#then I was like oh wait that’s irony tasting. that’s blood.

[pleaseget-out]

That’s a lot of blood!

[ghostlspirit]

Suffocated

(Male!Yan x gn! Mermaid/Siren Reader)

(part 1)

Masterlist

tw: Yandere, Imprisonment, mentions of cutting you open, Blood, idk I still try to keep things tame

note: Still trying to get comfortable lmao. I know mermay is over but I just had to write this. Exams are over and I can work on stuff now wohoo!! Hope this isn't too long. Happy Pride and I hope you enjoy~

You were a never-before-seen species. A mythical creature, a mermaid, a siren. Gifted with beautiful scales, a luscious tail, and captivating eyes. Every one is mesmerized.

Especially Krish, a researcher and part of the team of caretakers for you. He was also there when they found you, and boy, was that a day to remember. He remembers your open mouth full of sharp teeth trying to bite through the nets, and your voice, oh your voice, letting out screams and hisses as they dragged you up on boat.

He couldn't wait to research you! Who would have thought that a mermaid exists? Who knows how many more are out there, waiting to be discovered. He was beyond curious on your behavior and diet, how intelligent you are and if you understand humans. You must be curious too, Krish know it, you must be curious too, he says, while you look at him with those mesmerizing eyes. You never let him out of your sight, always watching him, hissing when he gets too close. You must be able to remember faces, he notes down in his notebook.

He watches you swim in your aquarium. Because of your size, and the lack of preparation, they opted to letting you stay in a Zoo aquarium for the meantime. Of course, no visitors are allowed here, and all the animals were moved, so you're alone in this...fake ocean, held up inside these glass walls.

You hated it. You hated everything, even yourself. Your mother always told you not to be stupid, not to be foolish and swim too high. Yet you just had to fight with her, argue and rebel, swimming in hopes of a new life, outside of your home. You wanted adventure, taste other seas and swim through different coral reefs. She was always against it, always so cautious and protective. You felt suffocated. What irony you find yourself in. Here you are, fake coral reefs surrounding you in a closed off space, swimming in water that tastes off, and some dammed creature watching you. You feel more suffocated than ever. This isn't what you wanted.

You're scared, terrified even. No tales, stories or warnings could have prepared you for this situation. What are you going to do? How are you going to get out? Will you ever see your mother again? Where even are you? What will they do to you? Are they going to eat you? Do they want your scales, or maybe eyes? You anxiously search for a corner to hide in to collect yourself, away from their gaze, away from his gaze.

Krish notes ever flicker of your tail, ever movement of your arms, everything you observe. You're probably struggling to get comfortable in your environment, is it too bright maybe? Or do you just need time? He has so many questions rushing through his mind, eyes practically shining like a kid opening presents.

The other researchers are just as excited as him, your very existence opening so many doors of possibilities. They have so much planned for you, from taking your measurements to opening you up to explore your insides. Not that Krish is unaware of their plans, he just suggests it would be more beneficial to observe and get to know you before putting you under the mercy of a scalpel. Thank God he has some authority, otherwise he doesn't get to experience your curiosity. Plus, who wouldn’t be more fitted for the task of getting to know you other than him?

Because of your sharp teeth he opts to getting you different kind of fishes, shells, and algae, to guess your preferences. Though for the first few days you seem to refuse to eat. After five days of having to fish out the remains of uneaten food, Krish comes personally to deliver the food at the opening at the top of the tank, in hopes of figuring you out. No, he isn't worried. You’ve been hiding, he is thinking of removing those hiding spots so he can have a better view. But that might make you more stressed, he can’t have that.

Krish has his blond hair in a bun, rain boots on, as he dangles a fish above the waters, occasionally dipping it in to create commotion. “Come one now, I know you’re hungry,” another dip, “It’s alright, you can come out,” he tries to keep his voice soft, as if he’s speaking to a puppy, “I know you want it.” Another few dips and now he’s keeping the fish in the water and swirling it around. Still no response. “You have to eat.” Still nothing. With a sigh he turns around and asks the assistant to dim the lights. He doesn’t notice the hand is still holding the fish under the water. He also doesn’t notice your predatory eyes, glowing in the depths, fixating on the fish.

A second passes, it’s as if time stopped, as you dart out of your spot. Krish turns around in time, and unaware, he meets your captivating eyes, right in front of him in the waters. He doesn’t even register anything else as everything happened so fast, he doesn’t even notice he has let go of the fish. With a quick bite you turn around, your tail splashing water in Krish’s face, as you dart back into your hiding place, fish between your teeth. The fish is leaving a trail of blood, and slowly Krish registers what happened. He blinks, dumbfounded, as your eyes and the sudden rush of adrenalin ignite a flame in him.

Drenched, he lets the voices of the worried assistance become a buzz in his mind. The trail of blood looking like a red string, connecting you both. It’s the proof that grounds his mind, knowing this interaction just happened, as short it might’ve been.

“The lights should stay dimmed”, he frantically scribbles in his notebook, “And order more of that fish.”

We wouldn’t want you to starve now.

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

Interlude: What a Day...

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 74K total

Status: Ongoing

(Chapter 11, Aug 28th)

Song for this Chapter: Elastic Heart -Sia

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Jump!

Interlude: What a Day…

The First Day...

The morning sun cast long, eerie shadows across the cobblestones outside Gale’s imposing wizard tower in Waterdeep, filling the crisp air with the scent of damp earth and lingering magic. Astarion paced nearby, his steps deliberate and measured. Look at me, reduced to pacing like a mortal. How charming, he thought, his mind racing. He needed to approach Sima with a clear head, to articulate his desires without the anger that had clouded their previous encounter. His crimson eyes flickered with determination as he took a deep breath, smoothing his clothes before stepping forward and calling out, voice steady yet tinged with urgency.

“Sima!”

His call echoed through the morning air, breaking the silence and drawing the attention of any passers-by. As he waited, Astarion took one more deep breath, gathering his thoughts and preparing himself for the difficult conversation to come. What a wretched irony, to cling to shadows while craving the light. Perhaps I’m nothing more than the monster I feared becoming. Despite his cool exterior, his heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. He would do anything to convince her to join him, even if it meant revealing a softer side he usually kept hidden.

Sima emerged onto the balcony from the night before, leaning over the railing. She wore a powder-blue dress, and her long black ringlets swung in the soft breeze of morning. "Well, look at what the tressym dragged in. I half-expected you to show up with your ghouls in tow. Nice to see reason prevails. What’s it to be? Demands? Threats? Promises?" she said, her tone weary as she stood high above him.

"Ah, my love," Astarion greeted her with a wry smile, tilting his head back to look up at her. "Still playing the part of the aloof lady in high places, I see. But no, no threats or demands this time. I’m here for a less... confrontational discussion." He took a moment to compose himself, his gaze never leaving hers, before continuing with a measure of earnestness he would usually hide. "I wish to talk, not as adversaries, but as... partners. You and me."

"Right, partners. Hmmm, I have to say you sound convincing. Vaguely. Wolf in sheep's clothing, no less. Fine, fly on up, but remember Gale has wards in place to keep me safe and sound right here," Sima said with a smirk, appreciating the countermeasures she had devised with her friend. The wind kicked up her powder-blue dress, revealing her legs and deep brown skin.

"Oh, I'm a wolf alright. You can trust me. At least, a little."

Astarion flew up in his bat form before transforming back. His eyes roamed over her, taking in the view and the way her legs were revealed by the wind. Ah, to taste the sweetness of her skin again. He had missed her so much, he had ached and burned for her presence, and now she was here, so close. He longed to touch, to kiss, to taste, but that would come in time... if he played his cards right.

"I think I prefer the bat, honestly. Oddly enough, you're less biting in that form. Get on with it, will you?" Sima leaned back against the railing of the balcony, eyeing him with suspicion and watching him as he walked around her. She crossed her bare legs under her dress, the wind of the high balcony blowing her black ringlet curls.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that? All you'd be doing is sitting here, watching me fly around. No, I much prefer this form, all the interesting things I can do. Wouldn't you agree, dear?" Astarion walked around her, circling, studying, eyeing every part of her with an intensity and desire. He stopped in front of her, his eyes still drawn to her legs, though his gaze slowly traveled up her body, along her neck, and landed on her face. Is this Cazador’s legacy? A wretched creature, clinging to power like a lifeline, even as it poisons everything it touches? He dismissed the thought. No, I’ve surpassed that miserable wretch. But still, here I am, clinging to power... It’s almost amusing how little has changed.

Sima scowled. "Considering all your utter bullshit last night and how you've treated me prior to my last month in hiding, you have some gall to look at me like that. You haven't earned the right to look at me like that," Sima said, quickly walking away, frustrated by his flippant attitude and thinking he could simply charm his way out of his horrid behavior. He had nearly killed her chasing her down in Baldur's Gate and nearly taking her by force in the Enclave weeks ago.

Astarion followed her around the balcony, matching her as she walked. Losing her... The final death? How poetic. The last vestige of the man I was, slipping through the fingers of a god. How utterly laughable. He maintained his composure, his voice softening as he spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Have I not earned the right to admire the woman who holds all my heart in her hands? Shall I gouge out my eyes so you are spared my gaze? Or would you rather I stop pursuing you? Stop trying. Stop loving you?" He stopped in front of her, blocking her path. He reached out, gently tracing her cheek with his fingers. His voice softened as he spoke.

Sima looked at him, square in the eyes. "Tell me, did you come here to trade barbs with me, or is there an actual use to you being here this morning? Otherwise, I would be happy to shove you off the balcony and see if you bounce when you hit the bottom of the cobblestones," Sima said before walking around him back to the door of her quarters connected to the balcony.

Astarion followed her again, though faster this time, and grabbed her wrist before she could get through the door. "No, no more of this. I'm not here to trade barbs with you." His voice was harsh, his grip on her wrist tight. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out with his free hand, gently cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I'm here because I have to talk to you. Because I'm not going anywhere until you listen to me."

Sima pulled away and raised her hand. "You want to talk, then talk. No touching. Got it? Say what you need to say," Sima said, crossing her arms and looking at him with pure frustration etched on her features.

Astarion grimaced. He didn't like being denied the ability to touch her, to touch his dear. What remains of me without you, darling? A god, perhaps, but a hollow one—clinging to the power that now feels like ash in my mouth. But he took a step back anyway. He knew if he pushed it further, he would get nowhere at all. "Fine. I'll keep my hands to myself. At least for now."

Astarion let out a frustrated sigh. He was struggling to control his emotions, to keep from shouting, screaming at her to listen to him. Madness... or simply the next step in this ascension? Descending into darkness—I should have expected as much. How delightfully tragic. He took a breath, composing himself. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Oh, there's quite a bit. Say, the hunt with your wolves. The bats. Oh, let's not forget the insane way you behaved back in Baldur's Gate at the Enclave, wanting to claim me. What, all of that is gone now, a month onwards?" Sima said, her face a visage of disdain. He had tried to force her to be with him, and she wasn't backing down.

Astarion's face soured as he heard her words, not the sweet sound of her voice. No, it was what she said that set him off. He clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he met her gaze. "No, it's not gone! Gods curse it, can you not understand? I want you, I want you to be mine!" he snapped back, his voice cold and sharp. "Is that really so much to ask? To want to protect you, to have you by my side always? To take care of you?"

"Oh, is that your offer? Protection? Partnership? Remember you said it yourself, we are partners right up against when it comes down to your authority over me. That's not a partnership, that's a farce!" Sima said, turning away from him and then coming back with her finger pointed. "And let's not forget your little game of kidnapping me after the ball and trying to keep me hostage. Your safety is a cage, Astarion."

Astarion's temper flared, his eyes narrowing in anger. The mention of the kidnapping and the threats sent a wave of frustration through him. You really are intent on making this difficult, aren't you? He took a deep breath, trying to maintain what little composure he had left. "And what would you prefer?" he snapped back, his voice low and menacing. "To be out on your own with no one watching your back? No one to protect you when you sleep at night? No one to care what happens to you?"

He moved closer to her, glaring down at her with an intensity that belied his facade of civility.It’s laughable, really—this tug-of-war between what I was and what I’ve become. Do you even see it, Sima? He clenched his hands into fists, the frustration and anger bubbling up inside of him. He'd tried to have a civil conversation with her, tried to explain himself, but it seemed like she just didn't understand.

"Oh, you think you can handle yourself, do you? You think you're strong enough to fend off every threat, to face the dangers of the world alone?" he retorted, his voice filled with mockery. Foolish, to think she can stand alone in this world. And yet... there’s something terrifying in her defiance—something I cannot control.

He took another step closer to her, towering over her, his eyes flashing. "I think you need to look into the mirror and realize the darker reasons you offer these things to me. Look at what you want. Look at how far you are willing to go to get it. You've already chased me across the Sword Coast. How far are you truly willing to go to make me stay?" Sima said, drawing a line between his supposed protection and dominance.

"You think I'm afraid to go further? I've come this far already, my love. Don't think I won't take whatever steps necessary to get what I want," Astarion said, his voice low and dangerous. He took yet another step towards her, closing the distance between them to mere inches. Would she even recognize me if I revealed how deeply this cuts? No. That’s a weakness I cannot afford. "I will do whatever it takes, Sima. If you think I'm going to let you slip through my fingers, you're sorely mistaken."

"If that's true, then do the thing that you are afraid to do. Respect what I want. My choices, the time to make them, and the desire that you need to recognize that I stand toe to toe with you. No half measures, no lies, no omissions or exceptions. You throw the offer of true vampirism at me, and just expect me to say yes. Well, damn you, and your fucking pride, I will not just give in," Sima said, softly pushing him back to give her some space on the balcony where they stood.

Astarion's face twisted into a snarl as she pushed him back, and he fought the urge to grab her and pull her close again. Her refusal rankled him, and his blood boiled with a mixture of frustration and desire. Of course, she resists. They always resist. But this time... this time, I won’t let go. "You really are intent on making this difficult, aren't you?" he said, his voice still low and his words dripping with sarcasm. "I am offering you everything, and you still refuse?! Do you not understand what that kind of power means? The things we could do together?"

"The power you would have. What's to say you will turn me into a true vampire? What's to say you won't just turn me into a spawn and have at it? What's to say that we don't have two thrones but one where you sit and me on a leash? All you've painted for me is this perfect picture, but what does sharing power with another vampire even look like to you? Especially in your domain," Sima said, challenging him, trying to pull out the kernels of truth in this fantasy he had woven.

Astarion's hands clenched into tight fists, but he refrained from grabbing her. A leash? Darling, that’s hardly romantic, is it? He tried to maintain his composure, trying to keep the sharp edge out of his voice. "We'd be equal partners, sweetheart. Or is that not what you want? I thought you were the type to crave adventure and power. Well, here it is, right in front of you. We could have that, together. Isn't that what you want?"

Sima looked into his crimson eyes. "Gods, it's like being back at camp all over again. The allure, the lure of power. Trying to get me to agree. Except now it's not a bite or blood, it's the very nature of who I am. I know you, I see you. You hunted me down, forcing me to stay. And now you dangle this instead of offering me a glimpse of who you once were. You refuse to let me in and don't blame the ascension. It's you choosing to cut yourself off. To be this... thing."

Astarion's nostrils flared as she spoke, her words cutting into him with a harshness that he couldn't deny. He wanted to protest, to defend himself, but the truth was that she was right. And what would you have me do? Lay my heart at your feet to be trampled on? I’m a vampire, my love. It’s in my nature to be possessive, dominant, and yes—to demand obedience. That’s who I am, dear. You of all people should know that.

"That's such a load of horseshit. You think I've been lying around doing nothing for a month in Waterdeep? I've read everything I can on your kind, everything. And let me tell you, you have a chance here to be something different. So if you want anything from me, you want this compromise you so delicately put together? Then you need to change. Don't bother coming to speak with me until you do. I am done with the threats, I am done with you not seeing me," Sima said, pressing a finger to his sternum before turning and going back to her balcony room, slamming the door behind her.

Astarion let out a frustrated growl as the door slammed, and he clenched his fists in anger. Her stubborn insistence on resisting me is more infuriating than my own internal battle against these cursed instincts. For a few minutes, he stood at the door, seething. His mind warred between the urge to force his way in, to use his strength to take what he wanted, and the knowledge that such an action would only drive her further away. But would that be so bad? To claim her by force, to finally end this tiresome game of wills?

With a curse, he turned away and stalked toward the balcony, transforming into his bat form and flying back down, endeavoring to continue their battle of wills in the coming days.

The Second Day...

The night had settled deep over Waterdeep when Astarion knocked on Gale's door, his composure masking the anticipation simmering beneath. The door opened to reveal Gale, who greeted him with a nod. Astarion’s gaze immediately found Sima across the room, her posture tense and her eyes sharp. She was a vision in her short leather skirt and black crop top, reminiscent of their earlier days—a reminder of the power she held over him.

“Gale, can you give us a moment, please?” Sima’s voice was tight, barely concealing the storm of emotions brewing inside her. He’s here again. Why can’t he just leave me alone? She tried to keep her composure, but the sight of him stirred a complicated mix of emotions—anger, longing, and something darker.

Gale hesitated, his eyes flicking between them, before he nodded. “Of course, take as long as you need,” he said, exiting with Tara following close behind.

Astarion didn’t move immediately, savoring the sight of Sima. His gaze was predatory, tracing the curve of her legs, the rise and fall of her chest, and the way her hair framed her face. He smirked, a calculated move to disarm her. “Well, hello there, darling,” he purred, his voice low and laden with promise.

That voice... gods, why does he have to sound like that? Sima’s pulse quickened despite herself. She hated that he still had this effect on her, hated how easily he could make her feel weak. But she refused to let him see it.

“This time using the front door. How much did you hate that instead of sneaking around like a thief in the night?” Sima’s words were sharp, but Astarion caught the flicker of something else in her eyes—something he could work with.

“Oh, you know me, darling. I do enjoy a surprise now and then.” He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if stalking prey. “But today, I thought a more... civilized approach was in order.”

Civilized... Sima almost laughed. He was anything but. Yet, as he closed the distance between them, the air between them crackled with tension, thick and palpable. Astarion’s gaze lingered on her lips, then trailed down to the curve of her neck, exposed and tempting. “And yes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear, “I’ve come to make my case, again.”

This is a game to him, Sima reminded herself, though the proximity of his lips to her ear sent a shiver down her spine. He’s always been so damn good at this... She stiffened, trying to regain control. “Well, the condemned man comes to visit. Only fitting I listen,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. “What’s it to be today? Threats? Pleas for partnership?”

Astarion chuckled, the sound dark and seductive. “Oh, my love, you think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” He moved closer, his body almost brushing against hers. The heat of him, the scent of him—leather, spice, and something uniquely Astarion—was intoxicating. “But I’m full of surprises.”

Surprises, she thought, her heart racing despite herself. That’s one way to put it. His fingers brushed her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her. The connection was instant, a sharp reminder of how easily he could affect her, and wholly unwelcome. She hated that he still had this power over her.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm, trailing up to her shoulder, where he let them linger, his touch both a caress and a claim. “No threats,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “No kidnappings. Just a civilized talk. But I must say, dear,” he continued, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur, “you look absolutely divine in that skirt.”

Sima’s breath hitched, the words stirring something deep within her. Damn it... She could feel the chill of his nose against the warmth of her neck, the contrast sending shivers down her spine. This is exactly what he wants. Don’t let him win... She steeled herself, trying to ignore the pull he had on her, the way her body responded to his every move. “If you think I don’t know what you’re doing, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” she said, her voice wavering as she tried to maintain her defiance. “There was a time when it was sincere, you know. Not a game or a ploy.”

Astarion sighed against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “You assume I’m not sincere every time I touch you,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “But I always have a reason for what I do. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean it’s not heartfelt. I want to be close to you, always.”

Always... The word echoed in her mind, twisting something deep inside her. But what does that mean when it comes from someone like him? He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his embrace, feeling the softness beneath his exterior. The possessive creature he had become wasn’t dangerous in this moment. But she knew better than to trust this calm.

His hands traced the curves of her hips, thighs, and waist, each touch more intimate, more possessive than the last. “You cannot truly fear me,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. “You know I would sooner die than allow harm to come to you.”

Sima let him hold her, her body betraying her resolve as it melted into his embrace. Why does it feel so safe, so... right? she wondered, her heart conflicted. For a moment, she allowed herself to drown in the sensation—the safety and danger, the pleasure and pain. But as his lips trailed along her cheek, her mind screamed for her to stop, to remember the pain he had caused her before. She pushed back, the movement breaking the spell he had cast over her. “No,” she whispered, almost to herself. “No, I deserve more than just this.”

Astarion’s heart ached as she pulled away, leaving him with a hollow emptiness. He stared at her, his breath ragged, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and disappointment. “More than just this?” he repeated, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief. “What more do you want from me, dear? I’m giving you everything I have.”

Everything... The word sounded hollow in her mind. But is it really? Sima’s eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “Trust, respect, to give me more than your body and to give me the part of you that is still there. That softness,” she said, her voice filled with anger and hurt. “I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing that you want to have control over me or not trusting me with all of you. You were always so much more to me than just your body, you know that.”

Astarion’s expression darkened as her words stung him to the core. He knew she was right, that there was more to himself that he was holding back. “You want that softness, do you?” he said through clenched teeth, “I tried to give it to you, dear, and look where it got me. The world doesn’t care if you’re kind, it doesn’t care if you’re vulnerable. It will tear you apart the moment you let your guard down.”

“How can you not trust me? I am not the rest of the world, I have bled with you, fought with you. How can you still not know better after all this time?” Sima looked at him incredulously, deeply pained and furious.

Astarion ran a hand through his hair, his frustration at himself and her frustration at him mixing into a toxic brew of emotion. “It’s not a question of trust, dear. It’s a question of survival. When you’ve been hurt as many times as I have, it’s hard to believe that any kind hand out there is genuine, that anyone isn’t just waiting to stab you in the back. It’s easier to take what you want before it can be taken from you.”

Survival? Sima thought, her anger flaring again. And what am I, in that calculation? “Well, you cannot take my love. I am not a thing to be conquered, I am not a thing to be won. I need us to be different. If I can’t find shelter with you, who can I find shelter with? If I can’t trust you, who in this godsforsaken world can I trust? Don’t you see? It’s not fair to me, to offer up pleasure and hold back the very thing that I need,” Sima said, opening up her hands as if she was willing to accept him if he could do this.

The sheer raw emotion of Sima’s outburst hit Astarion like a punch to the gut. He felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him—anger, guilt, helplessness.

“Dammit, Sima!” he exclaimed, his voice almost choked with frustration. “Of course, it’s not fair! Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t want it too? But every time we’ve tried this before, it’s gone wrong. Every time, I’ve ended up getting hurt!”

And what about me? Sima’s heart pounded with both anger and sorrow. You’re not the only one who’s suffered. “No! No. Don’t you dare bring up me leaving you! You know that was because of your need for control. You know it’s because you tried to force me into being your spawn. You know it was more about your need to keep everything as it was, than to let me in! You grasp at control and you push me away!” Sima yelled back, her voice echoing in Gale’s drawing room.

Astarion’s expression hardened, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you! You’re no saint in this, darling! You always act so high and mighty, but you’re not perfect. You’re not some shining beacon of good that can fix all my flaws. Maybe I do grasp for control, maybe I need control, just like you need to be all sweet and gentle and kind! Maybe that’s just who we are!”

Sweet and gentle? Sima’s anger flared. Is that all he sees? “Don’t you dare be sarcastic. You know I am being honest, and all you do, yet again, is run away. Maybe I left, but you ran first. You run from me, you run from yourself, and you run from what you are becoming!” Sima’s voice rose, filled with hurt and anger.

Astarion’s frustration boiled over, his control slipping even further. “And what exactly is it, dear, that I’m becoming, huh? A tyrant? A monster?” Astarion’s voice dripped with venom, the words laced with both anger and something deeper, a fear he refused to name. “Go on, say it! Say what we both know you’re thinking!”

Sima’s breath caught in her throat. “You’re becoming him. I am afraid, and you are becoming him.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He recoiled, but then something dark within him, something Ascendant, twisted the pain into anger, defiance. “And I suppose I should just let that get the better of me, is that it? Change who I am just to make you happy? I’m stronger than that, dear. I won’t shrink back just because you’re afraid I’m becoming him. I made a choice, I decided who I would be, and I will see it through. Your hands are just as bloody as mine, darling!”

Sima looked at him in dismay. “Then why even be here? Why keep trying if you think it’s pointless? Do you actually expect me to look past this? I may have helped you ascend, and yes, those bodies are on me, but I have suffered for a year since we parted. You know what happened to me in Calimport, you know the pain I feel every day! Don’t say I haven’t paid because I have. I lost you, and I lost myself the day you ascended.��

“You left me,” he shot back, stung at the implication that he hadn't suffered too in their separation, in some ways more than she had. He closed the gap between them, grabbing her shoulders, his fingers digging in just tightly enough to keep her from backing away. “You left me alone in that damned, empty, cold palace. I needed you.”

Sima pulled away. “And I need you to see me, to recognize me, to not push me away or push me behind you. Do you remember what you were like during those months when I was with you? Do you remember beginning to put me under your thumb? Of course not, because that doesn't matter, does it?! Love isn’t enough to get past this, and neither is sex. I need something more, and I have told you time and time again what that is, but you refuse me,” Sima said resoundingly before walking around him and leaving him in Gale’s drawing room as she left, going back up the stairs of the tower.

Astarion watched her leave, seething internally at the memory she brought up. He could remember, to an extent—flashes of memory more than anything. Not enough to know exactly what he’d said, but enough to know it had been unkind, dismissive, controlling. Enough to hate himself for it. He followed after her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done with you yet!”

Gale calmly walked in front of him before the stairs. “Oh yes, you are, my friend. Sima is the one who is the injured party in these talks, lest you forget. So I’m afraid if the lady says no... at least in my tower, it means that’s the end of that. Now, I am happy to entertain you with a bottle of something stiff, considering you might need it.”

Astarion scowled at Gale, bristling at being denied, being told he wasn’t needed or wanted, being denied what was his. But he also wasn’t in the mood to fight with Gale over this. “Fine. But whatever you give me, make it stronger than a child’s drink, would you?”

Gale humbly smirked and turned to fetch two bottles, leaving Astarion alone with Tara. The tressym eyed him with open boredom and disdain before speaking. “Honestly,” she said under her breath, her whiskers fluttering.

Astarion eyed the creature warily, taking in Tara’s unamused look. He sat down on the floor, looking up at her with a guarded expression. He could feel that she was no fan of him. “Yes, yes, I know, I’m detestable, I’ve heard it before.”

Tara looked at him and, like a regal creature, quickly stretched as if his personal issues were somewhat beneath her. “No, well, yes, Mr. Ancunin, but honestly, you’d think a vampire would have more charm. Yelling at the lady will do you no favors,” the weary tressym said, licking her fur and ruffling her wings.

Astarion bristled defensively. “And you’d think some mangy animal would know better than to interfere in people’s affairs,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “You have no idea what our relationship is like, so you should keep your mouth shut.”

Tara went on her hind legs and hissed at Astarion, her fur raised just in time for him to hiss back at her, like two territorial cats in one space.

“Don’t you dare hiss at me, you miserable wretch,” Astarion hissed, baring his fangs at her. At this moment, even Tara’s interference was the last thing he was in the mood to take.

Gale walked in talking, not even aware of the territorial hissing happening as he came in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “So let me tell you about this whiskey, my mother—what in the bleeding hells is going on here?” Gale looked from Tara, who had her hackles raised, to Astarion, who looked like some pacing feline.

“Your bloody cat is the problem,” Astarion protested, his voice rising in volume as his frustration over the issue spilled over onto the wizard. He was in no mood to discuss the finer points of this. “She’s here, again, meddling in my business. I don’t remember requesting any furry creatures to witness every moment of my day, and yet there she is, judging me every sodding minute.”

“Perhaps you deserve it, especially with how you treat your supposed lady. Mr. Dekarios, I think I shall check on our lovely Sima and leave you with the ...stray,” Tara hissed before flapping her wings and flying up the tower. Gale shot Astarion a hot gaze and shoved the bottle and glass into his hands. “Pour yourself a glass and get out of my tower. Looks like I have more trouble of yours to clean up,” Gale said, shaking his head as he left.

Astarion looked at the whiskey in his hand and took a long swig directly from the bottle before walking off to leave the tower, taking the bottle with him. As he walked, he muttered under his breath, “It’s all bloody well my own gods-damned business in the first place. Nosy feline. Interfering wizard.”

Astarion walked down the streets of the city, drinking his whiskey. The night around him was cold, the wind blowing through his hair. As he walked, he passed a few shady figures and some people clearly just looking for a good time. He had no doubt he could find some way to kill the evening, but none would bring him what he actually wanted, and that thought only made him more bitter. He took another long swig, letting the whiskey burn down his throat, filling his head with a buzzing haze.

What he could not forget were Sima’s parting words. Her desire for openness. Trust, to let her in. It gnawed at him, the very edges of what he thought he should be. Would be, as he was now, as a vampire lord. The burn of the whiskey did little to help the bitterness the conversation had left on his tongue.

He thought back to their conversation. A hundred times, a thousand times, her words echoed through his mind: “I do not want lies, I do not want distance. You do not trust me.” And she was right. He didn’t. He could not trust someone who had seen the darkest parts of him and still wanted to stay around. Who would willingly bind themselves to such a creature as me? But he would not be alone, not like that. That was not an existence he would accept, no matter what it cost. She will accept me, as I am, one way or another, he thought with a grim determination. He just had to convince her.

The Third Day...

Astarion paced in front of Gale's tower, the usual poise replaced by an uncharacteristic restlessness. The pale moon cast long shadows across the cobblestones, adding an eerie quality to the scene. He was done with waiting, with the delicate dance of words that masked his true desires. He called out, his voice sharper than usual, slicing through the dead of night.

"I have to talk to you! Now!"

The urgency in his tone betrayed his irritation. The words echoed in the quiet air, reflecting the tumult within him as he waited for her to appear.

Sima emerged onto the balcony in her nightrobe, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Are you drunk or just too sated on blood? Do you have any idea what hour it is?"

Astarion looked up, annoyance flickering across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, the charming facade slipping to reveal his frustration. "I don't give a damn what time it is. We need to talk, and we're doing it now."

Sima sighed, her eyes narrowing as she looked around. "Just so you know, the ward keeping me here extends beyond my balcony. I'll come down, just keep it down for gods' sake." With a muttered incantation, she cast Fly on herself and descended, her nightrobe billowing around her as she landed lightly on the cobblestones. "You'd better have a good explanation for this," she hissed.

Astarion's eyes followed her descent, his expression darkening. "No time for pleasantries, love," he said coldly. "This can't wait." He stepped towards her, his movements swift and purposeful. "We're done with the stalling, with the talking. I've made my position perfectly clear, but you've been avoiding the inevitable."

Sima's eyes flashed with anger. "What the hells does that mean? Your position is business as usual. Excuse me if an eternity under your thumb doesn't suit me!" Her voice was a hiss, her stance defiant.

He doesn’t understand—control is not love. I won’t be caged. Sima’s internal resolve was firm, but she couldn't help the slight tremor in her voice as she faced him.

"Under my thumb, is it?" Astarion retorted, irritation clear in his voice. "Funny, you never complained before. You seemed so willing, so eager to give yourself to me. What changed?" He stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You used to be mine, dear. You used to be mine, and I was yours. We were partners, remember? Equals."

Sima's eyes blazed with fury. "Oh, we stopped being equals some time ago, beloved," she spat, the endearment dripping with sarcasm. "I remember us living together, and those months of you turning things around. Difference, singular authority. The one in control, always! You don't share power, Astarion. You hoard it, even in our relationship. I can never have a fair share!" Her fists clenched, her body trembling with emotion.

What has become of me? A ruler or a tyrant? She sees only the monster... Astarion briefly wondered, the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it aside, steeling himself.

"I turned things around? I raised your station, gave you a life of luxury and privilege you could never have hoped to achieve on your own! What more do you want, darling?" He took another step towards her, his voice sharper. "And this nonsense about equality? It's rubbish. You're free to do as you please, as long as it pleases me as well."

"So insidiously hidden, the small print," Sima shot back. "What is equality if not the ability to withstand a difference in opinion? Did you ever really value my opinion, or did you just want a tumble and never felt anything for me at all? If you can't see me as an equal, a true one with value, then you can take your offer of true vampirism and stick it. I will not suffer another day being made to feel less by you!" Her voice trembled with a volatile mix of pain and anger.

Astarion's eyes darkened, his features hardening. "Is that what you thought? That all I wanted was a plaything, a doll to entertain me?" he spat. "You think I never cared? Never felt anything for you?" His breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of her accusations hanging heavy in the air. "You know that's not true. You know it, dammit!"

"Says the man who once put me in a chokehold and kissed me in front of our friends. Or have you forgotten what you were like right after the Ascension? Convenient, isn't it?" Sima's voice cracked with the pain behind her words. She turned away, her black ringlets swaying with her movement.

Astarion's lips curled back, baring his fangs. "Oh, I haven't forgotten, love. I haven't forgotten a single moment, a single touch. You think I would forget how perfect you looked when you were beneath me, submitting to me?" His voice dripped with venom, the memory still fresh and painful. "You think I'd forget the way you looked at me, the defiance in your eyes?"

Sima turned and slapped him hard across the face, her hands trembling as she brought them to her lips in horror. She couldn't bear hearing him speak that way about something that had hurt her so deeply.

Astarion took the slap, his head snapping to the side with the force of it. But he did not wince, did not shrink back. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned his head back to face her. "There she is," he said quietly, satisfaction lacing his words. "There's the fire I know so well."

How can love be both a prison and a promise? Sima’s inner voice was laced with fear and defiance, her heart torn between conflicting emotions.

Sima's eyes blazed with a mix of fury and pain. "I am... sorry. But you do not get to tote out one of my most painful moments and use it for a jest. You do not speak that way to me, ever. Do you understand me? Or I will burn whatever feelings I have for you. So help me by the gods, I will." Her voice trembled, her lip quivering.

Astarion's smile faded, his expression growing serious. "You wouldn't," he whispered, stepping closer. "You're bluffing. That fire within you, you can't deny it. You can't deny us, no matter how hard you fight it." He gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't lie to me. Don't you dare lie to me, my love."

"If you continue to treat me like this, I will do more than burn my feelings down for you. I will dance on the ashes," she spat, pushing his hand away. "You do not speak to me as if I am one of your whores. You understand me?" Her voice shook with anger and pain.

His hand dropped to his side, the smirk vanishing. "You think that's how I look at you? As if you were cheap flesh, some mere passing pleasure?" he sneered. "Don't insult me, darling. I may be many things, but I have never seen you as less than what you are." He took a step forward, his body rigid with tension. "You're mine. You will always be mine."

"Then never speak to me like that again. I will not stand for it," Sima said, crossing her arms, her brown eyes full of fury.

"And I will not stand for defiance." Astarion moved closer, his voice a low growl. "What, you expect me to simply ignore the way you behave? To ignore your insolence, your stubbornness, your willful disregard of my feelings?" His body was taut with anger, the lines of his face hardened.

"And do you think I will ignore your disrespect for who I am, my choices, and just give in to your selfish needs always? To ignore my very nature?" Sima shouted back, the tower behind her illuminated in moonlight. The light dappled on them both, highlighting the stark contrast between their desires.

Astarion's eyes narrowed, the veins in his neck standing out as his frustration grew. "Your selfishness, that's what this is about. Your refusal to yield, to submit to me." He lunged forward, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her closer, his grip tight enough to be painful. "You think I enjoy this, that I want to demand your obedience? I would do anything to make you happy if you would just give in."

Why does she resist? Can she not see that this is the only way? Astarion’s thoughts were laced with frustration and desperation as he tried to understand her resistance.

Sima took a deep breath and calmly pushed him away. She looked into his eyes, the brown irises dark and defiant. "No, I will not. I will not accept anything less than being your equal, your true equal. I will not come home with you," she said, softly prying his hands off her shoulders, her stance firm and sure.

He leaned down, his face just inches from hers. "Is it really so difficult to understand? If you would just do as I say, all of this pain, all of this difficulty, it would go away. It doesn't have to be like this, not between us." His hands slid up her arms and over her shoulders, coming to rest gently on either side of her neck, his thumbs lightly tracing her jawline. "Just give in to me, love, and I will make you happy. I promise you. Trust me."

But can I trust him? Can I trust myself? Sima’s thoughts swirled in turmoil as she looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words and the pull of his touch.

Sima looked into his crimson eyes and saw two sides of him fighting within—the man she loved and the Ascendant who wanted nothing more than to rule. She couldn't tell which side was winning. She softly removed his hands from her and closed her eyes. "I need time, time away from you to make this choice. I can't come with you to Baldur's Gate, not like this. Not with you like this," she said gently, holding his hands before letting go of them and stepping backward towards the tower.

Astarion's hands lingered on her neck for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes dark and calculating in the night. "Time. You want time away from me? You want to think about this, to consider your options?"

He took a step back, his jaw clenching in frustration. "Very well. Have it your way, my love. Take your time. But remember this: no matter how far you run, no matter how long you wait, you will always belong to me."

Sima narrowed her eyes at him. "And perhaps you should take this time too. To see if you are willing to give the things I need, rather than just the things you wish to give me." She spoke softly before turning to head back inside Gale's Wizard Tower, the night air filling the space where she once stood as she closed the grand doors behind her, leaving Astarion on the cobblestones.

Astarion stood, watching the closed door for a long moment, his mind racing. Her words stung, though he made no effort to show it, his expression blank and cold. Damn her… I can’t lose her, but I can’t change either. His thoughts warred within him, the Ascendant in him pushing for control, the man in him yearning for something more.

He stood in place, alone in the night, until he finally turned and walked away, the echo of her words ringing in his mind like a warning bell, a challenge he refused to let slide. With a final, lingering look at the tower, Astarion turned away, his mind already plotting the next move. He would return, and next time, he would not leave without her.

[materialgworlas]

Revenge- Jujutsu Kaisen Cast X Reader part 1

Synopsis: You aint been too happy ab Toji getting kicked out the group chat so decide to make Emogumi and the others pay.

This post was so fun to make with @jordanahart bsf lysmmm and instead of 'Y/n' we used 'Jordan' as my lil gift to her but feel free to sub in your own name

Warning: mild language, Gojo's a jealous mess, u n Toji causing mayhem, Megumi 13th reason

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

BEE-

What the- an alarm? Who the hell put this here?? I didn’t peg Toji for an alarm kinda guy… but then again there’s a whole lot I don’t know about him. I guess that’s why Gojo thought it best to ship me off to stay with him for the week while my dorm is being fumigated.

Megumi sighed as he sat up, lazily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The boy heard a faint commotion coming from the kitchen before the overwhelming smell of eggs and bacon filled his senses.

Smells good, didn’t know the guy could cook. Megumi thought as he tumbled out the bed.

He was confused to find Toji in the living room though, sprawled on the couch watching the Maury show a boisterous laugh escaped the man as dumb ass debby made a run for it when Miguel was declared NOT the father. “GET HER!” he continued laughing, enjoying the hilarious chase between her and the camera man, almost tearing up as the video became blurrier from all the running.

The teenage-sorcerer just stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, finding irony in TOJI laughing at this show, of all people. “Oh hey kid.” The man grunted, finally noticing the boy’s presence.

“Hey.” He greeted back, “what’s Cooking?”

“Dunno, ask.”

The boy scoffed at his father before padding to the kitchen, assuming it was some fancy Maid Gojo hired.

“Oh hey emogumi.”

“Jord-.”

WAIT WHY THE FUCK IS JORDAN HERE?!??!

NO, GOD NO! THIS ISNT HAPPENING! THIS IS JUST LIKE THAT NIGHTMARE I HAD 2 WEEKS AGO- wait. Im probably overreacting. I’m sure there’s a good reason JORDAN- MY CLASSMATE OBSESSED WITH MY FATHER- is here, I hope.

“Mtch, quit staring n hand me that towel.” Her words snapped him out of his daze.

“The hell are you doing here L/n.” Megumi huffed, slinging her the towel.

“Makin breakfast dumbass.” She laughed, fluttering passed him to reach the pantry.

“Right, why tho.”

“well I mean, have u SEEN Toji cook?! Total carnage. And don’t get me started on actually TASTING IT-“

“Okay, we get it. I’m useless in the kitchen.” Toji cut her off with a sigh, ruffling her hair making Jordan let out a girly giggle Megumi could only gag at.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not useless at alota other things-“

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE-

“Ay Emogumi, u brush your teeth?” Jordan spoke again

“Huh-“

“EEEWWW you NASTY mf. Go-on n do it now before you eat breakfast.” She tsked

“i-“

“You should listen to your- I mean, Jordan.” Toji said

Speechless, Megumi quietly made his way up the stairs.

“N make sure you air out yo room. whole place was MUSTY when I put yo alarm there.”

“That was you?!” He yelped from up the stairs

As Megumi sulked back down the stairs, the sound of giggling in the living room made his heart drop, the young sorcerer stopped just short of the entrance.

Come on Fushiguro, you’ve faced worse than this; Thousand-year-old curses, Gojo’s goth era- there’s nothing Jordan can do which would be worse than seeing that grown man in black lipstick and eye make-up wailing nirvana around the campus-

“mtch you just gonna stand there emogumi?” Jordan raised an eyebrow to her classmate standing in the hallway, a distant look in his eyes.

As his eyes met hers the boy’s mind went blank. OH GOD WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING!??!?! ITS WORSE, ITS WORSE. THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE. A hot shoot of blood sprang from the boy’s nose looking at the unholy sight of Jordan on Toji’s lap with her hands under his shirt.

“You alright kid?” the older man grunted, a little disturbed by the wild look in his eyes, though he was only responded with silence. The pair chose to ignore the boy, focusing on how debby was now tryna pick a fight with Miguel’s girlfriend on the Maury show.

They didn’t notice the flash of Megumi’s phone as he took a picture and sent it to the group chat.

taglist: @gloryous51 @absoluteindulgence @platonictoad @chichimisaki @hoohoohope @callmekda @shuxjodie @stuff101 @ascybous @hoe42dmen @aziwa-s-wife @lady-cryptstone

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday Actually on a Wednesday (Go Figure)

You guys were sooooo nice to me when I posted last night, I wanted to post a little bit more for you guys today. Under the cut because we’ve got some smut. Enjoy <3

“Is that it? You’re looking for something a little more… forceful?” asks Karlach.

“I’m looking for anything you can give me.”

And Astarion knows she can give him so much, wants to give him so much. He’s waited for her for so long and he’ll wait for her longer. Never before has he had the build up before the taste. So much of being with Karlach had been patience and restraint and it had been nice, but now? Now, he wants reckless abandon.

Her hand comes up off of the bruising grip of his waist to wrap around his throat. Both of his hands come up, grip her hand out of instinct, but there’s no panic. He trusts her. Oh, he trusts her with his everything. So when she squeezes, he feels his stomach flip and hears a keening noise escape that takes a moment to register is him.

“I can give you anything,” she purrs, a low rumble to her voice that makes Astarion absolutely throb. “But what about what I want to take?”

“Y-You—“ Astarion pants, licking his dry lips with drier tongue. “You think you can take it from me?”

And when she tightens her grip, a masterful hold on his jugular with her middle finger and thumb, Astarion can’t help the way that he full-on moans, especially when she pulls him, lifting him onto his toes and closer to her face.

“I don’t think you could stop me.”

It’s how he ends up in his tent, down against the bedding, Karlach’s tongue in his mouth and her body pinning his down. She’s always been stronger than him, but this feels different. Karlach is cutting off his air with her strong hand, grinding her knee into his crotch in a way that has him wordlessly begging for her. She doesn’t even seem to care that he’s coming apart at the seams as she pulls back, mouth a red, wet mess.

“Oh, look at you,” she taunts, squeezing his throat and laughing when he gurgles. “There’s nothing you can do, is there? Just lying there, taking it. Gods, you’re so pathetic.”

And he claws at her hand, trying and fighting to find air or form words, but elated at the fact he’s helpless to do anything. He feels pathetic like this, tears pricking his eyes as he writhes beneath her.

“Held down and captive, yet you’re getting hard. I can feel it, love. You’re grinding into my knee. Do you need it that bad that you’re prostrating yourself for your captor?”

Yes, yes, yes! He does need it that bad and he needs it from her, gods, he only ever needs it from her. He bucks his hips, grinding into her knee and when she pushes down further, harder, sharper, he bucks and cries, swearing he could cum on the spot just from this.

Karlach shifts her weight, pushes down harder on his throat and his head starts swimming. It’s not the lack of air that’s doing him in, it’s the pressure and the voice and the cut off of blood he’s drank no longer swimming through his veins. Her blood, held back by her hand: he sees the irony in it.

“Are you that depraved that you’ll cum like this? Not even touched, not even relieved, just in your pants like some desperate whore?”

He doesn’t even want to deny it. If she talks at him like this, strings him out, he will cum and be as pathetic as she or anyone else has seen him. While he pretends to be better, he knows better—Astarion is pathetic beneath it all.

“Go on, then,” she baits. “If you’re so damned desperate, show me.”

He stares at her, vision swimming with tears as she cocks an eyebrow at him. Swallowing thickly, he feels her thick fingers on his throat and gasps beneath it. She’s not moving her knee anymore, holds it stationary against his crotch and, when he bucks, she doesn’t lean into it.

Oh, she actually means it.

He lifts and lowers his hips, rubbing against her knee like some kind of dog in heat. Over and over, he gyrates against her. His breath is coming in pants as a bastardized pleasure crawls through his body. He’s leaking into his pants, against her knee, but he can’t stop. She’s laughing at him, flexing her fingers to remind him who’s in charge, who’s the one controlling him. All he can do is pant and whine and continue to grind like a beast.

He croaks out, tries to give her some kind of warning, but the grip on his throat has made his head fuzzy and pleasure made his tongue useless.

“Oh, already? Gods, you can’t even hold it together. If you’re that fucking worthless, spray like a bitch, then. I told you to show me.”

He pants, moves his hips faster and sharper, the rough fabric of his pants grating against his cock, but Karlach is staring down her nose at him and tightening her fingers and her knee is firm and— and— and—!

Astarion’s back arches as he humps her leg, cumming against her as he dirties himself for her pleasure. He knows it’s going to stain his clothes, that it’ll take awhile to clean out, but all he can do is pant as he pumps his hips pitifully before falling back.

When his vision clears, he sees her annoyed, critical stare. If it wasn’t for the thumb stroking over his pulse point, the other hand rubbing his sternum, he’d think she was serious. Even in her pretend, she has to remind him she still loves him and that makes him smile a bit.

[natsukicookies]

Turquoise Twinkle: A Day in the World of Soccer and Surprises

Chapter 10 || love unlock

The next day you somehow manga to get the school and into your class, thanks to the address in your notebook.

You took your seat and watched as all the kids played around or talked. It felt like you didn't belong here.. it was true you weren't from here.

But it still hurt. You wanted to go home, to your real home. You sighed and put your head on your desk as a way to stop yourself from crying.

"HI! Y/n chan!" Someone greeted you with a loud and cheerful voice as they took their seat beside you.

You looked up and was surprised to see the person in front of you. "what are you doing here... yumiko?" You asked confused as you saw her tilted her head sideways also confused "what do you mean?" She asked "I'm always with you right." She smiled but something about her smile was off...

Yumiko's cheerful demeanor seemed almost too perfect, her wide smile stretching a bit too far, and her laughter ringing a tad too high-pitched. As she playfully hit your head, you couldn't shake the eerie feeling that something was amiss.

"But didn't I transfer schools...?" you muttered, confusion still clouding your thoughts.

"Silly, I did too!" Yumiko chirped, but her laughter carried an unsettling undertone, leaving you with an unsettling sensation in the pit of your stomach.

You nodded in response to Yumiko's statement but chose to focus your attention on the front of the classroom, as if the blackboard held all the answers to this strange situation. Soon after, a peculiar change began to unfold.

It was as though the presence of Yumiko had cast a magical spell over your desk. Students who had previously treated you as if you were invisible started approaching, one by one. They struck up conversations, shared laughs, and included you in their discussions. It was a stark contrast to the few minutes ago when you felt like a ghost in the classroom.

This sudden shift in social dynamics left you with an unsettling and eerie feeling. It was as if the entire class had been waiting for Yumiko's arrival to acknowledge your existence, and you couldn't help but wonder why.

And so on the whole day at school went by fast and was very weird.

As you walked along the familiar path toward your home, a familiar sight caught your attention. There, on the nearby playground, you spotted Rin and Sae in their school uniforms, energetically playing a game of soccer.

A wry smile crept onto your face as you watched them chase after the ball, their laughter and shouts filling the air. "Why does everyone seem to love soccer so much?" you muttered under your breath, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

The realization dawned on you as you continued to observe the scene. "Oh right, I isekaied into a soccer otome game or manga thingy," you mused aloud, the irony not lost on you. It seemed that, in this world, soccer was a central theme, and you couldn't help but find it amusing, even if it wasn't exactly your cup of tea.

You decided to join Rin and Sae in their soccer game, thinking it might be a fun way to unwind and spend time with them. You approached the makeshift field with a playful grin, ready to kick the ball around and enjoy their company.

However, as fate would have it, the universe had different plans. Just as you were about to join in, Sae took a powerful shot at the ball, and it went flying straight toward your face. The impact was unexpected and caught you off guard, sending you tumbling to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, both Itoshi brothers sprinted toward you, concern etched on their faces. They knelt down beside you, worry in their eyes, and asked in unison, "Are you okay, Y/n?"

You groaned a little, holding your mouth where it hurts the most. You noticed the metallic taste in your mouth, you looked at your hand and noticed the blood and something else.

"Oh" the three of you noticed that one of your baby tooth had fallen into your hand.

Maybe it was you or your 9 year body but seeing the blood and the broken tooth made the Tears streamed down your face uncontrollably, a mix of pain, shock, and the sight of your own baby tooth. To your nine-year-old body, it felt like a significant loss, even though you knew it was just a part of growing up.

Rin, in his usual panic, hovered around, unsure of how to help. However, Sae stepped in with a calm and reassuring presence. He led you to a nearby water fountain and gently encouraged you to rinse your mouth, washing away the blood and calming your racing heart.

As you rinsed your mouth, Sae patted your back comfortingly and assured you, "It's okay, Y/n. It's just a tooth. This happens to everyone when they're growing up." He spoke from experience, having been through similar situations with Rin.

Gradually, the tears subsided, and your breathing returned to normal. You looked at Sae with gratitude.

"Thanks" You said while he wiped your tears away.

Rin came up to you still worried and asked "are you okay? Does it hurt?"

You gave Rin a reassuring smile and nodded. "I'm okay now. It doesn't hurt much anymore,"

Sae, although still concerned about your well-being, couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. "Well, I guess that's one way to lose a tooth," he remarked, finding the silver lining in the unexpected event.

You, on the other hand, managed to smile through the pain and slight embarrassment. "Guess so," you replied, holding the tooth carefully in your hand. "I hope the tooth fairy still visits for soccer-related incidents."

Rin and Sae shared a laugh with you at the mention of the tooth fairy. It was moments like these that made you feel even closer to them. Despite the little mishap, their presence and humor lightened the situation.

This was basically your every day things now. first spending time with yumiko in school and after school spending time with rin and sae and after do some tasks the system gave you.

Homework or study was never a problem since your mind was 17 years old and those problems were 4th grade level.

Hack you would even help sae sometime. Keyword sometime since that would either make the adults suspicious of you or would think your a genuine.. which you unfortunately were not.

That aside right now you were studying with rin and sae.. or at least was they were. You got bored.

Rin seems to have gotten stuck a question it seems, so you took a peek.

'6 × 90' was the problem it was easy for me but for him.. not so sure.

"It would be 540" I answered, Rin's eyes widened in surprise as you quickly provided the answer to the math problem. He couldn't help but smile back at you. "You're really smart, Y/n," he said, genuinely impressed by your quick thinking.

Sae, who had been focused on his own work, glanced over and chuckled. "Looks like you have your own personal tutor here, Rin."

You blushed a bit at the compliment but were happy to help. "I can even solve your one too sae!" I exclaimed, getting over excited.

"I don't think so" sae said "5th grade questions are hard unlike the 4th and 3rd grade" he smirked

Sae's playful challenge only fueled your determination. You leaned in a bit closer, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Oh, Sae, you underestimate my math prowess," you teased.

Rin watched with amusement as the two of you engaged in this friendly banter.

You sat super close to sae to see the work. You noticed him blushing and looking away but played no mind.

'4686

38421

     78

+      5'

As you swiftly calculated the answer to Sae's math problem, you couldn't help but savor the moment. You revealed your solution with a triumphant smile. "The answer is 43,190."

Sae's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting you to solve it so quickly. "Wait, really?" he asked, double-checking your work. After a brief examination, he admit with a pout, "Wow, you're good."

Rin cheered you on, his face lighting up with pride. "Y/n onee-chan, you're amazing!"

You chuckled at their reactions, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "See, Sae, don't underestimate the power of a common man- I mean 4th grader!"

Sae couldn't help but pout as he admitted defeat. "Fine, fine, you got me this time, Y/n. But don't think you can beat me every time"

Rin joined in the playful banter, grinning from ear to ear. "Y/n onee-chan, you're pretty awesome!"

You laughed, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere. "Well, I do my best! Now, what's next on the study agenda, gentlemen?"

With renewed energy and a sense of camaraderie, the three of you continued your study session, turning it into a delightful game of wits and laughter.

This time you were invited to rin ans Sae's soccer game. Going to their school was exciting since their school was far more bigger than yours.

The was game was good, itoshi bros won of course. But what catch your attention was a little boy crying from the losers team.

"Ah hentai protagonist hair is crying so hard" you muttered to yourself.

ᴺᵉʷ ᵗᵃˢᵏ

ᴹᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱᵈ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ

[ᴬᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗ] [ᵈᵉⁿʸ]

Reading the message you sighed. You shouldn't have looked his way.. clicking on accepted, you went towards him while thinking of a way to make him happy.

"Hey there," you began, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "Tough game, huh?"

The boy turned to you, his teary eyes widening in surprise as you approached. "Yeah," he mumbled, sniffling slightly.

"It's okay we have ups and downs in our life all the time" you tried to comfort him as You gently reached out and lifted his chin, using your thumb to wipe away a few of his lingering tears. As you did, you couldn't help but notice something remarkable—his eyes. They were a stunning shade of Turquoise reminding you of ocean.

"Wow," you couldn't help but whisper in awe. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

The boy blinked, taken aback by your unexpected compliment. His cheeks reddened slightly, and he gave a small, hesitant smile. "You think so?"

You nodded earnestly. "Absolutely. Your eyes are like gems. You should be proud of them."

He seemed to brighten up a bit, his confidence growing. "Thanks," he replied, his voice a bit steadier. "I guess I do have pretty cool eyes."

"That's the spirit," you encouraged, giving him a warm smile. "Remember, even when things get tough, you've got something special that makes you stand out."

You couldn't shake the feeling of piercing stares burning into the back of your head as you conversed with the boy. Unbeknownst to you, the Itoshi brothers watched intently, their eyes fixed on you like hawks on prey. The intensity of their gazes was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I can feel the stares of the Itoshis," you gulped inwardly, but you dared not look behind to confirm your suspicion. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, trying to help the crying boy feel better.

As the conversation continued, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped candy. With a friendly smile, you offered it to him. "Here, take it!"

The boy's eyes lit up with surprise and delight as he accepted the candy. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

With that, you left the boy, not knowing the how much of a big impact you did on thus little boy named 'ikki niko.'

Bonus:

"What were you doing with that boy from the another team??" Sae's voice carried a tinge of jealousy as he questioned your interaction with the boy from the opposing team. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't help but feel a bit possessive.

Rin, on the other hand, unleashed a fierce, silent glare in the direction of the little boy, his expression an unspoken warning to anyone who dared to approach you. His protective nature matched Sae's intensity, making it clear that they both held a special place for you in their hearts.

"Well, I was just trying to help," you replied, trying to explain yourself to the Itoshi brothers. The way they were reacting almost made it seem like you had committed a crime by comforting a crying kid.

Sae crossed his arms, still wearing a somewhat annoyed expression. "Helping the enemy, huh?"

Rin, not one to mince words, chimed in, "Y/n onee-chan, you're too kind. But remember, we're the good guys here!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at their possessiveness and sense of rivalry, even in such a trivial situation. "Don't worry, guys. I'm on Team Itoshis all the way."

Sae and Rin exchanged a satisfied glance, their jealousy momentarily appeased by your declaration. It seemed that, even in the midst of an ordinary soccer game, your presence had a way of stirring up emotions in the Itoshi brothers.

As both of the brothers pulled you toward their school, you couldn't help but think, 'I have to be careful with those two. They're starting to look like potential yandere characters...'

You chuckled softly to yourself, finding the situation both amusing and slightly unnerving.

Istg this is becoming more of a rin x reader x sae- 💀 can't help it they are my favorites 😭 don't worry I will try to quickly get on with the blue lock timeline 🐧

[the-book-of-lucien]

thanks to @r3m-ster for the prompt!

——

The night is a symphony. You can hear it, when you stay up late, late enough that you can hear the stars singing to each other, hear the earth humming as it moves through the emptiness which is not emptiness, which is everything.

It was made for those humans who had half that song waiting to be completed inside each cell, who would stay up late to protect the tribe from the dark which they secretly worshipped, the night which made them whole and complete. Alice had been one of those humans.

She had always wished she could drink that night, call the song to her and let it fill her up with its gentle melody. It was only the music that pulled part of her from her chest, the high soprano melodies so opposite to the deep baritones yet made so whole by them, the hundreds of voices working together just for you to feel incomplete, for you to know how your soul drips with need.

For now she laid a beautiful girl’s head to rest on her knee, the body pale and drained, and tried to ignore the taste of the saltwater.

—

Lily. She liked that name. It flowed off the tongue so naturally, full of love and appreciation and trust, the vowels tall and choral and beautiful, the consonants soft and light. It would do well for the night, Rowan tossed off like a threadbare coat. It would do well for the occasion. It would be known.

The coat she wore now was dark and tailored, supplementing the hard lines of her cheekbones and the sharp ebony blades of liner at the corners of her eyes. Ten thousand years have not dulled those blades, still honed enough to cut a man with no less than a look.

And tonight was a night like none other had been but one before.

Lily could already feel Alice there, that festering contamination fought against so harshly. She was always the only one who could, who would fight it.

—

What is your name? No query of less use could leave your lips. You know my name.

No.

Vampir, in your language. The one and only. I’ve been watching you.

I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to go with you. I don’t

Oh, but you do! I feel the need in you. Come with me. Together. We will face the end of days as the only beings who can know it. We will see the darkness and call it friend. Dance with me, Elena, to this night-symphony.

I won’t take others’ lives to sustain my own!

What irony. You already do. See the blood on your hands? The countless livestock who have lost their lives to your consumption?

Do you remember Andreea?

All I ask is that you take my hand. That’s all I desire.

—

And two eyes met again, thousands of years pushing against that force that called them to each other.

“Elena” was the whispered harmony, gathered by the symphony and twisted to the unknowable composer’s whim. Alice’s hand dropped.

“Take that off your neck. I don’t want to see that ever again.”

“I can’t,” Alice murmured through her tears.

“Alice. Is that still the name you use?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you doing this? You knew I had to come.”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Alice.”

“What did I do to you? What did I make you?”

“You did nothing, Alice. I am the way I am of my own volition.”

“Think of the lives I took! The people I destroyed!”

“Alice-“

“Elena. I loved you.”

“Then take that rope off your neck. Come down here. Let me hold you.”

There was a thud, and two voices joined the night-symphony with their tears. Neither spoke for some time.

Finally, a gentle voice said “Why did you leave?”

“I needed time. I was going to come find you, Alice, I swear.”

“You never did.”

“Andreea stayed with me. She taunted me every night. But I tried, Alice. I promise I tried. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

There was another silence. Some time passed.

The morning came. Neither moved. The other’s arms were too comfortable.

They stayed together in that gentle comfort for a long time. Their home had many bookshelves and windows, and a cat. Their bed was soft.

When the end of days came, they saw the darkness together. They called it friend.

[dualcastimpact]

dawntrail impressions pt. ix

In this installment: family revelations and the irony of having a Dellemont d'Or winner as your sous chef.

Spoilers below the cut, as always.

History learned, ibruq hunted, Ja Tiika banana leaves obtained, relevant spices and seasonings and cooking utensils acquired—now it's time for the actual cooking!

Koana: "Then all that remains is to prepare the dish itself. I presume that at least one among us is versed in the culinary arts?"

You fucking presume right, Koana.

Krile: "I can hardly claim profound skill, but I have cooked for myself. You can leave the rest to me."

Krile: "And you, I hope. As I recall, you are an accomplished culinarian."

If by accomplished culinarian you mean resident guest chef at premiere culinary establishment The Bismarck with a waiting list moons' long, three-time winner of the Dellemont d'Or and advocate for innovative travelling rations that are both portable and convenient and yet tasteful, hearty and healthy, then yeah—Raginmar's an accomplished culinarian, all right.

———

Hunmu Rruk: "In taste, texture, and aroma, you have recreated xibruq pibil admirably."

Did you really expect anything less from the plot when Raginmar's involved?

———

Sareel Ja: "The meat was marinated in spice before being steamed in an earthen oven! This is xibruq pibil!"

Hunmu Rruk: "Oh? And what about the Ja Tiika banana leaf?"

This is the fantasy equivalent of pulling FutureCanoe shenanigans in the Masterchef kitchen and then getting mad when Gordon Ramsay says you're a shit chef and you should be ashamed of yourself.

———

Hunmu Rruk: "Your dish lacks an essential ingredient. As you have failed to demonstrate an adequate understanding of xibruq pibil, I must deem your performance unsatisfactory. Your team will not receive keystones."

It's a lot less harsh when you consider xibruq pibil is really just code for "the history behind two of Turali's peoples and the conflicts that drive them until today" but on surface level that's frankly kind of ridiculous. Imagine being disqualified for the presidential race just because you didn't get a recipe right.

———

Krile: "His ambition only grows more intense. That someone could harbor such dark thoughts towards family..."

Does... does anyone remember that Wuk Lamat and Koana are adopted? Like, is it any surprise that the firstborn true-blooded son resents his adopted siblings and possibly sees them as interlopers instead of family?

———

Wuk Lamat: "This is the taste of harmony. Someone who only knows brute force and deception could never appreciate it."

Ixnay on the oasting-bay, Wuk Lamat. And again, I'm beating a dead horse here but she's acting very much like the overconfident and brash shōnen manga protagonist who's all too eager to show off what they've learned and it is not! endearing! I've always been more a shōjo and seinen fan anyhow!

———

Wuk Lamat: "You've got real culinary talent. If you ever tire of adventuring, you can always be my personal chef!"

Raginmar smiles and says "You can't afford me," and he says it so pleasantly and matter-of-factly it rather takes everyone by surprise and leaves them wondering if he's serious or joking.

(He's deadly serious.)

———

Wuk Lamat: "Um...was there any xibruq pibil left? I could really use another helping..."

Oh haha, Wuk Lamat's so immature and unladylike with her shameless request for more food and her big appetite, har dee har har. I don't know, I just don't find this way of establishing (or playing up?) her personality to be very amusing or interesting.

———

Hello? A Father's Grief? What's this expansion's got against fathers, man??

———

Hunmu Rruk: "Speaking of which, I have a query of my own for you, Raginmar."

Oh boy, here we go again.

Hunmu Rruk: "May I request a moment of your company?"

Mmhmm, yeah, sure, it's not as if Raginmar has anything better to do than to be a one-man walking-talking confessional booth for all the conflicted fathers in this expansion.

———

Hunmu Rruk: "As the leader of our community, I am gladdened to see that the Third Promise has surrounded herself with such compassionate and trustworthy companions."

Hunmu Rruk: "Would you tell me of her journey thus far?"

Weird question to ask in private considering you could have just made Wuk Lamat regale you with tales of her adventures—and I'm pretty sure she'd be more than happy to!—but sure.

———

Hunmu Rruk: "...My daughter would be about her age."

Hello??? What's this suddenly about a daughter?

Hunmu Rruk: "Girls are rarely born amongst the Xbr'aal. So when she arrived, the village was elated. Such joy I felt when first I held her...and pain when I found her at the bottom of a cenote."

Hunmu Rruk: "Three years old. An accident, it was said. But I knew better."

Hunmu Rruk: "She had been pushed."

Hello???

Hunmu Rruk: "Though we never caught them, a suspicious figure was seen fleeing towards the Ja Tiika Heartland. Towards Mamook."

Hunmu Rruk: "I was determined not to let them succeed. And so I let the memory of my daughter die in that cenote, and gave her into the care of the one person I knew who could protect her."

Hunmu Rruk: "...Dawnservant Gulool Ja Ja."

HELLO???

Hunmu Rruk: "Though she was born to lead the Xbr'aal, fate had a greater plan for Wuk Lamat."

Hunmu Rruk: "Only the Dawnservant and I know the truth. But I must now take you into my confidence for one reason."

Could these poor fathers please stop taking Raginmar into their confidences? Please! Enough! Do you know how tiring it is playing secret-keeper?! Enough!!

Hunmu Rruk: "If the villain who attempted to murder my daughter was indeed of Mamook, then rancor towards the Xbr'aal still burns."

Hunmu Rruk: "I was caught off-guard once. I will not suffer the same tragedy again."

Hunmu Rruk: "And so I ask you, not as the Dawnservant's elector but as a father, to watch over the Third Promise. Defend her from her enemies that may be lurking in shadow. Will you do this for me?"

Listen, at this point Raginmar's been implored by two different fathers to help look out for their daughter, what's he gonna do? Say no?? When the whole reason he sailed to Eorzea was because of how distraught and worried his own father was when Hyllizirn left home with nary a word??? Perish the thought.

Also this is very much a death flag, Hunmu Rruk, you know that right? I just wanted you to know that—good dads don't survive for very long in JRPGs.

Hunmu Rruk: "Suffice it to say, this conversation must remain between us. Pray breathe not a word of this to anyone."

Again with the secret-keeping!

———

Oh come on! What did I say about the death flag?!

[drinkthemlock]

translation of one of álvares’ 1850 letters to luís->

Under the cut because it is long.

Rio, March 1st 1850

My Luís:

I received a letter of yours written down in Rio Grande [do Sul] just as you’d arrived. You told me about a letter in the mail through another one you’d written to my cousin. I looked there and did not find it.

You will not go to São Paulo with me, then. My two years spent there were a trial[1]: my consolation was hoping (ah! what fickle hope it was, gone so easily!) to live there with you…

Luís, there is a certain something in my heart that tells me that everything might be over between us. Could it be a lie, one of those drops of bitter bile that drench the brain like an insanity? — or an anticipation — grim yet truthful, like the petrel’s first call at the beginning of the storm?

Perhaps it’s all over. My friendship, Luís, may have to yet again live off my past of two years of longing. Longing! It expresses the pain of separation, the desire to see each other again, perhaps the remains of a light of hope for a better dawn… does it not, Luís?

I have not spent this vacation in idleness, on the contrary, it has been spent in reading. In this small period of three months I have written a two-hundred or so page novel; two poems, one in five and another in two cantos; an analysis of Musset’s Jacques Rolla[2]; some quite voluminous literary studies about the simultaneous march of civilization and poetry in Portugal[3]; and a poetic fragment in very antiquated language, harder to understand than Sextilhas do Frei Antão[4], though in a different taste, more in the manner of Chatterton’s Th. Rowley.

Against this agitation of spirit, sometimes I am overcome by an invincible paralysis, those hours that mariners fear, in which stillness befalls the dead sea, and the sails fall along the masts. I have always and always spoken to you with my hand on my heart: if someday I died young, in my fever of ambitious hopes, if — poor poet’s imagination! — the ice of death dripped down my brain, there is still, in some of my letters to you, an entire story of two years, a legend, painful, yes, but true, very true, in its iron torment, like an autopsy of sufferings.

Luís, it is my fate to love so much and have no one love me. — There is the irony in my somber disheartening, in my not believing against others’ believing. They call me cold, they believe that egoism and pride have frozen my… nectar, called soul, from that damned amphora called life!

Yesterday I was at a soirée. Nothing there, as usual, amused me. When the boredom comes from the inside, there is no smiling at balls that can sweeten it. When the sorrow is deep and lonesome, when one’s heart has gone dry, there is no fiery bath from a look that can revive it!

Still at times – and today, in my solitude, that is my venture – when the mind drenches me in the drunkenness of an obsession, when my soul is visited by the dreams of a man that does not sleep, that people call poetry, still I feel my chest reopening to the love of women. It seems that if that beauty of black hair and eyes, ample bosom, on top of which [her hair] floats, untied, with her long and soft fingers, the silk [ribbons] of that robe… if I rested this fever of the head that aches in me there, this burning of a mind that drowns me, I could still have enough life in me to make her swoon in the ecstasy of a spasm, to die there in the frenzy of a dream of kisses… And when, before a blonde’s pale forms, in the limpidity of some eyes, transparent and blue as the sea, I see what there is of purity, what there is of golden sands under those waves’ diaphanous polish, then, as Goethe’s Faust in Margarete’s bed, there are some magnetic waves that’ll revive the dead palpitating of my fibers within me, oh! So I wait still…

But, in general, what still awakens in me, at times, the most tepid pulsating of the blood is the voluptuousness that I catch a glimpse of in women full of charms, those that seem to have been made by God to be like statues at whose feet one may pray, may ask them, like the lascivious Venus, for an hour – one only – of pleasure…

These are dreams— dreams… Luís! It is madness to so overly open the heart’s angel’s wings to these ravishing breezes that, in the afternoon, come whispering of rapture, so impregnated with aromas of kisses! It is madness! And yet, when a man lives only off of them, when all the doors have been closed to the reject, why not go knocking, alone at night, at the palace of the fairy of imaginations?

There is only one thing that could provide me the vigor that dies within me. “Dies within me…” said I; do not think that I am lying. Everyone here finds the morose living and the weight of the distraction that haunt me this year strange. My solitary living, closed off in my room, more often than not reading without reading, writing without seeing what I’m writing, brooding without knowing what about– perhaps some furtive tear has rolled down the face of my Mother… poor Mother! – is it not so, my Luís? Poor (don’t you think) are those that watch their son droop and wither, pale like the sound of that somber music which only he can hear!

I say: there is only one thing that can provide me the vigor that falters within me: a woman whom I loved.

Behold, then, everything— love, poetry. I only didn’t tell you of glory. Nor will I. You would laugh at it and at me, as I laugh as well. Glory! In our land! Oh white, fragrant swans of heaven’s vapors, why descend upon the impure swamp, staining the whitenesses, forfeiting the aromas? To the birds of the clouds,— the sky; to the poets— dreams. Glories of the land? Don’t you remember Dante, Chatterton, Byron? Don’t you remember Werner, poet, and a grand one too, dead of skepticism and desolation under his orgy’s garland? Glories of the land!… the applause of the rabble! Rotten laurels, most often drenched in blood, speckled with the scum of insult and the slime of envy…

Goodbye, my Luís. The beauty of spiritualism is the love between souls, this tune that makes them palpitate in unison even in separation, even when the senses that bind us to matter no longer touch the object which we love. Goodbye. Just as I love you, love me. Do not forget it among your Rio Grande meadows, to the sound of the laughter from rosy lips that unveil pearls of your beautiful countrywomen’s.

Your friend:

–Azevedo

[PS:] I tried rereading my letter to amend any error that might’ve slipped at the march of the quill, but I found it so long I lacked the will to do so. Moreover my handwriting came out so poorly that I can barely understand it. If you cannot understand it as well, chuck this piece of paper into the fire. You will lose little or nothing in doing so. It will be a lost quarter of an hour less.

On the first of April I’ll leave for São Paulo.

[1] Álvares wrote this letter during his summer vacation after his second year at the Faculdade de Direito do Largo de São Francisco, in São Paulo. He met Luís while they both were students at the Colégio Pedro II in Rio de Janeiro, the city in which Álvares was raised since he was a baby (despite having been born in São Paulo). They parted ways when Álvares went to São Paulo in 1848 to study law.

[2] Álvares was a big Musset fan, and you can read (in Portuguese) the analysis he refers to here (1873 edition, pg. 123). Also, an interesting article about suicide in this critical essay here.

[3] Available at the same link as above (1873 edit., pg. 171)

[4] Second volume of poetry by Gonçalves Dias, one of the most famous first-generation Brazilian Romantics, which (like all of Álvares’ works) are in the public domain and can be read here.

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Nepenthe. chap 04

act one : tacenda

THIS IS AN OC INTEGRATION FOR THE WITCHER, IT IS NOT AN X READER FIC.

— boy oh boy!! I'm trying to keep up with writing this so I don't feel pressured to keep publishing chapters in the future, y'know!!

— I hope y'all r enjoying this so far because I am so excited for shit to start to get into the big picture.

tw for : canon typical violence, cursing, blood, gay shit as usual.

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.

"This is the part where they kill us!"

Geralt snarls in response, he shuffles left then right, trying to gain some leverage on his bonds, but finds no avail.

"Who's they?"

The bard asks, and quickly swift blows are stricken, one to the bards jaw, another to Geralts cheekbone, and I feel a foot plant at the crown of my head.

"Shit."

I groan, and I feel blood trickle down my lips, and when the Bard goes to ramble Geralt snarls out a 'Shut up!' Only to be kicked again, the stranger cursing in elder.

When the bard makes a comment about his partial understanding, and when the girl translates, he says something I can't quite understand, but the way it rolls off his tongue was, a little attractive, albeit not the best time to think that way.

"Do you want to die now?"

"As opposed to later?!"

Geralt growls, only for the girl to continue her abuse, and I lull my head lightly as she kicks into my gut.

"You beat bound men, to scared to even look them in the eyes!"

The bard growls, and I try to avert my flickering focus on getting out of the binding, my teeth grit as I taste that irony liquid, it's mixed with spit and lack of breath.

When the girl kneels I can see her features out of the corner of my eye, she's ginder and her hair is pulled high, showing off her elvish features.

"Do you like my golden palace, hmm?"

She hums, holding Geralts chin, convulsing as she's headbutted square in her nose, letting out slim breathes and coughs.

"W-Wait what's wrong with her?"

The bard asks, and the familiar voice of the creature when we were first attacked rings in my ears, i listen carefully as I roll my wrists around the binding, it burns at my skin and is going to leave undeniable bruising, but I persist.

"Oh and who's this?"

The bard asks, and the beast continues.

"He's Filavandrel, King of the elves."

My hands freeze, and I feel myself lean onto Geralt as some form of support, and he lets me before speaking up.

"You were stealing for them."

He says to the Sylvan, and the beast replies, saying he pitied the elves, and when the bard tries to interject, arguing that the elves gave up their home, the unfamiliar voice I can only assume is Filavandrel speaks.

"Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? to starve? to have a Sylvan steal for them?"

He asks, before the aforementioned Sylvan scolds the girl, who responds.

"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?"

"—One human."

Geralt says, before adding on that they can release the bard, and the king goes on about how humans will find out, amongst other things, and kneels in front of Geralt.

As they speak, I weave my hands through the binding, and act as though I have them still bound, and lightly tap Geralts hands before I slowly begin to work on his, and he keeps up the conversation, keeping the king oblivious.

When the king goes to draw his blade, the Sylvan grasps his wrist.

"The witcher could've killed me, but he didn't.. he's different, they both are.. like us."

The Sylvan pleads, before being nudged aside, and I can see Filavandrel contemplate his choices, and I get Geralts hands untied to the best of my abilities.

"If you must kill me, I am ready."

Geralt says, and I can feel my body rush with adrenaline, ready to fight our way out of anything.

"..but the sylvans right, don't call me human."

Geralt says, and I add on to his sentence.

"Us."

I say firmly, I can see Filavandrels gaze flicker over the evident scar tissue and dark green eye that stares him down, almost perturbed by the sunken loss of the empty socket where my left eye should've been.

And when he stands, he goes between Geralt and Jaskier, holding his blade just above their heads, before he kneels again, and cuts away the binding from the Bards wrists.

"I must say, getting out of that rope must've taken inhumane determination."

He hums, and I pull my hands in front of me, sliding around to face him, he smiles almost fondly and shakes his head, and i realize what's happening.

"Considering how it was tied, yes."

I say snidely, and he lets out a soft chuckle and pulls away the rope, the bard shoots up and flips around like he'd never see the light of day again, and Geralt slowly rises from his position, rubbing his wrists.

In gratitude, Geralt gives the hefty pouch of coin from the young man in the tavern to Filavandrel, who reluctantly accepts it, still humble even in a time of need.

In return of the remains of his old lute, Filavandrel passes his off to the bard, who seems giddy at the fine made instrument.

The king sees the three of us off, before the girl from before rushes up, she briefly apologizes for her violence.

"You'll need it to survive, I'm not complaining."

I say, and I see her curtly nod as she runs back off into the mountains, and I briefly find myself wondering what'll become of her.

We find our horses, who are still tied to the same tree, and they shiver in delight as their deep eyes land on us.

"I cant wait to be out of this fucking heat."

I hiss, mounting my horse and whispering 'Good boy, Emir.' And trot onto the main path, this time beside Geralt.

"Credit where credit is due, that whole reverse psychology thing you did on them was brilliant."

Says the bard, before he imitates Geralt in a gruff voice, which, sounds pretty accurate if I do say so myself.

"They just let us go and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filavandrel's lute not gift enough for you?"

Jaskier eyes his new instrument, and picks up his pace with a bit of energy, a smile you could only describe on a fool plastered on his face.

"Yeah she is a bit sexy isn't she?"

"Mhm."

I say, it's half minded but I can agree that the piece is well crafted, he's lucky to have it.

"This is where we part ways for good, Bard."

Geralt says, and the bard is quick to snap back, swinging his new lute around and begins to strum away, I can't help but enjoy the song he comes up with, he's not a half bad bard.

"That's not how it happened, where's your newfound respect?"

Geralt interrupts, and I look over as Jaskier contemplates his answer.

"Respect doesn't make history."

He comments, before he continues playing as he walks, and this time I ride past Geralt to follow, listening to him sing in silence, and at the end I give him a small applause.

"You're not as shit as I thought you to be, Bard."

"It's Jaskier."

He says, though he grins in my direction, and I purse my lips for a second, before I reply.

"Kael."

— HEHEHEEE..... YAY!!! the second episode DONE!! I hope y'all enjoyed what I did to fit Kael in here </3

[chromes-corner]

Hello I heard you like thirsty people! Well I’ve been thinking

Affogato’s personality is definitely very interesting. I like his charisma, his manipulative tendencies, his whole thing he’s got going on. But. In a way that makes me want to bring him to his knees and make him call me god if you know what I mean. So, like, sub affogato. Like the biggest bottom on Earthbread with a hard top parter. Total domination. physical and verbal worship from him. It’s nothing if not ironic and irony is ✨juicy✨. Would you mind doing nsfw headcanons of this concept please?

Oh anon you are DIABOLICAL for this one 😈😈😈 I too want this man licking my boots god DAMN this is top tier taste

—-

(NSFW)

Affogato/Reader

Content Warnings: NSFW, questionable relationship dynamics, knife mentions

Notes: NSFW

A/N: this one’s a bit shorter cause like personally I can’t see affo as anything but a hard top but this was a very interesting deviation to write

Affogato is used to serving on his knees in more ways than one.

He’s not gonna obey your every order from the get-go — you gotta break him like he’s a wild horse.

He may seem like a fighter, but Affogato is all talk and no action (he couldn’t rid himself of the King until the followers of Dark Enchantress showed up and did it for him, after all). His constantly running mouth isn’t anything some rope and a sharp command to “shut up and put that tongue to good use” can’t fix.

Another good way to shut him up is to stick your fingers in his mouth. He’ll reflexively suck on them.

It frightens him a little how easy he slips into subservience around you — and how much it excites him.

Man can stage a whole coup but the second you give him a narrow glance and a knowing downward tilt of your head, he’s following your every command.

Your mere presence gets his heart racing and his blood rushing below the belt.

Yank his head back by his hair and trace your fingertips along his carotid arteries. Whisper against the delicate skin of his neck what you’ll do to him. Make him feel his own pulse pounding in (both of) his head(s).

^^Seriously, just telling him the filthy details that he’s about to experience is enough to get him off. Every dirty word makes him involuntarily suck in a breath.

Affogato does not beg — or, so he claims. You can coax it out of him with enough edging. Make him wait to finish for long enough, and he’ll pray and barter for release like you’re an indecisive god.

Handjobs and blowjobs are one thing, but taking him from behind and pulling his hair really gets him squealing.

Overstimulating him drives him up the wall. If you keep going after he’s already finished, he’ll scream his throat raw.

Spanking. Need I say more.

Affogato is a suck-up and a yes man. He will do whatever it is you want, no questions asked, as long as it pleases you. You say jump, he doesn’t even ask “how high?” because he already knows how you like it.

Ironically, he enjoys a good master/servant roleplay. He plays the part of servant so much already that sometimes he just needs to blow off some steam.

A little bit of knife play never hurt anyone — that badly, at least. It’s all about the exhilaration of risk for Affogato. He’ll shudder if you run an edge over his stomach and hips.

Affogato is just 100% drunk on you and his every thought of you. You completely consume his every waking moment. Plans of political takeovers fade into the background as pleasing you becomes his focus more and more.

Just fuck his shit up tbh

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere RE8: TRP Part 4

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 5 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Uhh... hello?"

You looked at the woman standing in the stairs. She was wearing a dark veil that matched the rest of her outfit- oh shit, that's a funeral outfit.

I really did pick a bad time to come here, didn't I? She's in mourning, she sees an intruder, and her day went from bad to worst. Yep, she's gonna kill me.

You took one look at the woman and then at all the possible exits: the doors- no, they'd be too heavy to move and what if they're locked? The window- but I'd have to jump out and just because it looks cool in movies to jump through glass, doesn't mean it'll work, Y/n.

So, the only option was to eliminate the threat. Or maybe... defuse it.

"This is your doll, right?" You asked, pointing at the doll, judging by the lace designs on both of their dresses. The woman didn't reply. "It looks like its been... used a lot. To be honest, she's very different than most dolls I've seen, definitely a lot more spookier." You nervously giggled, hoping she didn't mind. "But... she looks like she's been loved. A lot. Despite being broken from a lot of places, someone still took their time to fix her." You smiled sadly, remembering your own doll that Mia had ripped. "Wish I had someone like that. To sew up the wounds and fix them."You mumbled, not really sure if you were talking about your doll or yourself.

"Your doll, she's- she's very pretty. My sister would've liked her." You began. "Which is why I'm here. My family, we were in an accident- I know it was wrong of me to come here without permission, but I need to find my sister, Rose and my father, Ethan." You took a step closer. "They both of have blonde hair. Rose, my sister, she's just 6 months old. She was dressed in a baby pink onesie, bundled up in a blanket. My father, Ethan, he's about this tall and has big blue eyes. I think he was wearing a jacket, with blue denim jeans. H-have you seen them?" You asked, eyes full of hope and voice laced with eagerness.

Please, please let her have seen them. God, please.

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't reply, but she did turn her head towards the left window. You didn't know whether she was telling you to get out of her house or signalling that they are out there, but you knew you had to leave.

Nodding, you slowly walked towards the window, your heart beating faster as you prayed that this wasn't some sort of trap, hoping she wouldn't attack you from behind because that would be like... really shitty.

But you left the house unharmed, and without looking back at the window because you didn't want to jinx it, you walked towards the forrest once again, thankful that the sun had finally came out.

Where are you guys?

You had been walking for a couple of hours now, the sun had been a bit warmer today, which was good since you hated the snow that surrounded you now. You looked at the map, tracing the path to your new destination. The Salvatore reservoir. It seemed like it would take you a day's journey to get there, and you sure as hell weren't seeing any lake in sight.

God, when will this nightmare end?

You decided to sit on a stone and take some much needed rest. Your feet ached from all the walking, and your calves were cramping. You rolled your head, popping it from the side, before taking off the rifle that had been weighing down, stretching out your arms. Digging through the little back pack you bought from Duke, you pulled out a thermos of coffee and twinkie. You don't know how or where he got it, but Duke had filled your bag with a couple of snacks; saying its for his loyal customer.

So, here you sat, in the middle of the snowy woods, eating a twinkie and drinking a lukewarm coffee. Both didn't taste good, but they're gonna keep you alive so, no complaining.

After drinking the coffee, you rested your head against a tree, recalling last nights events as you waited for the caffeine to kick in.

You tried to make sense of what happened when you got... locked in the basement. You thought you had forgotten about her, Angel. Guess not.

Wait- didn't that lady lock me in the basement? Maybe, she didn't look very hostile, her creepy doll looked scarier than she did.

You laughed at the irony. You always made fun of the horror movies where the family would become so attached to the most horrifying doll, and you'd scream at their stupidity, And yet here you were, falling for the cliche as you found comfort in that creepy doll.

Man, I'm really losing it here.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you tried to come up with the next plan. But the warm coffee had lulled you right to sleep, which was dangerous but you were too tired to care.

Just for a couple of minutes...

You woke up to the sound of growling and heavy steps. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you knew you had definitely slept for far longer than a few minutes. But that was not of concern at the moment. No, it was the source of the growling that had woken you up.

Just about 40 feet away from you were lycans. Plural. Not one, not two, but 5 lycans, and one of them was a really big one.

You held your breath as you watched them wander around; they hadn't spotted you yet, and if you stayed quiet, you hoped they would just go away.

Stilling yourself as much as you could, you watched them with wide eyes. One of them started to walk in your direction, it wasn't looking at you, which meant that it hadn't seen you, but he would if he kept on walking this way.

God, I know we haven't been on good terms, but like c'mon, you gotta give me a break. Please, I love you? Come on, you know this is not how I want to go.

You sent a silent prayer, and perhaps it worked, since the lycan suddenly turned the other way, joining its pack as they started walking deeper into the woods.

Slowly, you began to gather up your things, silently shoving them in your bag, one eye on the lycans and the other one making sure that you don't accidentally drop something that'd cause noise.

Fortunately, you didn't. You swung the bag over your shoulder, and took a step forward, careful not to step on any twigs.

Maybe God did love me. All that time in church-

THWACK!

You jumped back as a huge sheet of snow fell from the trees in front of you. You whipped your head towards the monsters and they all had stopped dead in their tracks. Slowly, one of them turned and if they hadn't heard the snow fall, they'd definitely heard the way your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Then, it growled.

Motherfucker.

You pulled out your gun just as the two of them began running your way. With a quick jump to the side, you dodged them and shot them two times each. Hearing your gun fire, the other two began running your way too, while the larger one stayed behind as it watched. This time, as you shot one of them, the other managed to kick you in the chest hard, throwing you against the rock. Luckily, you didn't hit your head, as you rolled and shot it dead.

Spitting out the blood, you looked back at the last lycan who had already started running your way. You began loading up your gun with trembling hands, but just as you aimed, the lycan took a giant leap and knocked the gun out of your hand.

Fuck.

The giant grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up high before throwing you across the ground. You wheezed, scrambling up to your feet as you began running away from it, its heavy steps following you. It roared angrily behind you, and that only made you ignore the burning pain in your chest as you ran faster.

But of course, God had decided to make you live a cliche horror movie, because you tripped over a fucking branch, making you fall on your stomach. You flipped over instantly, and saw your nightmare come true as the lycan jumped on you.

On pure reflex, you punched it square in the face, which you doubted hurt it more than it hurt you, if anything, the monster was momentarily perplexed, but that was enough for you to slip from under it.

But you were only able to take a few steps away when it suddenly grabbed you by your neck and lifted you up again, snarling as it began opening its mouth, revealing its razor-sharp teeth at you.

God, if you're hearing this, I'm converting to atheism because I did not need this today.

Looking at the horrifying lycan, you prayed one last time before you were eaten by it. Surprisingly, your life did not flash before your eyes, which you were kinda grateful for because you did not need to relive that before your death.

But that moment didn't came. No, what came were familiar moans of pain, and then the sound of a drill, followed by blood splattering on your face as the lycan was sliced vertically from the head to the toe by the aforementioned drill.

The lycan fell to the ground, revealing the pair of soldats that killed them and behind them a smirking Heisenberg, who rested against a tree, tipping his hat at you.

You were far too shocked to say anything, and after a few seconds, the man walked over to you, blocking the view of his monstrous creations just mutilating the lycans.

"So... that was a bit traumatising." He started, chuckling at your stunned face. "You okay, kid?"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-

"Yeah." You took his hand, and he helped you up. You groaned at the pain, touching the tender side around the chest where the lycan had hit you. Yeah, you probably broke a rib.

Heisenberg helped you sit down on a tree stump. "Hmm, that bastard kicked you hard didn't it." Wait- "But that was a phenomenal punch you threw at it. Nearly made me burst out laughing."

"You were watching? Why the fuck didn't you come in before!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you could really handle yourself- which you were pretty good at, but then you lost your gun and it was kinda an unfair match from there on." He pulled out some pills from his coat. "i was just passing by when I saw those lycans moving away. Thats when I pushed the tree which made snow sheet fall and you know the rest from there on."

Your eyes went wide. "You did that on purpose? What the shit, Heisenberg-?! Fuck." You doubled over in pain, clutching your ribs, heaving.

"Shh, stay still, kid. Here, take these. They'll help with the pain." You eyed the bottle before popping two in your mouth. Hey, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have saved me from the lycan. "I just wanted to see if you were worth the trouble, and as it turns out, you are."

"You didn't have to almost kill me to see that. And now I've lost my gun. And I don't have any money to buy a new one. I doubt Duke gives freebies." You huffed out.

Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "God, you sure do whine a lot. Here-" He dropped a tiny pouch in your lap. "There's some coins in there. That should be enough to buy you a new gun. And for fucks sake, get a gun with more rounds! You don't have time to be loading a gun mid battle." He huffed. "So, where are you going now?"

You rolled your head from side to side. "Well, I went to the Beneviento house. Didn't find Ethan or Rose there. Now, I'm going to the lake."

"The lake? Huh, well if you survived Donna, then Moreau should be a piece of cake. You got the map? Let me show you the short cut, it's not far from here." You gave him the map and he showed you the directions.

"Where are you going then?"

"Mother Miranda called. Don't worry, I'll keep our meeting a secret." He then nodded at you. "Alright, I'm off now."

"Wait!" Your voice stopped him. "I don't know when I'll see Duke again. And I don't have gun, so what if another pack of lycans come?"

Heisenberg slumped his shoulders as he let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. I gotta do everything by myself." He dog whistled and one of the soldats stopped maiming the lycan and ran to Heisenberg. "From now on, you're gonna listen to her."The soldat looked at you and nodded. "If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she tells you to die, you die. Follow her around and keep her safe." The soldat nodded. Then Heisenberg turned to you. "He's already dead, so don't worry about throwing him in danger. Oh and also, just take him into the sun every once in a while so that his engine can recharge. You'll know when he needs the sun."

You were baffled. "Wait, Heisenberg- how the- what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Figure it out, kid. Think of him as a guard dog."

You looked at the soldat then at Heisenberg's retreating form, then back at the soldat.

"So..." The soldat stared at you. "You got a name?"

"Handsome." You nodded to yourself as you trudged, using the soldat's arm to support yourself. "That's what I'm gonna call you. Handsome. What do you think?"

The soldat was wearing a metal contraption over its eyes, so you couldn't really tell what it was feeling.

"Well, you don't seem to have any complaints, so from now on, you'll respond to the name "Handsome". Do you understand?"

The soldat nodded.

You laughed. God, the pain meds were either making me stupid or everything else funnier.

You looked at the map again. Just a couple of more minutes and then a right turn. And then you should see the lake- god, this map was confusing as hell.

"So..." you wondered what you should ask the cyborg. Oh right. "You seen Ethan? Blonde man, crazy big eyes. Or a baby, Rose?" The man shook his head no.

Sigh. What else could I ask him? What about how did he die? No, what if that's triggering? I can't handle a Terminator right now. And I don't think I should ask him about his past or anything that'll cause him to have a existential crisis. Ah! I've got it!

"Hey, how do you see?"

The soldat looks down at you for a few seconds then points at his metal contraption.

Wait- is that sarcasm?

You scoff. "Of course, you see with your eyes! I meant, with the whole metal thingy covering them, how do you- oh, there's this vision specs in them."

You smiled. "Hey, you're kinda like Cyclops, yknow-" you were cut off as Handsome suddenly pushed you to the ground, turning on his drill.

"Wait, shit- you don't have to be Cyclops! We can talk this out-" but Handsome was focusing on something else, and that's when you saw it. Two lycans.

Handsome ran and easily maimed them to pieces, I mean, you had to look away from the horrific scene midway.

The soldat returned five minutes later, covered in blood. He extended his hand and you reluctantly took it, letting him support you as you began walking again, your heart still beating like crazy.

But you calmed down when you finally reached the lake, the setting sun gave serene feel to the entire reservoir. You inhaled deeply before looking at Handsome. "Lets go down there." You pointed at the lake.

You were both sitting at the wooden broadwalk, your legs hanging off the ledge. You looked at the water, it wasn't crystal clear, but you could see some fishes swimming around, so at least it wasn't dangerous to life. You looked at Handsome, then at his drill and you realised he was still covered in blood. "Lets get you cleaned up, hm?" You said, pulling out a rag from your bag and dipping it in the cold water below. You began with cleaning up his drill, then dipping the rag back in cold water and cleaning his chest and his other arm.

"Good job back there, Handsome."You smiled as Handsome nodded. "Heisenberg was right, you are kinda like a dog. Hmm, I wonder if..." You tested your theory as you petted him on the head. "Good job, Handsome!" But the soldat only tilted its head in confusion.

"Hmm, perhaps not." You cupped the cold water in your hands and washed your own face, You looked at your reflection in the water. "You wanna go for a swim? I don't mind." Handsome shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of swimming either."

Handsome stared at you. You scoffed. "Oh so you pretend you don't understand what I say, but you want to hear the story? Fine, but I'm only telling you because it might be important later."

You both stared at the water as you began your story. "Well, when I was 15, I had snuck out of the house to go to a party. It was at this rich girl's house and I knew she didn't like me, but I was surprised when she had invited me to her place. Yes, a red flag I should've seen from miles ago, but I was young and dumb and desperate to climb the highschool social hierarchy." You chuckled. "Anyways, long story short, one of the guys there pushed me into the pool because I don't know if they thought it was funny to see me drown? By some luck, I managed to grab onto the pool ledge and pull myself up. I immediately left the party, embarrassed and cold and on the verge of breaking down. Then on the way back home, there was this car following me and then some weirdo catcalled me and tried to get me in his car. Now, scared for my life because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, I ran all the way home, praying that he leaves me alone. I think he stopped when he saw a Range Rover following him, but I don't know. I just rushed back home." You sighed. "You know what happened next? I bursted through the front door, slamming it shut and I turn around to see my dad in the living room, looking surprised to see me. He stood up and looked me up and down and then said, "Y/n? You're drenched completely. And you're messing up the floor. You know what? Mia's in the bathroom right now, why don't you go upstairs and I'll clean up here. You know how she gets when there's water on the wood." And I was just so shocked, that I didn't say anything and went back upstairs. Once I was in the shower, that's when I broke down crying. I almost drowned, almost got kidnapped and my father was worried about me messing up the wooden floor? Hell, he didn't even ask me why I was coming home at midnight." Your tears fell into the lake, making small ripples. You chuckled, "God, I always wondered how tired he must've been from work that day to ignore all these visible signs of distress. I always hated his job, you know? They made him work way too much." You looked at Handsome who was looking at the lake. "Anywho, now you know I can't swim so, save me if I fall into this lake, okay?" He nodded.

You guys sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a question popped up in your mind. "Handsome?" He turned his head towards you, only to see a mischievous smile on your face. "Are you seeing someone?" The man turned his back to the lake, making you laugh. "Ahh, so you like someone. Tell me, is it someone from the village?" The man further turned his head away from you in embarrassment. "Oh come on, tell me! Is it a girl?" He nodded reluctantly, making you punch his arm. "You dog! Does she know?" Handsome shook his head, making you smile. "Tell you what? As a payback for saving me back there, I'll help you get her. I'll be your wingman, Handsome, hm?" He nodded a bit enthusiastically.

"We all deserve good things, Handsome. No matter how we look, or what we are, these things don't really define one's self worth. Its our intentions, you know?" Handsome didn't know, but he nodded anyways.

"Good. Now, lets go check out this place. Keep an eye out for Ethan and Rose, okay?" You told him, not knowing someone was already watching the two of you.

So... thought?

What did you guys think about Handsome? I'm gonna post a pic of him soon if you guys want.

Part 5 is here.

[skaikruswan]

OMG I LOVE YOUR FICS!!! The Meowpheus ones are my favorites!!!

Anyhoo, I would like to request a slightly angsty Morpheus x reader fic. The reader becomes gravely ill after Desire slipped something in their tea, so everyone in The Dreaming begins to look for a cure. Meanwhile, Morpheus stays by his lovers side and remembers all their firsts (I like to imagine Morpheus being with a hothead so maybe their first kiss is after a heated argument). And at the end, once they are cured, Morpheus asks Death to grant his lover immortality.

A poison without a cure

WC: 2k Ao3

Relationship: Morpheus x reader

Notes: multiple POV, worried Morpheus, angst with a happy ending

Dear anon, this prompt was super intriguing, and I hope I did it justice! Sorry for the long wait.

If you liked this story, i have written others.

“Next time, I’ll draw blood.” Desire of the Endless has not forgotten their promise to Dream. The King of Dreams and Nightmares, unfortunately, has prevailed, seeing right through the scheme. He’s still as aloof and arrogant as ever. Oh, how they long to bring Dream to his knees. 

Fortune seems to favor Desire, and Cupid seems to handle him the perfect weapon. His dear sibling has managed to lose his heart to a human, a perfect target. Their beloved twin, Despair, had decided not to participate. 

“While Dream’s despair would taste divine, it wouldn’t justify his limitless wrath,” Despair decided, leaving Desire to their own devices. No matter. They shall enjoy their sole triumph.

Desire cackles in their chamber. Love is the purest and most destructive form of desire. It will be the perfect arrow to pierce Dream’s heart. 

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

Mortals are so easy to manipulate, and you were no challenge. Strolling through the crowded supermarket, Desire simply dropped the box of tea bags into your shopping basket.

The tea, called sweet Dreams, a bouquet of lavender and chamomile, promised a soothing rest. Irony at its finest. 

Now all Desire has to is wait. 

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

You don’t consider yourself to be an overly sporty person, but you still like to work out here and then. Besides, one can always try a new form of exercise. Sometimes even 5 minutes count. 

The pain comes out of nowhere. You’re on your way home when a hand seems to squeeze your lungs, erasing every air you have inside your body. 

You gasp before taking a deep breath, almost keeling over, resting your shaky hands on your knees. 

Your breaths become shallow and rapid, and it only improves a little. You know that there are some crazy diseases, but what the hell could make your lungs suddenly fail like that?

You’re almost home. You can make it. You don’t need to call an ambulance, at least not yet. This is your body, and you are still the captain of this ship. You won’t go down. 

You take a step forward and it feels as if you’re stepping on ice. Your lungs still feel on fire, but you take a breath and feel air reach you once more. 

You can do this. You will get home, go to bed, and maybe ask Morpheus for an extra good rest; the perks of having Dream of the Endless as your boyfriend. 

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

You find yourself inside the Dreaming, and yet the pressure on your lungs remains. It is not as intense as in real life, but enough to make your stomach churn with worry. 

Ugh; you’re having a stomachache in your dreams! Maybe your subconsciousness is so busy processing this weird pain that it decides to continue so in your sleep, fully replicating it. 

Fiddlers’ Green is one of your favorite spots, and the sweet and clear air feels like a balm for your lungs. 

You gently lie down on the soft grass and take deep breaths. Your eyes closed, you hear rather than see Morpheus approach, and you almost feel the blades of grass next to you bend and tickle your skin as he sits down next to you. 

“My love.” Morpheus’ voice always makes you tingle inside. You could spend dreams simply listening to you. He could read the phone book to you, and you would still listen. 

“My lord.” When you first met him, Morpheus had hated being called like that, but in the end, he accepted it as a term of endearment. 

You open your eyes and see a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you, affection twinkling like stars in the blue sky of his eyes. 

“Do you have any wish for this dream?” Morpheus asks, and usually you would love to take a chance and explore the limits of the Dreaming with Morpheus, to do something that gets your blood pumping, but in hindsight, you should take it easy today. 

“I am sorry, but I am only running on 90 percent right now,” you tease. You don’t want to worry Morpheus. You’ll be fine tomorrow.  “Let’s just stay here and relax.” 

“As you wish.” 

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

His love is dying. Morpheus is no stranger to death. Humans are mortal, finite, and even the brightest of them burn up in the end. His sister will guide them to the Sunless Lands. But it is not your time yet. 

Morpheus had his suspicions when you chose a calm rest instead of a thrill. You live life to the fullest, and your dreams are no exception. You are a whirlwind of energy and joy, but now the fire inside of you is extinguishing. 

No mortal is able to give you a proper diagnose, much less a cure. Doctors speak of multiple organ failure, of confusing and contradicting test results. Nobody can explain why your body inevitably shuts down. 

Every day you wake up is a miracle, and every night you return to the Dreaming is a gift. You’re exhausted even inside the Dreaming, the illness trespassing into his realm. This had been the first indication that you’ve caught no normal disease, but something unhuman and supernatural. 

You made an inviting target for every entity or deity who may want to cause him harm, but Morpheus had regained his strength and thought that even his most greedy and power-hungry enemies would see the futility of incensing him, and that they would refrain from stooping so low and target a human when they wanted to hurt him. Whoever caused you this harm will beg for mercy once Morpheus has caught him. An eternity of nightmares and pain awaits them. 

Morpheus reaches down to let his fingers caress the soft lines of your face, watching as your chest rises and falls with every labored breath. You’re unnaturally pale and your features are sharper than before.

You’re resting inside his chambers, and he welcomes the knock on his door. Before him stands Lucienne, holding several files, written in her impeccable handwriting, in her hands. 

“My lord, I have continued my research, and I think I have managed to narrow down the source of the disease,” Lucienne announces, a flash of pride in her dark eyes, and Morpheus reaches for her notes. 

“I will read them. Thank you, Lucienne.” Morpheus inclines his head, letting the librarian know how much he values her efforts. 

“You may continue and use any resources as you see fit.” Every dream and nightmare not needed in the dreams of the humans are participating in the search for your cure. Matthew is keeping an eye on you in the waking world, informing him of every change in behavior. Fiddler’s Green is focusing on healing plants, which are then used by Cain and Abel to produce remedies. Abel even suggested to let Cain poison him to see if he would develop the same symptoms than you did. 

Morpheus feels a sharp ache in his chest as he looks at your resting form. His spitfire, burning high and not afraid to confront him. He remembers their first kiss. Despite several warnings, you had not backed down, had stood your ground while in an argument with him. The topic seemed so irrelevant right now. Your eyes had shone with righteous fury, your fists clenched as you snarled your reasons at him. 

It had been in the heat of the moment that he felt your lips press against his, stealing his ire, his breath, and a chuckle as he seemed to melt under your affectionate touch.

“I think we settled the argument,” you had cheekily replied afterwards, your thumb stroking his jaw. This wouldn’t be the first time you decided to enrage and engage him, fueling his infuriation with your sharp tongue and fiery heart. 

“Come back to me, my love.”

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

You’re close to death. Life barely clings to you, and you feel it peel off every day. Seeing Morpheus fall into despair, rage, and hopelessness hurt more than the agony of your body betraying you. 

You’re so exhausted that it has become hard to distinguish the waking world from the Dreaming. All you know is that Morpheus is kneeling next to you, an almost feverish expression on his face. 

“My love, you must drink this,” he urges, his hand gently holding the back of your neck as he carefully drips a liquid into your mouth. 

At first, nothing happens, before your world and your body are torn asunder. 

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

Days, weeks, months; everything blends together while you push yourself away from the brink of breath. Recovery is a slow process, and Morpheus is beside you. 

When you finally manage to run again, you launch yourself into his arms, giggling as he wraps his arms around you and spins you around like in a fairy tale. 

“Never again,” Morpheus whispers into the crook of your neck, holding you close, and you can’t help but raise your shoulders in defense. “Never again do I want to feel the agony of losing you.” 

You wish you could comfort him, but the words remain at the tip of your tongue. You’re human, and he’s endless. He will live on, while you won’t. 

Instead, you hold on and don’t let go. 

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

Death is waiting for him, sitting on a bench, humming a sweet tune as she observes the humans around her. 

“My sister,” Morpheus greets her, sitting down next to her. This is no ordinary visit, and they both know it. 

“My brother,” Death replies, a knowing smirk on her lips. For a moment, sorrow flickers in her eyes, and Morpheus follows her line of sight to a young boy, who’s been stung by a bee, falling to the ground under the cries and of his family. 

Feathers ruffle and Morpheus waits. How close had his sister been to his love? Would she have forewarned him? 

Death returns and Morpheus clears his throat. This is no simple request but the yearning of his heart, his soul laid bare in front of his favorite sibling. 

“Once, you’ve granted immortality freely, giving it to the man who would become a dear friend to me.” Hob had become a constant in his endless life, and Morpheus can admit that he hadn’t always been the most agreeable companion. 

“I want to ask you to grant immortality to the person I want to love and cherish forever,” Morpheus says, refusing to meet Death’s gaze. He can’t even fathom what he would do if his sister denied his request. 

A soft hand covers his and Death squeezes once, capturing his attention. 

“Little brother, I cannot make this choice, and neither can you. I can offer the same gamble, no more and no less,” Death explains, and Morpheus presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

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

“I’ll never die as long as I want to stay alive?” you say, head tilted in confusion as you look at the beautiful dark-skinned woman next to Morpheus – his sister, Death. A shiver creeps down your spine while you wonder how close you had been to actually meeting her. 

“Yes. You must wish to never die. You won’t age, but you will remain human, experience hunger and thirst and require sleep,” Death explains, her voice just as enchanting as her brother’s, but holding a warmer note. Morpheus had brought her to your home, and he had remained silent for most of her conversation. 

“Becoming more or less an immortal in the 21st century won’t be easy, but the things you do for love,” you let out a dramatic sigh before wrapping your arms around Morpheus’ neck, pulling his head down as you give him a deep, passionate kiss. 

“Never change, spitfire,” Morpheus says as you release his lips to take a breath, before pressing his forehead against yours. 

You have eternity with Morpheus. What else could you desire? 

[getouswh0re]

pairing: okkotsu yuta x reader

genre: yandere, slight Stockholm syndrome & gaslighting , fluff, unhealthy relationships

synopsis: you wanted to escape from yuta’s suffocating grasp so badly, yet execution turned out to be difficult when the chance is waiting around the corner.

****************************************************

You despised Okkotsu Yuta to the core, and if you could list out all of the reasons, there was no way you couldn’t go on for ages.

His presence was smothering as ever, constantly looming like a vulture hunting its prey and doing everything in your stead, not to mention that the vexation seethed over the months as you were trapped with him. Yuta constantly denied you of your capabilities, claiming that being the sweet and loving boyfriend that he was — he would take care of your needs without needing you to break a sweat. After all, what kind of partner would he be, if he couldn’t take care of the love of his life?

And that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Subtly coaxing you into thinking how you were nothing without him, your mindset unknowingly morphed to his delight — making you latch onto the raven at all times as if he was your sole salvation, progressing perfectly as how he’d planned. You loathed him, but your heart betrayed you every now and then when the incessant fluttering in your chest sent heat rising to your cheeks every time Yuta drowned you in his endless acts of affection.

You hated him for everything; for ruining your life, for taking away your freedom and loved ones without shedding a tear. And if you could, you would do anything, however impossible, to escape from the infatuated sorcerer for good. It was only a matter of time that you would return to living the life you missed oh so dearly, and you couldn’t wait for the day when the dreams that pushed you through the living epitome of hell became reality someday.

But why did an inscrutable ache gnawed at your chest as you witnessed Yuta collapsing at the doorway after work one day, struck with a high fever and whimpers laced with utmost pain slipped like mantras from his mouth? The opportunity is finally here where you could regain the freedom you’d desired for ages, so why did you freeze on the spot instead of sprinting out through the doorway? Karma finally came to haunt your captor, and you had every right to give Yuta a taste of his own medicine after what he had done to you. He didn’t deserve an ounce of your kindness, not even a pinch of it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Somehow, your conscience started to berate you for your selfishness — an irony compared to the lack of guilt and remorse the raven felt even after he put you through utter hell. And for some reason, an inkling of your mind decided that it would be cruel of you to leave the sick sorcerer on his own.

With that in mind, the bare minimum you decided to do for Yuta would be to take care of him until his fever went down.

Begrudgingly, you made some porridge and warm tea before stepping foot into your shared bedroom, only to find the light in Yuta's eyes rekindled once he caught a glimpse of you. The sorcerer's movements were sluggish compared to how he usually was at top condition, but the raven still manage to sit on the bed, cheeks flushed as you reluctantly held out a spoon of porridge to his mouth.

"Did you make this ... for me, love?" You nodded, eyes refusing to meet his. A weak chortle echoed at the edge of your hearing whilst Yuta reached out his hands, gently holding your face. "I'm so happy ... after everything I've done ... you've finally learnt how to appreciate everything I've done."

Like hell I would.

"Say y/n ... why did you choose to stay?" Your blood froze; of all questions, why did the damn sorcerer chose to ask you this?

"Yuta ... if I were to be honest, I don't know myself. You cannot change the fact that I still hate you for what you've done to me ... but if there is one thing that I've learnt, it is to have a heart for everyone. Even for the ones I hate."

Tension was thick between the two of you for a while before the raven spoke up again. "But that means your heart still has room for me ... right?"

What the —

"You said you still couldn't forgive me ... but you didn't use this chance to run away, right? You still cared for me even when I was in my weakest state ... right? That still proves you love me." Upon hearing what he had to say, you were at an absolute of words. Just how inebriated was his mind to come up with such ideas?

"You still love me ... right?" Desperation glimmered in his eyes as the distance between the two of you closed up without warning. "You are the only person that I have in this cruel world, and I just cannot afford to lose you, y'know? Please tell me you still love me ..."

No, I can't do this. He was selfish and delusional ... he doesn't deserve to be forgiven like this. You shook your head vigorously.

But why can't I bring myself to hate him? Behind Yuta's gentle smile, the sadness was akin to a bottomless void, soundlessly corrupting the once saccharine soul that brought grins to people around him. No matter how terrible he was, he was still a human being deserving of love. And I just couldn’t bear seeing him drowning amidst such unbearable melancholy, no matter how I try to ignore it ...

Since when had I started to have feelings for a monster like him?

"Yes ... I love you, Yuta."

[omiscurls]

hmm this is like my first time responding to a request thing so here goes: (slight webtoon spoilers!!)—- imagine if you/reader finds out about kaeyas secret accidentally, before he told diluc. how would he react to that? i’ve given some thought into it and i’d love to see your perspective!

dark whispers

plot: hurt/comfort, reader finds out about kaeya's secret before anyone else

contains: kaeya

warnings: WEBTOON SPOILERS, the story takes place before the start of the game, approximately 5-6 years, alcohol, acting under the influence, you can even say underage drinking, curse words

the sun had long set behind the mountains adoring the territories of mondstadt city. it's people had already closed their shops, workshops and businesses, having gone home to their families, many of them possibly already drifting off to sleep.

some individuals, as everyday, be it a workday, weekend, or a holiday, decided to go entertain themselves with different kinds of alcohol at the local tavern.

but to some of the mondstadt folk, that day, that evening was a special one, for it was a celebration of the ever so famous master crepus' adoptive son, kaeya, turning seventeen.

the night fell special even for regular customers, not only the ones celebrating, for it was rare for the master of the dawn winery himself to pour drinks and serve them at his establishment. for the birthday of his son, though, he had abandoned his normal nightly duties, and stood behind the counter for a good couple of hours, giving one speech and joining everyone in singing happy birthday for the young knight.

he had gone home around an hour ago, leaving the happy, slightly drunk bunch of customers in the hands of a younger bartender.

"alright" kaeya's older brother, and cerpus' firstborn, diluc, had made everyone quiet with the way he clapped his hands, a sly smirk on his lips as he looked his friend and brother in the eyes. diluc, being older, already knew the taste and... other qualities of alcohol a little better than the blue-haired boy, so he found nothing but amusement in the way kaeya couldn't find balance on his chair, or in how his eyes just wouldn't focus on one spot, instead wandering around the walls and ceiling of the tavern. "kaeya" he called out, making the boy face him with a dumbfounded look. "you're one round of shots behind me"

kaeya's expression changed to distressed within seconds, as he examined the three glasses before his eyes, wondering if he'll even fit those in his stomach.

"is yer head made out of stone or sum?" he slurred out "how're ya this sober?"

diluc laughed, pointing to the glasses.

"less complaining, more bottoming these out" he rushed, arms crossing at his chest, as he leaned back on his chair and observed his little brother struggle to make the decision.

"go to hell" kaeya mumbled, emptying the drinks one by one, a grimmace coming to his face right after he had laid the last glass back on the table. "what even is that?" he asked, unamused, as diluc responded happily:

"firewater."

a smile of satisfaction painted the redhead's face.

"what?" kaeya's eyes widened "how'd you even get this past father?" he leaned lower on the table, studying diluc's expression. „that’s like, forty percent sheer alcohol!”

"i have my ways" he responded enigmatically, and kaeya shook his head in resignation.

"aight" the birthday boy took a deep breath "your turn. ya don't want to loose now, do you?" remains of a grin lifted the point of his mouth, as diluc chuckled, pouring the transparent liquid into the glasses yet again.

"what's the prize?" you asked one of their friends, having come late to the scene of the challenge.

"oh, the one to loose has to do the other's chores for a month" the guy responded, eyes not darting away from how diluc managed to empty all three glasses, much to kaeya's dispair.

hours had passed, and everyone slowly left the birthday party, diluc leaving kaeya in your hands, as he helped the bartender clean up the mess the young knights had made. you asked the blue-haired boy if he wanted to get some fresh air, to which he nodded, you can't say eagerly, but nodded nonetheless. so that leaves you to where you were now, slowly walking towards your place, kaeya bumping into your side every now and then as he lost balance.

"did you have fun?" you asked happily, eyes focusing on his face, waiting for a response.

"yea" he murmured, not even sparing you a look.

"poor you, are you that wasted?" you continued, amused, as a hiccup left his throat.

"'m not wasted" he denied instantly. " 't was nice to spend some time with diluc, we all know i don't have much of that left"

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you stop in your tracks, making him stop, too. he seemed to have thought this was a normal thing to say, and politely waited for you to start walking again, but you didn't, instead crossing your arms, and asking again.

"what do you mean by that?"

he scoffed, almost rudely. " he's gon' hate me for life, isn't it obvious?" he slurred, head lifting to look on the starry sky, hands going deeper inside his pockets. your expression turned even more confused, as he stared up, acting like it was the most natural thing to say, and like everybody knew this.

"what's he gonna hate you for? he's your brother, he loves you deeply, right?" you wanted to rub his arm, or something, do anything to soothe the feelings that must've been eating him alive, but stayed still.

"brother" he scoffed again. you couldn't possibly see, from the angle his head was at, but hot tears flooded his eyes as he said the word out loud, and the moment of silence that came after, he used to calm down even the slightest bit. "i think that's the most beautiful lie i ever came up with, y'know? brother." he repeated.

"what- what do you mean by that?"

"i've been nothing but a useless homewrecker to his family for as long as i have been in this world. how did i ever find the audacity to call myself his brother? oh my, even i hate my guts for this." he chuckled, painful irony overflowing his voice "and my dearest, short-tempered diluc is gonna flip the fuck out, for sure"

"kaeya" you asked, growing to be scared of how mysteriously he was acting "is there anything you wish to tell me?"

you swallowed a gulp in your throat by saying that, and awaited the reply in stress, even if you didn't know why.

his gaze finally came down from the sky, as he looked at you with a sad smile.

"if it was up to me, i'd wish not to tell a soul anything. but i have been lying for far to long, and my so-called family did nothing to deserve that. nothing, nothing bad, ever, and yet they've been cursed to deal with one like me. truly unfair, the fate of this world. how kindness pays off in nothing but sorrow."

you could tell he was a bit more sober by how his words were more understandable than before, but he was still far from his right mind. you would've stopped him, but there was really no going back now, and you almost needed to hear what secret he was talking about.

"my dearest" he said, addressing you "please, do not get angry with me as well. i don't know what i'd do if i lost even more people than i intend to with this information."

after you nodded in confusion, he explained the story, briefly and in a twisted way, having little control over his slurred words.

you stood there in silence for a good long while as silent tears rolled down from both yours and his eyes.

"i'm sorry" he finally mumbled "i'm sorry, i swear i didn't do what i was designed to do, i didn't tell anyone anything, i didn't attempt to harm anyone. it wasn't my decision to make, i swear, i hold no loyalties to-"

"kaeya" you interrupted him, and he feared for the worst. "that must've been so confusing for the little kid you were"

the worried tone of your voice, the way your words were covered in affection, the way your eyes seemed to care, it all flooded his wrecked soul all too quickly and all to strongly, making him gasp for air, as if it was knocked out of his lungs.

"you- you don't think i'm a-"

"no" you interrupted again, afraid of how he might finish the sentence. "and neither will diluc. i can't promise you he won't be mad, because he probably will, but you're brothers, by blood or not. you're gonna fight and you're gonna make up, because no anger will ever top the love i'm sure he has for you. and if rougher days are really coming your way" you said, approaching him to wrap your arms around his shaky form. "then i'll stand by you to face them with you."

little did you both know. the date of diluc ragnvidr’s 18th was approaching faster than anyone could ever anticipated.

[parkersroses]

delicate. | harry styles.

summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it. 

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k 

warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it) 

a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry​ )

He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it. 

Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him. 

Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.

So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority. 

So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different. 

And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.

“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.

Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.

“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink. 

Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink. 

“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her. 

Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.

So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her. 

She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles. 

“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now. 

She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,” 

She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,

She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady. 

She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up. 

“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass. 

Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned. 

She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her. 

Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.

It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.

What the fuck!?, he thought.

She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously. 

Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?” 

Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later. 

He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her. 

As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question. 

“It’s Y/N,” she replied.

Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said. 

She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.

Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.

❋

Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was. 

She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.

And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. 

She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him. 

But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him. 

It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought. 

She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made. 

But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.

❋

Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening. 

When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner. 

They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal. 

“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles. 

Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.

He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.

But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up. 

She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth. 

Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”

It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”

“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”

Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while. 

“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained. 

Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along. 

“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked. 

Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled. 

Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to. 

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.

“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”

“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her. 

Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”

They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least. 

“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.

“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,” 

Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled. 

Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem. 

“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”

Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.

“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans. 

“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.

It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them. 

Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”

His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him. 

“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”

Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly. 

“Harry, please,” 

“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.

Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too. 

When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it. 

A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.

It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him. 

“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.

Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces. 

It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling. 

They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted. 

Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time. 

“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest. 

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay. 

Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were. 

“I’d like that,”

❋

When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking. 

“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?” 

“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured. 

Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so. 

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”

The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.

He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore. 

It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same. 

It all just felt right. 

❋

The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it. 

Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit. 

He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned. 

“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter. 

“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter. 

“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father. 

Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly. 

Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.

“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away. 

Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle. 

“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.

As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.

Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon. 

His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.

Everything was just right.