower shop tucked in the corner of a street. It still baffles you how you had managed to not see the building for so long despite knowing the street like the back of your hand.

It was hard to miss too, given the amount of intricately put together bouquets wrapped in parchment paper and potted plants that were displayed on wooden stands just outside. They spilt out across the sidewalk, painting the grey town with the pop of colour it desperately needed.

You don't know what it was, but nothing had felt more right for you to do at that moment. So you marched in and paid an outrageous amount of money without a second thought.

And now, here you were — unable to hide the smile on your face despite the burn on your cheeks — watching the elevator ascend to the floor of your apartment. The pixelated numbers seemed to be moving slower than usual today, but you didn't linger on it for too long.

Eventually, the steel doors part to let you out, and you walk down the empty hallway to your apartment. It's a struggle to unlock the door with the flowers in one hand and your tote bag flimsily slung around your other shoulder, but you manage.

The door opens with a familiar creak and you step inside.

The immediate aroma of food that hits you is sudden, but also mouth-watering. You make your way down to the source of the smell — the kitchen — to find Yoongi working away at the stove.

A short towel hands around his neck, catching the droplets of water that fall from the ends of his hair. A loose, black t-shirt hangs on his figure, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. He hums an oddly staccato tune to himself, completely immersed in whatever he's cooking.

"Hi."

Yoongi's gaze immediately moves from the dish in front of him to you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello." He meets your eyes for a brief second before moving down to the flowers. He quirks an eyebrow, lifting his gaze again. "Special occasion?"

"No. I got them for you...just because," you reply with a shrug, walking over to him with the bouquet outstretched in your hands.

"Oh. I- Thank you." You don't fail to catch the tint of pink that creeps across his skin, slowly becoming prominent around the tips of his ears as he takes the flowers from your hand.

He stares at the arrangement for a few seconds, and you feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. He would like them, right?

"So, whatcha cooking?" you ask, eyeing the pot of noodles. A small pile of thinly cut cucumber rests on a cutting board just beside the stove, but before you can take in everything else displayed across the marble, Yoongi's lips are on yours.

You melt into the kiss almost instantly. Your heart soars in your chest and the nerves in your stomach wash away, only to be replaced by the erratic flutter of butterflies.

Yoongi tastes faintly of mint and love, and the pressure of his kiss is slightly stronger than usual — as if he's reminding you of who his heart belongs to, even though you're already well aware.

The feeling of knowing that you're loved is almost overwhelming, but you bask in it, unable to stop your lips from spreading into a smile against his mouth.

"God, I love you so much," Yoongi mumbles as he pulls back, tenderly moving a few strands of your hair behind your ear, and you giggle at his words.

"I love you too, baby," you reply. His eyes crinkle into soft crescent moons, and he places another peck against your lips.

"Where do you think we should put it?" He does a quick scan of the room and you follow his movements. The coffee table would've been your first option, but it's occupied by the flowers he got you on your most recent date.

"Hmm." Your eyes move down the room. "I think it should look fine in the bedroom."'

Yoongi hums in agreement. "You're right. I'll put them here for now, 'cause I'm fucking starving right now."

"Oh my God, same," you reply as he places the bouquet on the marble island behind him. "What are you making anyway?"

"Just jajangmyeon. You mentioned wanting it last night, so I thought I'd make it for you. Didn't want you to get food poisoning like last time when we went to that sketchy restaurant."

"You're amazing," you say, loudly kissing him on the cheek. "I was literally craving it all day today."

Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. "I knew you would be. Don't worry, it'll be ready pretty soon."

"I'll go get changed then. Don't burn down the house!"

"That's rich coming from you," he says with a snort.

You feign innocence with a shrug. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't."

As you leave the kitchen, your laughter still echoing in the room, Yoongi lingers by the bouquet. A feeling of warmth blooms across his skin, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with the stove.

Even as he continues to stir the noodles, the only thing he is focused on is the single thought in his head.

You really are the best thing that has happened to him.

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permanent taglist: @petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos

[gabbytbll]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 ⚠: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈⊘

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄'𝐒 ╰┈➤: 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬. 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐎𝐎𝐂! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭.

𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 - 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @k1ssyoursister 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡♡

ྐ✚ We all know he stalks you with mephisto 24/7 from his stalking he has learned everything about you and i mean everything.

ྐ✚ He knows what you like to eat the most so he will randomly buy food for you whenever he feels like u didn't eat enough.

ྐ✚ He is a VERY possessive man, so whenever he sees a guy or girl flirting with you then their usually dead by tomorrow for messing with his darling without his permission.

ྐ✚ He hates to make you scared of him but if he has to do something you don't like he throws that thought out the window to do what he thinks is best for his darling.

ྐ✚ You know not to go on dates with people but whenever sylus makes you mad, you disobey him to get back at him for something he did.

ྐ✚ He favorite punishment method is tying you up to the bed post and leaving you for hours with a vibrator teasing you while he leaves to go do work or he just sits there and watches you while playing with the settings to the vibrator on his phone.

ྐ✚ You know the rules he has set in place for you and he KNOW'S you like breaking them so every time you break a rule, he finds out different ways to punish you.

ྐ✚ This guy is the type of guy to break your legs if you try to leave him, he just loves his darling so much he can't help it.

ྐ✚ He would never force you to have sex with him, but he will get more needy and clingy until you give in to him.

ྐ✚ One of his favorite things to do in bed is to eat your pussy that man gets pussy drunk from how good you taste on his tongue, it's one of his favorite flavors he said.

ྐ✚ He would most definitely get your name tattooed on his chest or abs he doesn't care if you like it or not because he loves it.

ྐ✚ He can be submissive for you if you like him like that, but he prefers being dominate and in control of things.

ྐ✚ He loves how his dick can make you turn into a dumb whore, he likes to take videos of you like that and then show you later to embarrass you.

ྐ✚ Whenever you would be possessive back he would get instantly turned on he thinks you look so hot whenever your mad someone flirts with him.

ྐ✚ He loves to mark you anyway he can to show that you belong to him and no one else, he marks you in places you know you can't hide like under your chin or near your ear.

ྐ✚ When you got kidnapped by his enemy's, he started a war with the people who kidnapped or hurt you and of course he won just for you.

ྐ✚ Will have sex with you ANYWHERE he doesn't care about public decency when it comes to you, would kill anyone who seen you while you and him have sex cause only he can see you like that.

ྐ✚ He would kill anyone just because you said so or complained about them, he can't have his darling sad about what another person did to you that's a no no for him.

ྐ✚ You know how much he's obsessed with you, and you use it to your advantage sometimes because you love how he would do ANYTHING for you and i mean anything.

ྐ✚ He loves to take you on random expensive dates to whatever he feels like would impress you the most or what you love to do, from a sky restaurant to a massage place.

ྐ❤︎ " p- please slow d- down sylus" you said while arching your back, trying to run from his rough thrust's. He let out a breathy chuckle while watching you struggle from his rough pace " but darling you love it so much- i can feel you clench around me so tight" he said with a groan. You run your hands up his body to wrap your arms around his head to hold onto something. "ughnn please i c- cant" you said, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You clench around his dick as you have your third orgasm of the night. He lets out a small moan. "yesss good girl, cum on my dick" He groaned, words breathy. He started to move his head down to suck on your abused nipples. Your leg's give out as they start to shake around his hips from the overstimulation.

He grabs your hips and starts slamming you back against him making him go even deeper. The sounds of wet skin slapping fill's the hot air. You start moaning louder close to another orgasm. "I'm going to ungh cum ah- again" you said, out of breath. His thrusts turn irregular the more he gets close to his own release. "Fuck darling you're so tight you're going to cut my dick off" Sylus said, teeth grinding together he thinks he can taste metal.

His pace gets more desperate the more he thrusts into you. You start to lose your mind from how deep his is in you, you swear you can feel him in your womb. "Fuckk- ah- i'm cumming ugnh darling~" Sylus said, words slurring as his vison turns white for a couple seconds. It's like something snapped. You let out a loud moan as liquid squirted out from around his dick trying to push his dick out from your tight hole. You whole world turns white from pleasure. He lets out a groan from overstimulation, he almost cum's again from how tight you feel around him.

As you slowly come back down from pleasure you see him above you with a smug smirk. You ignore that look and tried to move from out of his hold to go clean up. "Aww don't be embarrassed darling it was rly hot" he said, with a breathy chuckle. You ignored his remark and tried to get up from the bed to stand up but failed. You let out a sigh "can you help me please" You said in a small voice. He gets up to help you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃

✧𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞,𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭✧

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭<𝟑

©️ 𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲𝐭𝐛𝐥𝐥. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

[jezebelblues]

in body and blood | h.s

pt. i

summary: over a century adrift in darkness, he found his sun—not in the dawn, but in the quiet fire of her love, a light fierce enough to bind even eternity.

cw: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

word count: approx 7.3k

I yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[7ouls]

im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

[hai7ani]

cocky motherfucker Rindou who works at Murasaki Sports that loves annoying you whenever you come by the store. he's a bit of a jerk with the way he acts, but still gives you staff discounts at checkout and a free sticker whenever you pop by because you once brought along your laptop while shopping and it had many weird alien, cat stickers on the cover. he recommends you a specific skateboard and he makes you buy it afterwards, claiming it's for making him waste saliva on explaining boards to a non-skater, but sets it up for free anyway and tells you the best spots to skate in the city. the board's not even for you anyway 一 you meant to buy it as a gift for your skater cousin, but okay, thanks, you'll pass along the message to your cousin, you guess... (you started skating ever since that day and gifted your cousin a pair of socks from New Era instead.)

you don't even know him that well 一 he's a friend of a friend of a friend from high school and you'd only met him once properly at a club party about a year ago when he accidentally got beer all over your shirt and threw you his expensive Carhartt jacket before running away. and then he somehow manages to befriend your BeReal later that night, reacts the middle finger to every post you make and you'll react it right back at him with a pissed off look on your face. he comments stuff like 'shit music' and 'u need a better playlist, hmu' when he sees whatever song you've been listening to when you take a BeReal but is always the first one to react to them.

he's still kind of sweet though. likes rapping along to whatever's playing on the speakers in store (you don't like to admit it, but you must say, he does have great music taste as he claims), but you'll always catch him twisting the volume knob to the left even though KOHH is playing whenever you come by to replace your wheels (of the skateboard he made you buy) or shop for a new cap and he's so cocky about it every time too. one time he made you wait for him about 15 minutes to close up the store and you expected to walk together to the train station until he turns the other direction and you hear beeping followed by car doors unlocking. "aren't you dumbass getting in?" he's already one foot in his car (a fucking Nissan GTR) with his left brow raised when you turned around 'cause you thought he disappeared into thin air and then stare at him dumbfounded as he starts the engine. ?????

he visits you at your own store (literally just opposite of Murasaki Sports) whenever you're in during his break and annoys the hell out of you. you sell phone cases and he likes trying on every single one he picks up only to never buy them and places them about 6° to the left that he knows make your skin crawl from the asymmetric position, but you'll catch him helping you tidy up the other out-of-place on-display phone cases and greet random customers that come in, as if he is the one working here and not you, and then only he tosses you either a Pocari or a Cola as a refreshment when he's gotta get back to work. he gives you (forces you to let him give you) a ride back home whenever your timing matches and'll quietly make sure the A/C isn't facing your face when you accidentally fall asleep in the passenger, but tells you to never sit in his car again 'cause he claims you get hair all over his seat and the sand-trapping mat below. ("y'all ladies and your hair-fall problem...")

one time your father caught the two of you bickering in the car over who's bar of Snickers it was but to him it looked like the two of you were kissing because of a perspective problem and he got so damn flustered. simply stepped into your home with his shoes on, scurrying after your old man to explain that nothing ever happened and then fist bumps your dog on the head who actually hates him like crazy, but doesn't bark at him this time. your mother makes him stay for dinner that night and you think that maybe he isn't so bad after all 一 as your best friend once suggested 一 when he makes your mother laugh like crazy (you realise then that he's a smooth talker with the elders) over dinner and your father starts asking him about sports attire because he's been wanting to get into jogging. but he keeps stepping on your toe under the table and you think he's deliberately annoying you but really, he just wanted to make you make your mother stop feeding him shrimp (he's allergic.)

[levandright]

HII this is my fluff wip tht i scratch away bc i hv too many smut reqs

Summary : One of them writes a love letter to get over their feelings, but it accidentally ends up in the other’s hands. Not knowing the letter is about them, they ask the writer for advice on how to respond to their own letter, sparking a chain of misunderstandings until the truth is revealed.

What i had in mind :

-Jake wrote it to y/n

-He accidentally lost the letter while he was walking on the hallway

-The letter ended up in front of y/n’s locker

-She picked it up and read it

-Told jake abt the letter (but they r both idiots) until somehow they figure it out bc it got obvious

Feel free to change the plot!! ( I might write a part 2 from ur fic if u make it <3)

Letter of the Heart

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : fluff, they're friends, funny misunderstanding cause they're idiots(jake specifically but its okay <3), highschool au ୨ৎ word count : 1k

synopsis. when y/n finds a love letter at her locker, she has no idea who it’s from, so she asks her best friend, jake, for help with what to say. jake, being the good friend he is, jumps in—giving advice, joking around, and even offering to “practice” her responses.

ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : ended this on a cliffhanger hehe >:3 hope you like what i did mama belle <3 cause i had an awesome time, thinking of what to add on to make it more fun.

it all starts with a love letter. jake, who’s been silently carrying a crush on you for ages, finally pours out his feelings on paper. he didn't plan on giving you the letter—it just something he wrote to work through his emotions. but the next day, while walking to class in a rush, the letter slips out of his notebook and lands right in front of your locker.

later, you spot the folded note, curious, and decide to read it. your heart flutters as you take in the words—gentle, vulnerable, clearly written by someone who has been holding these feelings close. but who could it be? the handwriting is neat, but familiar. intrigued, you decide to find out.

during break time, you bring it up to jake. “i found this letter outside my locker,” you say, holding it up, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “it’s… really sweet. but i have no idea who wrote it!”

jake, obliviously laughs. “a secret admirer, huh?” he teases, thinking of all the possible suspects. “what did it say?”

you blush reading a line out loud: “‘every time i see you smile, i feel like everything makes sense.’” jake’s heart skips a beat, hearing his own words, but he quickly pushes away the strange familiarity of it.

-------------

later that afternoon in the cafeteria. you hold up the love letter, cheeks flushed as you read through it again. you sigh looking to jake for help. “it says, ‘you make me believe in all the little things that make life beautiful.’ how… how am i supposed to respond to something like that?”

jake laughs, trying to brush off the pang of recognition he feels. did he… write that? he wonders but shakes the thought away, assuming it’s just an odd coincidence.

“maybe say something like, ‘i didn’t know i had such an impact on you!’” he suggests. “or if you want to be bolder, add, ‘tell me more about these little things.’ you know, just to tease them a bit.”

you beam, nodding. “that’s actually perfect! you’re a genius at this.”

jake chuckles, putting on a casual smile while his heart races. “just call me the love doctor.” he can’t shake the strange feeling, but he pushes it aside, too embarrassed to imagine he might be her admirer.

-------------

in the library the next day, you and jake go over the letter again, trying to analyze every word.

“whoever wrote this,” you murmur, pointing to a line, “has a way with words. ‘every time i see you smile, i feel like the world gets a little brighter.’ that’s… that’s intense. do you know anyone who’d say something like that?”

jake’s pulse quickens as the words ring a familiar bell in his head. that sounds like… something he would write.

trying to cover, he shrugs. “uh, well, it’s probably someone with a soft side,” he jokes, mentally kicking himself. “maybe they read a lot, or… watch a lot of rom-coms?”

you laugh, clearly enjoying the mystery. “could be… but it feels so genuine, like they really meant it.”

he tries to smile, but his mind races. could it really be… his own letter? the thought sends his heart racing, and he fights to keep his cool, feeling embarrassed that he might be guiding her response to his letter.

-------------

that night, as jake lies in bed, an unsettling thought lingers in his mind. could it actually be… my letter?

the more he thinks about it, the more familiar those lines sound, and his stomach twists with both excitement and dread. sitting up, he grabs his backpack and rummages through it, pulling out his notebook. he flips through the pages, looking for the tucked-away letter he remembers putting there. but as he gets to the back of the notebook, his stomach drops.

the letter isn’t there.

“no, no, no…” he mutters, flipping through each page again. but it’s nowhere to be found. he recalls that day in the hallway when he’d been rushing to class. it must’ve slipped out then!

jake groans, covering his face with both hands, completely mortified. 'she’s been reading my letter this whole time… and i’ve been helping her respond to it!'

-------------

as you sit in class together, you try to bring up the letter again. “so, about my response… i was thinking of adding a line about—”

jake quickly interrupts, laughing a bit too loudly. “oh, yeah, sure, whatever you think, it’s all good!” he blushes, then looks away. “i mean… i’m sure whoever it is would be thrilled with anything you say.”

you narros your eyes, studying his red face. “are you okay, jake? you’ve been acting really… weird since yesterday.”

jake scratches the back of his neck, glancing everywhere but you. “who, me? no, no, i’m fine. totally normal. it’s… totally normal for me to help you write a love letter to someone i don’t even know, right?”

he lets out a nervous laugh, mentally cringing at how ridiculous he sounds, and you just raise an eyebrow, watching him closely. is he blushing? you wonder, putting the pieces together bit by bit. but you don’t say anything yet, waiting for the right moment.

-------------

the next day, you read the letter over again, something finally clicking. as you recall jake’s reactions, the strange look in his eyes every time you talked about the letter, you suddenly realize the truth.

the next day during lunch, you turn to jake, a small knowing smile on your face. “jake… i have a hunch. about who wrote the letter.”

jake’s heart stops. “oh? who… who do you think it is?”

your eyes search his, twinkling with a new understanding. “i think it was… you.”

jake’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens, but before he can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. you stand up, leaving him stunned in his seat as you head off to class with a glance over your shoulder, you give him a teasing smile.

“see you after class, jakey~” you say with a playful tone.

jake is left sitting there, his heart racing, unsure of what you’ll say—or what he’ll say—when you finally meet again.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)requests. open!

©levandright

[loycos]

what did you make of the scene where caitlyn hits vi ? the timing of the blow was so unexpected to me…she was kinda steadying herself and then WHAM. What was going through her head ? Was she making some kind of decision ? Mind still reeling that she chose (?) to gut punch Vi to signal the end of their relationship.

well, i dont exactly know what made her make this decision. it looks like a momentary lashout based on rage. i think her rage comes from a place of betrayal, so she wants to make vi as hurt as that betrayal feels.

i actually think the "misunderstanding" thats happening here is very well written. clearly we as the audience see that caitlyn is becoming more and more unhinged. vi sees it as well. caitlyn might have missed the shot and killed a kid- her composure at that moment was very much shaken. most people, given this scenario, would choose to opt out. so to us, caitlyn being so insistent feels callous and irretional. which, it is. but lets look at it from caitlyn's perspective.

so, caitlyn feels a lot of guilt about the fact she didnt shoot jinx back at the dinner table. its very well established. she mainly blames herself, but i think a small subconscious part of her also blames vi- vi is the one who got her to hesitate, after all. the fact that she "messed up" last time and that caused so much grief and pain not only to herself, but to the 2 cities, makes her EXTREMELY determined to NEVER make that mistake again.

vi told caitlyn to not bring back up, so basically, theyre each other's only support. caitlyn agreed, that means that to her she put 100% of her trust in vi to help here and to have her back. vi told her, my sister is gone. when u have the chance, take the shot. caitlyn is convinced theyre on the same page here. so when vi turns on her, shes in utter disbelief, and she starts questioning whenever vi ever had HER best interest in mind.

thats why i think caitlyn is so obsessed with bringing up the idea of who's "side" vi is on. you could read it as "piltover vs zaun" but i think what she means is "me vs jinx". at the dinner party caitlyn didnt shoot because of vi, and she wonders whether or not the girl she sacrificed everything for would do the same for her.

and at that moment, after she missed her shots, again, because of vi, she comes to the realization that vi would never choose her over jinx. and she flips out.

now. thats how CAITLYN sees it, im pretty sure. we know there are other things at play that have affected vi's decision, and that caitlyn currently is not seeing the bigger picture. but that's what i think she felt that drew this severe of a reaction from her.

[dr-spectre]

As someone who's been in multiple fandom circles and calls themselves a Splatoon fan, I've seen a lot of focus and discussion on "THE LORE!!" and "CANON!!!" and to be honest with you... it's getting really tiring and I think people are just WAY TOO obsessed with what a wiki or an intern at Nintendo says rather than forming their own perspective on events and coming to their own unique conclusions.

Now, I wanna say, if talking about lore and discussing which elements are canon or not makes you happy and you love talking about that, then that's perfectly okay. It's fine. It's not for ME personally because my focus on Splatoon is the gameplay, music and the storytelling chops of each Hero Mode.

Story >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Canon for me any day of the week i do not care.

Because, to get away from Splatoon for a second, for my Sonic fans out there, you remember when Sega and the people behind the show Sonic Prime said that it was canon to the mainline Sonic timeline? And if you said otherwise you were technically wrong because "oh Sega said this, so it MUST be true!"

........But then everyone said that Sonic Prime cannot be canon to the mainline Sonic timeline because it has a fuck ton of inconsistencies? Yeah.... funny. Basically, don't put a lot of focus into "what actually happened" and "oh this is what the multi billion dollar corporation said!" because there's always gonna be one guy out there that goes "um this information kinda fucking damages the story in a severe way." (And sometimes that one guy is me.... hehehehe....)

I could obviously talk about.... you know.... Hypno Callie again for the 50th trillion time.... (and i will)..... This bitch.... I wanna love you girlie i really fucking do but Nintendo and millions of people make it hard to....

Nintendo set up Callie's villain arc decently in Splatoon 1 with the Splatfest dialogue, the Squid Sister stories and the Sunken Scrolls, yet they ultimately damaged the progression of the arc by saying "nah fuck u she got kidnapped and brainwashed, removing all of her memories and free will because fuck telling a good story with satisfying set up and pay off that allows for character growth. Fundamentals of storytelling? What are those?" And it also destroyed Callie as a character by reducing her to an object that the player "must save from da evil Octavioooo" and "oh look at her! She put the stupid brainwashing shades onnn againnn!! such a dumb fucking moron dumbass piece of shit right guys?!? lmaoooooooooo!! explore the dangers of addiction and how you need to seriously change your life and be surrounded by those you love in order to change bad habits?? Themes?? PFFTTT! NAWWW! THAT'S LAMEEEE!! It's Callie! No one cares about Callie!! She's stupiddd!!!"

(I talked about Callie in a tumblr comment section one time and I got made fun of for by a guy way older than me. I love humanity.)

It also ruined DJ Octavio's character too because, if what Nintendo said is true about what he did then he cannot be redeemed in Splatoon 3. He cannot go back on the shit he's done. But they try to redeem him out of nowhere and now he's all chill with the New Squidbeak Splatoon and appeared in the Grand Fest.... Yet what he did to Callie which Nintendo loves to push is truly TRULY unredeemable and if that's the case then welp.... I call that bad writing, straight up. It's bad writing.

I really hate it when something happens in a story and you perceive it in a certain way where you feel like it elevates the events, but then the company behind the story chooses to pick the worst outcomes possible just because? And everyone rolls with it just cause? Ugh...

Lesson of today is, don't fucking listen obsessively to what a company says and suck it up. Consume media and come to your own conclusions on what happened. As long as you have tangible evidence to back up your claims you can make any interpretation you want to, whatever makes you feel happy bestie!

[prapaiwife]

My tiktok is making me cry this morning 😭😭😭😭 but that's something that always gets me 🥺 when I rewatch lita and now knows with all the context on Sky. It's like, well, how could anyone know through payurain Story? u really wouldn't grasp on the fact that he has been through the most absolute pain, and his friends didn't notice. But also Sky didn't want them to know and let alone the full extent of his relationships or anything he went through understandably so. But when prapai comes into the picture, he is so fully aware and in tune with his emotions, and that makes him emotionally available to see the sky who is clearly holding so much in.

Back when they first met and slept together, he immediately felt so curious to sky as a person cause he's not like anyone he's ever met. And it was something that wasn't leaving his mind he kept thinking and thinking about him and how and why he looked like his eyes were crying out for help when he picks Sky up for breakfast, he now knows it's definitely more than what meets the eye here. This situation is serious, and he doesn't know what exactly, but he can see sky is in such a fragile, vulnerable, anxious state of mind. And no one's there to take care of him to tell him to stop. And so pai steps up and wants to be all of that for him and more as well. But he wants sky to see that his motives changed and it's so much more than what he wanted at first, he now sees sky as someone who Cleary needs someone and through that sky was able to see his genuine feelings and that trust that built up over time into their relationship🥺

[melancholyghoul]

!! 911 8x06 spoilers !!

I am HOME and I have THOUGHTS:

Eddie needs a huge fuckin hug

Domestic Madney is the best thing

Ofc Tommy was the one who broke Abbys heart (i don't like her, but i don't like tommy more)

I legit had a sneezing fit in class this morning that's scary

I fucking love josh oml what an icon

Also i believe he totally asked if he was kissing any other boys thinking 'has this boy finally kissed eddie' cause that smile bbg seriously

'And a VERY HANDSOME moustache' excuse me father 🤨 (i agree)

I will never get enough of sleeveless eddie

'We're gonna wiggle out of here just like wilmur' BRB sobbing

I know first relationships don't tend to last but you went into it expecting that of course it didn't

Im glad ur gone T fuck off WHY CALL HIM BUCK NOW YOURE LEAVING ???

seriously madney are fucking soul mates i love them and im so happy for them

Bros face looks naked now

SILLY EDDIE MY BELOVED IVE MISSED U

He purposefully put that shirt on just to wear it with nothing but underwear and socks - eddie i love you

Both buck and eddie being totally unfazed by their practically opposite demeanours is just perfect

'yay besties here let's get pissed <3' - eddie prolly

[louisisalarrie]

Hey how are u? I really like your point of view so I want to ask you few things that my brain frequently think about.

I’m pretty sure that sooner or later bbg will be unmasked, so how they will handle this? They created Louis’ public image around this baby. They painted him like the perfect father who obv love a lot his child.

I think that the shitstorm where his fans will throw him in will be bigger than everything. You know what I mean his solo fans paint him like the most loyal person in the world who trust his fans a lot and would never betray them. So I’m quite sure that they will start to throw shit on him, plus they’re so obsessed over this poor baby and I see a lot of them saying that if louis is not the father they will leave him cause he is just a gross person who lies to fans.

So, how will they managed it without throw him into a very big shitstorm? Plus when it will happen definitely all will be connect to the Larry situation so: when they do it, will he do also a coming out?

I don’t see it happen without a coming out, because the speculation would be so much bigger than ever and everyone would start saying that Larries were right since the beginning and that he’s a horrible person using a child…

I don’t know I don’t see a easy happy ending :(

okie dokie anon, im gonna answer this in the best way I know how, and tag it a little differently to usual so everyone knows where to find my theories on how they’re gonna end bbg/what’s the best way to end it without ruining louis’ career. anon, welcome to the show sweetcheeks!

After the absolute shit show of a smear campaign that was pushed onto Louis in 2015, of clubbing and being a gross fuckboy taking a million girls home every night, they had to repair said image when they decided this kid was actually gonna be born (in my theory it was Belfast) because to continue on with fuckboy louis when he has a child on the way further down the pregnancy/child is born, it would’ve looked even more fucking worse for one d’s demographic and louis’ image would be irreparable. His image has always hung off family values and long term relationships too, so it’s not super crazy to think “oh, louis has had his fun and now it’s serious he’s gonna buckle down and be a great dad because of his upbringing/family values and he’s a wonderful guy” etc, ya know? Plus the vast majority of one d fans at the time were Larries, we saw through the bullshit and we saw this behaviour wasn’t louis. Mgmt were like “ok if we’re actually gonna see this through, if there’s actually gonna be a child in the picture, he’s gonna have to be a present and loving dad”. It just would’ve been too off brand for him to not be. Hell, the whole fuckboy Louis thing was off brand for him, but they started that, and then had to fucking fix it because an actual child was gonna be born into this mess.

Anyway so louis’ buzzing (looks like he’d rather set himself on fire) and we get heaps of baby content on Insta/from B and her clan etc to really bring it home that louis cares about this kid. This kid is his life and he will do everything he can to be there for it because he’s a good guy (which like… it this was real, they would’ve covered up this baby real quick and silenced the mother and that’s the biggest fucking fault they made in my opinion, shit makes no sense). So yeah, fake baby, happy dad, family values. Cool, alright let’s go.

You are very correct in saying they’ve made louis being a dad a major element in his image. He’s pretty private otherwise, but boy does he love this kid! Which if we base this on how it was meant to end in 2016 with a DNA test so he’d be out free, which didn’t happen for a few reasons, the kid is now older and a paternity test should’ve been taken far earlier and louis’ trying to figure out himself in a solo career and working hard on music and it’s all too much. Not to mention he signed his fucking rights away to SC and still had to deal with this all. But I digress. They didn’t end bbg then, and he didn’t want such a scandal to hinder the beginning of his career because that’s what he’d be known for when starting out as a solo artist. “Oh did you hear about that dude from one direction? His kid isn’t actually his! Holy shit!” would just be on repeat anywhere and everywhere and something like that doesn’t really die down that quick in the media. It just would’ve jumped him off the wrong way after dealing with the heartbreak of his mum passing etc., so things are a little chaotic for him to deal with that as well. (Then the bbg contract gets amended and SC gives him publicity with the X Factor etc, but I won’t get into the contracts side of it right now).

Cool cool cool. So. He’s gonna look like a shit dude for chucking this baby in the spotlight if he’s known for ages. Everyone’s gonna hate him for lying to them. He’s gonna lose his fans. He’s not gonna be able to promo himself for a while because he’ll be “devastated”. Now, let’s have a look at how this can end with fan and GP sympathy on his side, and how they can spin this in a good way.

Now, hear me out.

We’ve talked about a few ways, but the best way to dig him out of this shit show, is simply to go down the paternity route. It just is.

Situation 1: louis and b go to court over F. this works perfectly in his current no music or tour timeframe. It keeps him relevant in the papers while he’s off, and also gives him the excuse to grieve or whatever. This is 100% the best way to do it but it drags it out so long.

- Louis, who is now on break, wants to spend more time with his beloved son little lad, and wants to take him away from B for a while to live in the UK with him and his family for an extended holiday/spend some quality time. B is withholding his son from him and he isn’t allowed to be with him for extended periods of time because B doesn’t like his lifestyle (partying, smoking, etc.)

Or

- maybe B decides Louis’ doing really well in his career so she wants more child support money. He’s getting older, more expensive, and this was all louis’ doing. He took B home, he’s also a multi millionaire, he should be paying way more than what he is!

- maybe B gets married or a long term serious boyfriend and he wants to adopt F because louis’ lifestyle doesn’t allow him to be present as much as he wants to.

Or something else ridiculous that they go to court over. In this theory, they need to go to court 100%.

So, they’re in court over whatever, and B goes “hey well I was actually sleeping with someone else around that time too, I want a paternity test” (because she never pushed for one because she saw $$$) and louis takes one and BAM, he’s actually not F’s father. Holy shit.

So why did a multimillionaire famous boyband member in his early 20’s who was clearly loving partying not demand a paternity test early one? Well, he never bothered to ask because he trusted B. They’d actually been seeing each other for longer than initially thought (like some articles mentioned back in the day LOL) but didn’t want to introduce her to the public because he knows 1d fans would eat her alive and the whole Larry thing etc., so he trusts her. He’s also just a really good dude, sees the best in everyone, trusted her and copped it on the chin and said well yeah… im gonna help raise this dude because I’ve always wanted a son and I have big family values and I fucked up. I’m mature. I’m a good example of what women should look for in a man.

So then shit… the fans and GP find out and he cops the public sympathy and everyone feels sorry for him. This is heartbreaking, he loves that kid so much and now he’s found out he’s not really his dad. The fans are devastated, the GP goes “well it’s stupid he didn’t get one earlier on but this is still really awful for him, poor guy. He’s too nice for his own good, and he was just a kid. Maybe he didn’t think about it. He’s so brave to say this. Heart on his sleeve” etc etc like it’s really not hard to make the GP and fans feel bad for you, even tho some folks may think he was an idiot for not getting one earlier on (which like.. that’s how it was meant to end but it was extended), everyone who’s scrutinised bbg has thought the same at some point. So, anyway, you see what I mean here? This situation ends with him looking like just a silly loving trusting guy, with a big heart. Solos will eat that shit up. I promise you. Anyway, F fades into the background and we don’t see any more content of him. He just… disappears. No one’s gonna question that. F isn’t his son, and he wants to give the kid and B privacy now. A classic example of being a good guy.

So like, this situation also upholds the idea that he’s straight. He’s had sex with a woman, it’s just this kid isn’t his. Anyway, sorted, case closed and we alll eventually move on. It does drag it out but my god does it truly spin some sympathy for him. But if he wants it over and done with quick, this wouldn’t be the way.

Situation 2: louis has known for a while, but him and B are really good friends so he’s helped raise F and helped with funds because the dad left and he wanted to be there for the kid. This brings out the lying factor though, but he truly does feel like a dad!!! He knows what it’s like to not have a father figure there, he wants to give the kid a good life, he’s taken on the role of his dad and he has the money to support B and F, so why wouldn’t he? You know, he has family values. So yeah, he wasn’t lying out of hate, and F knew all along he wasn’t his real dad either, but he gave this kid a great life. Anyway, B gets married or whatever, louis goes “im still gonna be there for F but I trust this guy and he loves F and my career is taking off even further and I can’t be there for him all the time and this guy really wants to be a dad, I’ll step back”. This also works well in terms of good guy louis, and he loves F so much. Public and fan sympathy, a little anger towards the lying but truly he’s just did what he could. He helped B out and now F has a strong and fantastic father figure in his life. Sorted, done. This can be done through an Insta live or a post of him and F explaining stuff, and F fades from the picture. Still upholds the sex with women, but he did get a paternity test ages ago, he’s just a good guy. Anyway, that also works.

You also have a spin on the above situation too though, to make it easier for a coming out. Louis and B never had sex. He’s just a long term good friend of hers and took on that role. He’s always been gay/he never fucked her. Having this onto it, really leaves it a bit more open ended. This is really the only kind of solution to say “hey I’ve been with Harry this whole time and bbg wasn’t a stunt” ya know? Still believable, a bit more murky, but if done well it ends it quicker than a court case. Still looks good for him. Plus, he can say how long he was with Harry and that they wanted to keep their relationship private because they were nervous to come out and yeah. Cool. That’s also done.

The fans might be angry about that one, but it still swings it well. I don’t think they’re gonna hate him. He might lose a few but… yeah. He’s always gonna when he comes out anyway. Yeah. The above is two birds one stone.

Situation 3: it was all a stunt. they just reveal absolutely everything. That’s it.

He’ll lose the most fans by doing this, but also… he’ll gain a lot of public sympathy. Whatever way they end bbg, he will be on the side of public and fan sympathy. He’s always gonna end up with some kind of hate when coming out, but so will Harry. It just… is what it is. Harry’s process has just been a lot smoother without a kid tied to him. But with the screaming of how shit the music industry is to artists, this will call a lot of attention to it all. Might actually make a change. But again, the hardest.

Now the thing with all of the above, right, no matter which way they take it, is that bisexuality exists. Also, sexuality can be fluid, so maybe he didnt figure out he was into dudes until later on in life and him and Harry reunited and it just kind of happened. He had to navigate queerness in a space of homophobia. He felt fucking lost as hell, and Harry helped him. Also public and fan sympathy, also works. Doesn’t put them from the beginning though, like situation 2 and 3 could, but yeah. The current conversation about queerness and how things can change is important and big right now. People would understand.

Both Harry and louis (more so louis) will and should expect fan and public hatred for lying and queerness. But it’s just something they’ll have to cop. They come out, go into hiding for a bit, and then put out a statement and they’re just gonna have to expect some hate. Hell, Harry already gets hate for queerbaiting. It just always will be affected.

To your last point, about using a kid, if they unravel everything then they’ll just shove that blame on SC etc, they had no choice! For the other situations, it may be a little scrutinised but yeah. He’s either silly and too trusting in situation 1, or does see F as his kid and is proud of him in situation 2. Those situations above are how I see a smoother end to bbg. They’re kind of the only way I see it ending. So, SC/marketing gods, if you’re watching, or if this is you, consider one of the above please and let’s end it fucking now.

So there you have it. These situations might seem stupid, but he comes out of it the most unscathed (except option 3 but again, sympathy from fans and public about being controlled like puppets). And I think in all those cases a coming out will happen shortly after, they kind of go hand in hand. But also they might let it die down for a while before announcing anything, but yeah. Speculation is gonna happen. They can’t escape everything.

Any questions or if anything doesn’t make sense because I haven’t had a coffee yet, let me knowwwwwww

Thanks for coming to the show!

[agirlandherquill]

friday kiss tag

thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet and @lamuradex

rules: share a kiss from your wip, it can be any kind of kiss!

ohohoho i have been looking forward to this one writeblr, let me tell you, today's snippet comes from my pirate story, which i'm steadily chipping away at and who knows, perhaps this weekend, i might have the first three chapters to share in their entirety!

“Stop it.”

“Or what? What are you going to do? You know that all that stands between you and me is that knife.” His chin dipped to the knife she was clutching white-knuckled in her hand, its tip digging into his chest as he rested the tips of his fingers above her head, leaning down over her, while her back was pressed firmly against the wall.

“I’ll use it.” She warned.

Lochley raised a brow, dropping his head a fraction to look her dead in the eye. “Then go ahead Maiden, I won’t be stopping you.”

“I told you not to call me that. I’ve told you that a thousand times. Why won’t you listen?”

“Because I enjoy hearing your voice, even when it’s telling me off.”

“See? That. You’re doing it again. Stop it.” She adjusted her grip on the knife, switching hands, flexing her other down by her side, attempting to relieve the ache in her knuckles whilst Lochley shifted, lowering himself onto his forearms, causing the knife to puncture his shirt. The sound of fabric tearing alarmed her, even more so when he took another half-step forward, allowing the blade to pierce his skin. “I have no intentions of doing that, regardless of any blade, or anything in my path.”

“Lochley.” She hissed out his name. “You’re being a fool. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m a man. I bleed. And now I’m bleeding on you.” A smile hovered over his lips, one that scared her deeply. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Adalia watched the crimson droplets seep into her gown, her most favourite gown, and clenched her jaw. He’s doing this to tease me. To test me. He wants to see me snap. He wants my anger? Fine. He shall have it. She went to slash his chest with the knife when he took a slight swaying step back, his hand seizing hers and slamming it out against the wall, extending her arm fully. His grip shifted to her wrist and he squeezed, forcing her fingers to open. The knife slipped from her grasp and into his waiting hand below. In a single, fluid motion, one so quick her eyes failed to catch it, he had the flat side of the blade pressing into her chin, tipping it up. He kept her arm pinned to the wall, kept her head in place with the knife and leant in close, trapping her with his body. 

“Are you angry, little Maiden?” His voice dripped with mocking.

Adalia bristled, glaring at him. “Very.”

“Do you hate me?” He tilted his head, smirking, his finger tapping the blade beneath her chin.

“With every thought in my mind. Every breath I take.”

“Good. That’s good. Though I wonder… How badly will you hate me for this?”

“Hate you for-” Adalia did not get to finish her sentence, her words were swallowed by Lochley’s lips crashing into hers. It was an angry kiss. A desperate one. A violent one that robbed her of speech, of breath, made worse by the cold warning of steel kissing her throat as he kissed her. 

She could die, and he was kissing her.

He knew she hated him, and he was kissing her.

She thought he hated her, and he was kissing her.

Adalia thought many things, felt even more impossibilities, and then none of it mattered, not a single thing, as she was kissing him. 

~ ~ ~

tag list time! open tag as always too!

@the-ellia-west @willtheweaver @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem

@coffin-hopping @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write

@r-u-living @thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired

@phoenixradiant @autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter

@missmisanthrope @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor @ihauntmyhouse

@shiningstars-world @scaewolf @just-emis-blog @joeys-piano @ramitola

@yrndrgn @riveriafalll @lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks

@justjariel @orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever

@thewritingautisticat @whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star

@chaotictravelerrants @andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet

@just-a-domesticated-cryptid @attemptingwriter @kitkins13 @ray-writes-n-shit

@theonewholivesinthemovies @rheas-chaos-motivation @bookwormclover

[hopkei]

brotherly affection(?)

[slymanner]

hurt my heart why dontcha.

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[silusvesuius]

baby👶 drawings. these are very dear to me rn.. 2nd pic is my Nelavis with @barvin0k's Varonur 🩵 last one is a baby bosmer and snow elf, hairiest of them all. although the bosmer was meant to be my girl Barletta too lols