#this is just a way for me to face my horrible social anxiety and actually talk to people and make friends

[seeingivy]

historic wins

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: mentions of implied SA/uncomfortable agent, nothing else too serious. reader has anxiety before performing, eren being sick in love, baddie moment

an: when I tell you writing this chapter took ten years of my life, it really did. i literally had the worst day ever regardless BUT i regurgitated out and i can't tell if i hate it bc my mood is bad or bc its actually bad if its bad let all just collectively close our eyes please bc it ACTUALLY gave me a tension headache FDSFDSF

previous chapter

--

You knock on the door, the stress sitting on your shoulders, as you hear rustling behind the frame. When it swings open, you’re met with Marco and Reiner answering the doors, the two of them swiftly pulling you in and slamming the door shut behind you. 

“Did anyone see you when you came in?” Reiner asks, his hand still pulling you up the stairs. 

“No. Was-is there someone there or-”

“Paparazzi. They’ve been swarming since yesterday, we've barely been able to leave as it is.” Marco responds. 

They drag you up the stairs and both push open the first white door open. You’re met with five pairs of eyes staring you down. Eren, Connie, Mikasa, Ymir, and Historia - who looks downright horrible. 

You figured it was bad. You had seen the headlines on your way down - saying Historia was canceled, her trending on Twitter, her socials getting blocked. And you always thought that situations like this were sensationalized when you weren't famous, something horrible to go through. But it’s worse than you expected.

She looks sick. 

Her complexion is pale green, her eyes rimmed red, and her hair is tangled into such a mess at the top of her head that it’s making your stomach turn.

The Historia you know - glimmering blue eyes, soft blow-dried hair - is no comparison to the downright ghost you’re looking at now. And the worst part of it all is her expression.

Broken. Defeated. Crushed. 

You walk forward, opening your arms for her to sink into, and she immediately breaks out into sobs. She’s crying into your shoulder, her salty tears making a home against your skin and her cries so loud they're giving you goosebumps. You can see the rest of them behind you - Mikasa and Ymir sharing a knowing look - as Historia lets go and crawls back into the middle of her bed. 

You take a seat next to Eren on the floor, the two of you crisscrossed against her pale pink walls. He links his hand with yours as you plop your head onto his shoulder. 

“Is that everyone?” 

“Yeah, Hisu. The rest of them couldn’t get off and Levi and Hange are on their way now.” Ymir responds, her hands making small circles into her back. 

“Okay. I-I appreciate you coming, even when everyone hates me right now.” 

“We could never hate you, Hisu. Ever.” Eren responds the tone definitive, angry, and firm. It only occurs to you now that you’ve never really seen Eren like this - his shoulders tensed up, the look in his eyes burning hot instead of softly warm. 

“I know, I just-”

“No one could ever make us change our mind about you, Historia. The shit they’re saying doesn’t even sound like you. Why would you randomly fire your agent when you’ve literally loved him for years?” Reiner responds. 

Historia’s face pales at the mention of her agent, the reaction catching all of you off guard. Eren pulls his arm around your shoulder as you both slump farther down the wall, the anticipation, the anxiety of what Historia’s about to say so palpable it makes your throat dry. 

“I did fire my agent.” Historia chokes out. 

You remember her agent well, from when you met him at the season two premiere. He was a tall guy, with chocolate brown hair and a fair amount of wrinkles. He couldn’t be much older than your own parents, but he was always the biggest supporter of Historia. The first person in line to brag about her, about how amazing her career has been, how many credits she has for how old she is. 

“Why?” Connie asks. 

Historia takes a deep breath, her head in her hands and her voice shaky as she starts explaining. 

“I was set to act in Endless Love, that big movie being produced at the end of winter. I had gotten the lead role and I found out on my birthday, while I was still filming that limited series. I-I threw a big party to celebrate the fact that I was turning eighteen, that I was getting my dream roles, that my work was finally coming to fruition and-” 

She pauses, leaning back on her bed as she screeches it out of her voice. And what she says hangs in the air, making your head feel like solid metal. 

“The party ended and he was…congratulating me on everything. And I told him that I appreciated everything he had done for me, how far he had helped me come. And when-when I said that, he said…if I was really grateful, I’d give him a kiss.” 

You pause, the implication sticking in your mind. Eren had hinted it to you before. That people in the industry take advantage, that they’re so powerful, so successful that it makes them feel entitled, deserving of whatever it is they please. 

“I fired him. He went on Twitter, made a few tweets about my character when the news broke and you know how he is. They’re-they’re dragging my name through the mud. Calling me spoiled, that I paid to get the roles that I had, calling me names, sending me death threats and I-”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Levi and Hange will be here any minute and you know they’ve had their fair share of this. Hange especially and they’ll know what to do and-” Ymir starts. 

“This is career-ruining. I didn’t do anything- anything at fucking all and my career is over if I tell the truth. I have to stay quiet, put my head down, and take it all if I still want to do this and I do.” 

You all sit quietly, head down as she pants, the words angrily spilling out of her mouth. The words hang in the air, the silence deafening. Because what do you even say to that? 

Can you really compromise your own feelings for the sake of your career? Your art? 

“Okay, Historia. Let’s talk, just us, okay?” 

You all turn your heads to find Levi and Hange leaning against the doorframes, Erwin standing at the back too. You all stand up, Historia running first to Hange and the rest of you following suit. You and Eren reach for Levi first, squeezing him way too hard. Levi ruffles both of your hair as you look up at him, a soft smile pressed against his face. 

“Okay, run off. Let us talk to Historia first, okay?” 

You both nod, letting go of Levi as you walk down the hall. 

“Levi?”

“Hm, Y/N?” 

“I missed you.” 

“Don’t be corny, brat.” Levi responds, glaring at you. You smile back and he most definitely murmurs something that sounds like I miss you too as you and Eren walk out. 

- 

The lot of you settle for milling around the kitchen, Mikasa talking Ymir down from her hill of rage in the back. You can’t help but watch Eren in the back corner, leaning against the counter with his eyes fixed on the outside. 

There’s a group of stormy, angry-looking gray clouds simmering in the air above, the grass outside lush and green. It’s positively gloomy, the weather matching the storm brewing in all of your heads. 

Eren flicks his eyes over at you, making a gesture for the two of you to go outside. You nod, setting down your phone as you walk over to him, the two of you sliding open the side door and walking out onto the pavement. Historia’s house opens up onto a nice green field, surrounded by lush, flowery hills. 

He’s walking faster than you, his long legs carrying him to the closest slope. When the breeze picks up, it’s moving through your hair strongly and sending a shiver down your spine with it. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Just a little, Eren. I didn’t realize it would be this cold outside.” 

He immediately shrugs off his dark green hoodie, the one you’ve seen a hundred times, and yanks it over your head. He’s placing it over your head haphazardly and you can hear him laughing at your protests. 

“You know, you could have at least aimed for my head when you yanked it on me.” 

“Be quiet. Let’s sit.” 

He plops down onto the grass, lying flat against the flowers as you join him. You’re both watching the clouds swirl above, the blades of grass whistling in the wind against your hands. 

“This is lying down, Eren.” 

“Oh, shut up. Do you always have to talk back?” 

You turn your head to the side, looking into his eyes. 

“Maybe a little bit.”

He rolls his eyes, turning his head back to the sky. You can tell he’s more tense than usual, his jaw clenched against his skull and his eyebrows knit in irritation. 

“Are you okay, Eren? You've seemed off today and-” 

“Quit asking me that!” 

You’re thrown off by the immediate rejection, the tone in his voice so angry it nearly makes you flinch. You can feel your skin burning - in embarrassment and humiliation for asking him something stupid-

His hand comes down on yours, squeezing three times, as he shifts over to face you. You follow suit, the two of you lying on your sides, face to face with your interlocked hands in between you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I’m not mad at you. Marco and Connie, they’ve just been asking all day and I’m okay and it’s just getting tiring to-” 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. I-I can never be mad at you, I just-just got frustrated for a second, but never at you.”

You lift your hand, placing it on his ice-cold cheek, and squeeze once. 

“It’s okay, Eren. I know,” you whisper. 

He gives you a smile, closing his eyes as he leans his head against the flowers. They’re pale yellow and you silently wonder if they’re as soft as Eren’s skin feels under your hand. 

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” he whispers. 

“Want to tell me about it?” 

“I-I have a brother.” 

“Zeke. I remember, Eren.” 

“We-we don’t really get along anymore, but I loved him when I was a kid. He was always so cool - driving me around in his car to get ice cream, teaching me tricks on all the video games I used to play, and acting in all these really cool shows. But, he-he” 

You place a hand on his shoulder, moving it back and forth and trying your best to comfort him into talking. Eren was always the worst with words. 

“He had a scandal like this. And then he started talking to all these big producers, acting differently all of a sudden. He stopped talking to me all together after it all happened and only to my parents when he needed something. Even to this day, he’s come back from what happened but he was never the same. And I-” 

“That’s not going to happen to Historia, Eren. Don’t think like that.” 

He leans forward, dragging you into his embrace, as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. You bring your hands up, dragging him through the tresses of his brown hair as he squeezes harder. 

“It just-I got iced out by him. I wanted to be around him, wanted to be him and he just stopped talking to me all together. I loved him so much and I-

“Eren. Historia loves you. She’s not going to ice you or any of us out from this because she’s not like that. None of us will. And maybe your brother had a reason for what he did.” 

You and Eren stay like that for a few minutes, the words hanging in the air between you. You can feel your chest stinging at Eren’s words, his stress from the situation making more sense now. You curse the fact that Eren might have been dealing with something like death threats, people spewing hatred before he was old enough to even understand what it meant. 

“Hey. You’re supposed to be on my side, Y/N.” 

“This is being on your side. Sometimes that means being a devil's advocate a little bit, Eren.” 

He rolls his eyes as he readjusts and you can’t help but stare at them. His eyes. Bottle green, with specks of darker shades in the middle. Like a clear ocean or a shiny gem, glittering even in the dull light of the clouds. 

“What are you thinking, Y/N?”

“Your eyes have lots of colors, Eren. Pretty greens.” 

“Pretty?” 

“Pretty.”

He smiles, bringing a hand up to your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your lips. You can feel your body burning at the touch, at his eyes, at his smell all over you. 

“Eren. What are you do-” 

“Do you ever think about how we live in a fishbowl?” 

“A fishbowl?” 

“Like an aquarium. We’re fish on display, that everyone gets to point at and laugh at and enjoy. And then one day, when they don’t like us, they put their rods out and wring us out.” 

“I guess, Eren. Why do you-” 

“I like being a fish with you.” 

You lean back, squinting your eyes at him.

“You like being a fish with me?” 

“I just mean- that I- I like” 

“You think I smell like a fish, Eren.” 

“What? I didn’t say that- oh my god, I just meant that we’re two fishes swimming together and-” 

“The plural of fish is fish. Not fishes.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, getting up off the grass to tackle you in the grass, pinning you down by your arms to hover over you. He’s smirking at you, his lips only a few feet from yours. 

“You’re annoying, Y/N. I was trying to be cute.” 

“Let me go. Is this how you treat your fellow fish?” 

“Shut up. We’re not fish together anymore because you’re rude.” 

He gets up off of you, plopping back into the grass next to you. You’re both laughing, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard and the blood rushing to your head. 

“I’m just teasing, Eren. The whole fish thing is cute.” 

“Now you’re just saying that so I’ll stop being mad at you.” 

“Hey! I get what you’re saying. It’s like…we’re fish. People stare and talk and whatever and it sucks. And no one really understands what it’s like to be a fish, even when they’re staring at us through the glass, but you do. They’ll always be something between us and them, but you and I are always on the same side. We-we have each other.” 

He smiles, bringing his hand back up on the back of your neck and pulling you closer to his face. When he talks, he whispers, the breath tickling your skin. 

“So if you got the fish thing why were you giving me so much attitude about it?” 

“I have to keep you in line, Eren. You can’t have all the cards.” 

“I don’t even have one, Y/N. Not even one when it comes to you.” 

He smiles, his eyes shut as he leans forward to press his lips to yours. But before he can, his phone starts buzzing behind him and he leans back, the two of you awkwardly scrambling off of each other. 

The moment passed. 

“Reiner. This better be something fucking good.” 

“What? Okay, we’re coming back now. Oh my god.” 

Eren stands up, holding out a hand to you. You place your hand in his and he nearly yanks you up, the two of you running downhill back to the house. 

“What-what happened?” 

“The TV awards. They announced the nominations.” 

- 

When you both run back in, Reiner and Marco immediately drag you to the center couch, next to Historia who's crying puddles and Ymir who's holding her like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Hisu got a nomination. Despite this shit.” Reiner says, smiling. 

You and Eren smile at each other too, piling onto Ymir and Historia, and squeezing hard. A win. 

When the program starts again, you’re all staring intently at the screen, you and Eren anxiously fumbling with each other’s hands as you wait for it. They’ve announced almost all of them, except the major acting ones which are the only ones you and Eren could really be nominated for. 

“Speaking of historic nominations, lead actor for hit series Attack on Titan, Eren Jaeger, has garnered three nominations - including a major six category for Actor in a Lead Role. He is the youngest person to be nominated for this award.” 

You turn your head, squeezing the entire circulation out of Eren’s hand as the realization sinks in. Actor in a Lead Role. Like Eren’s lifelong dream, Actor in a Lead Role. You reach forward, tangling your arms around his neck as Reiner and Mikasa pile on too, the three of you nearly strangling him by the way you’re shaking him. 

“Okay, okay let me go. You’re going to kill me before I can even go to the show and lose.” 

“Shut up. You’re so winning.” 

He rolls his eyes at you both keep watching the lady, announcing the costume design and casting awards. 

“And finally, our record-breaking announcement. Lead actress for the hit series Attack on Titan, Y/N L/N, has broken history by being our most nominated actress in Institute history. Including nominations for the ensemble cast, she has garnered five nominations, including two major six categories for Actress in a Lead Role and Breakout Actress. She is the first non-SHWA affiliated actress and the youngest to ever do so.” 

Eren drops the remote and turns to you, cupping your face in his hands and dragging your face as close as he can to his. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You-you’re insane. You just-” 

He nearly leans forward, pressing your lips together for the second time in the past twenty minutes, but Marco and Mikasa cut him off before you can, the two of them jostling you from his embrace to squish you in a hug. You give Eren an apologetic look, which he shakes his head at. 

They’re all squishing you so hard - Levi and Hange pressing kisses to the top of your head and Historia squeezing the life out of all of you - but all you can think about is one thing. Eren, standing a few feet away from you, smiling at you like you’re the sun. 

It only occurs to you then and there.

That you’re in love with Eren Jaeger. 

-  

You guys leave on your press tour two weeks later, meeting up in New York. You have a full day of interviews for the pre-awards show the day before and then you’re all going to fly out to Los Angeles together and attend the awards. 

Not only are you nominated for six awards - which you still haven’t wrapped your head around - you’re also performing at the show. Your agent had reached out to you a few days after the nominations list went out and mentioned that you were listed to perform at the show. 

You hacked it out with Eren. You’d play the piano and perform New Year’s Day, the song you wrote together last year on your birthday, and be done with it. It’s the song you have the most practice working on since the rest of your songs are half-baked. 

But now that you’re doing press, you barely have any time to practice - being stuck between interviews all day. You shake the thought from your head as you and Eren clip your microphone jacks to each other’s shirts before walking onto the stage and standing in view. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger and I’m one of the leads of Attack on Titan.” 

“My name is Y/N L/N and I’m the other lead of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be taking a Friendship Test today!” 

Around halfway through the interview, the crew brings you and Eren little notepads and pens, instructing you guys to compliment each other. You scribble a few thoughts down as you and Eren stand on the stage, now facing each other. 

“Okay, you first, Eren.” 

Eren flips the notepad in his hands, awkwardly fumbling with his fingers when he does. When he looks up, his green eyes are awkwardly meeting yours. 

“Jeez, Eren. I didn’t realize it would be this hard for you to compliment me.” 

“Shut up. I was just thinking about how to start.” 

“More like thinking of what to say.” 

“Be quiet.” 

“Okay, okay. Compliment me, Jaeger.” 

He rolls his eyes, giving you a smile as he runs his eyes over the notepad. He seems much more at ease now, the awkwardness from before coming off in waves. 

“Y/N. I am the most stubborn person on the planet. Which only speaks volumes about how patient, understanding, and compassionate you really are for being my best friend.” 

You can feel your throat getting dry and your eyes welling with tears at literally the first sentence, taken aback by how sincere Eren’s being. The soft eyes, the one he only reserves for when he’s lying down on hills or writing songs with you on the piano are out in the flesh, and they’re making your heart pound so much you’re sweating under the lights. 

“You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.”  

You can feel the tears streaming down your eyes as reach up to wipe your tears away, knowing you’re smudging the makeup your team spent hours on. 

“You’re not terrible to look at either.” 

He smiles into the camera on the side and you can feel the tears spilling from your eyes, your nose filling with snot. 

“Eren.” 

“Told you it was good.” 

“Shut up. That was so sweet, I didn’t even know you knew half of those words, let alone what they mean.” 

Eren reaches forward, rolling his eyes at you as he squishes your cheeks. 

“I literally just called you the best person I know and you’re still being annoying?” 

“Yes. It’s a full-time job.” 

He turns to the camera, moving your squished face towards the camera with him. 

“Do you guys see what I have to deal with? My girl is literally the most stubborn person on the planet.” 

“Didn’t you call me infinitely patient five seconds ago?”  

You both stand back on your marks as you wipe your tears, reaching forward to hold Eren’s hand. You squeeze three times, which he returns with another three squeezes, before you take your own notepad and read your compliment out to Eren. 

“Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together.” 

Eren smiles at the fish line, leaning forward to crush you in a hug. You can smell the clean laundry smell on his shirt, breathing it in as you soak in Eren’s embrace around you. 

“Hey Y/N.” 

“Hey Eren.” 

“I love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, Eren.” 

After the interview is over, you and Eren are stuck on this stage for another hour before the rest of the cast comes to do another interview. You both stay in the back, near the snack table and run through the song again.

“Eren.” 

“Hm?”

“I don’t know why I got signed up to perform at this thing. I-I don’t think I’m ready to perform this song yet.” 

“You are. New Year’s Day is a great song and you’re an amazing singer. Plus, the person you wrote the song about is really attractive, so that helps your case too.” 

You reach forward to flick his cheek. 

“Shut up. New Year’s Day is not about you.” 

“I’m literally your inspiration. You literally wrote a love song about me.” 

“You wish, Eren.” 

“I don’t have to. I can see it written all over your face, sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart? When did you become so cocky?” 

“When did you become so beautiful?” 

“Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

You’re both cut off by one of the crew members, a shorter, older woman standing near the table with her eyes fixed on you. She smiles when you guys both turn towards her, extending her out. 

“Hi. My name is Le-”

“Leila. I remember. You helped us fix the microphone packs before we started!” you respond. 

“Oh. Yes, Leila. I can’t believe you remembered that. I-I was going to ask you for a favor if that’s okay.” 

“Sure. We’d love to help however we can.” 

“My daughter. She’s a really, really big fan of the show. I was wondering if we could take a picture together so we could send it to her.” 

You smile, gesturing to Eren to stand up with you as you take a picture with her. You and Eren are both taller than her so you put your hands around her shoulders and muster the biggest smiles you can for the picture.

“Are you sure you didn’t want us to make a video of us saying hi to her or anything? Or maybe call her if she’s free? If there’s a paper here we can sign something as well or anything you want.” you ask. 

“Oh, I couldn’t impose. You guys have been so kind already and-” 

“Nonsense. Eren and I are just going to sit here and I’d really love to help make her day. You work so hard day and night on these sets for us and make sure everything works by the time we get here and we really, really appreciate it.” 

You and Eren end up filming a video for her daughter since she’s already asleep so you can’t call her, and you and Eren also sign a few posters for her to take home to her daughter. 

“Y/N. Just so you know, you’re amazing. My daughter was so inspired when you signed yourself up to perform at the awards show after you openly talked about how nervous it makes you. You actually gave her the courage to sign up for a dance team at her school and she actually made it on the team now. My point is you’re a big inspiration to everyone and the strides you’re making for all of us don’t go unnoticed.” 

She gives you both one last hug as she runs off back to the other side of the set, giving you a smile as she leaves. Eren brings his hand around your shoulder, leaning forward as he smiles at you. 

“You hear that, Y/N? You’re an inspiration.”

“It’s weird to hear that, Eren. I remember being that kid watching Hange win on the screen when I was little. And if I win-” 

“When. When you win.” 

“If I win, it’s weird to think that I could be that for someone else.” 

“You’ve always been that way. People are just noticing it now.” 

“Do you have to sign yourself up to sing for the awards, by the way? Because…I never even told my agent that I had written a song. She just told me that I would be performing and then I started prepping.” 

“Yeah. You have to send a demo for them to accept the performance.” 

You lean back, even more confused than you were before. There’s no demo of New Year’s Day. How could they accept your performance if there’s no record of you singing it? How could they even know you wrote a song when the only person who knows you even finished it was Eren? 

Eren. 

“What did you do?” 

“Hm?” 

“You did something, Eren. What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything.” 

“Eren.” 

“Maybe, I took the sheet music and recorded a demo of me singing it. And convinced them that it would sound even better when you did it, because it’s your song.” 

You smack him across the shoulder. 

“You signed me up to sing the song? In public, on live television?” 

“The song is good. You’re a phenomenal singer. And you can’t become a triple threat unless people hear you sing.” 

-   

You stand on the other side of the curtain, shiny and gold, as you readjust your dress one last time. You take a deep breath as you give a smile to Marco and Jean, who are right behind you, squeezing your arms. 

“You’re good. You look great and you’re going to kill it tonight. And Eren just walked out on the carpet so he’ll be right there.” Marco says, smiling brightly at you. 

You nod, giving the two of them a smile back, as you part the curtains and walk out onto the red carpet. You can feel your ankles shaking from the heels you were wearing, making sure to walk slowly so they didn’t tangle with the long, purple billowing fabric of your dress. As you turn to the right, you’re immediately blinded by the flashing lights and the sound of screaming from the photographers on the other side of the red carpet. 

The lights are so blinding that you can feel yourself squinting, trying your hardest to muster a smile with your eyes closed. You can already feel the embarrassment coming on from how these pictures are going to trend later, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Put these on.” 

You turn to the left to see Eren, his hair messily styled to perfection. He’s holding up sunglasses, a matching pair in his hand as well. You both place them on your nose, garnering a big amount of cheers from the paparazzi as you both pose together, Eren’s hand around your waist. 

“How did you know?” you whisper under your breath. 

“You can barely handle Armin’s Polaroid. You get used to the flashes, but the first time it’s hard to adjust. And this is a big night, so I had to make sure I had a contingency plan.” he says. 

“Always thinking ahead, huh?” 

“Only for you, sweetheart.” 

All you can think about is the awards, the performance, and the anxiety building in your stomach with every passing second. You force a smile as you both walk down the carpet, stopping every few seconds to take pictures and smile. At one point, Eren stands in front of you in the camera, blocking the view. 

“What a picture, Eren. You really want them to get a shot of your ass?” 

“No. Your dress. It’s kind of sliding off the side.” 

You look down, realizing that in all the movement and sweating you’re doing under the lights, that one of the clasps keeping the fabric in place came undone. You quickly tuck the clasp back together and look up to shoot Eren a smile. 

“Thanks. You just saved me from flashing everyone on the carpet.” 

“That doesn’t sound too horrible, doll.” 

You and Eren turn around to find Sukuna and Nobara standing at your side, the two of them wrapping their arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheeks. Eren immediately yanks Sukuna off, his arm stiff around Sukuna’s shoulder. 

“You never get less annoying, do you?” Eren asks. 

“Not really, no.” 

“You look really pretty, Y/N. We’re really rooting for you, we want you to win.” Nobara says, her hands squeezing yours. 

“Don’t get your hopes up. These types of things are kind of a long shot, Kugi.” 

“We know. Doesn’t stop me from rooting for you though.” 

You smile, leaning to take a picture with her before the four of you walk off to the side, continuing your conversation. 

“Where are Yuu and Maki? I haven’t seen them since they started dating and stopped responding to my texts.” 

Sukuna and Nobara share an awkward look, leaning forward to whisper in your's and Eren’s ears.

“They broke up. Well, just wait. You know the mess they're in is going to find its way to the tabloids somehow.” 

You and Eren cringe as you share a look, thinking about Historia’s scandal from a few weeks ago. You can’t imagine how much worse it must be when it involves the two of them. The intimate details of their relationship being on display.

“You look pretty, doll. Way more confident and self-assured than you were when I met you. It suits you.” 

Eren slithers his hand around your waist, the grip firm, as he responds to Sukuna. 

“She’s always been like that.” 

“Okay, Eren. Pipe down. I’m not about to be swapping saliva with your girl anytime soon. Though you might want to get a move on that, everyone’s going to have their eyes on your girl by the end of the night.” Sukuna says, smirking at Eren. 

“You sound disgusting, Sukuna. Like a pervert.”  Nobara says, rolling her eyes at him. 

“That’s what happened with Yuuta and Maki. Everyone went all gaga for Yuuta after the movie dropped. And after she sings too, Eren’s going to fight to stay afloat over here.” 

“Ignore him, Eren. His neurons are decaying as we speak.” Nobara responds, giving Eren a smile. 

“I’m well aware,” Eren says, giving the two of them a smile as they walk away. 

As Sukuna walks away, Eren only tightens his grip on your waist, literally seething with anger as he turns to you. You can tell he’s burning, that he’s jealous or aggravated like he always is when Sukuna's around, and you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I hate that guy. So much, Y/N.” 

“You know he just says that because you’re easy to piss off right?” 

“Are you really taking his side?” 

“I’m just saying. You give him a lot to work with when you react like that. You should try to be zen. Like a flower.” 

"I'm so zen right now." 

"There's a vein on your forehead that's pulsating from how hard you're clenching your jaw, Eren. You're more of a cactus than a pretty flower."

Eren rolls his eyes as he drags you into the auditorium, the two of you taking your seats at the front. 

-  

Five awards later - two of which you won - and you’re standing behind the stage ready to puke. You choked out your best acceptance speech when you won Breakout Actress, spilling tears as you spoke, and luckily enough the other award was one you and Eren won together. He carried most of your speech together, though Eren spent most of it raving about you. 

Reiner’s still on stage, doing his acceptance speech for Breakout Actor and you’re ready to annihilate yourself. When you came back out after winning your award, getting ready for the performance, you received the worst news possible. 

You have to play the piano while you sing. You have to play the piano while you sing because the pianist you’ve been practicing with has food poisoning. 

You lie down flat on the ground, the silver dress you just put on, feeling heavy against your skin, weighing you down. 

“Are you okay? Y/N, you’ll be fine, it's just a piano.” 

Marco brings his hands to the side of your face, lifting your head so he can rest it on his lap. You’re totally aware of the fact that Marco’s sitting on this disgusting floor with you, in his expensive ass outfit, because you’re having a meltdown. You make a mental note to thank him for it later. 

“Oh my fucking god, Y/N. Can you believe it? We’re literally breakout stars.”

You look up at Reiner, now having come off the stage with his shiny silver trophy in hand and a huge smile on his face. You give him a weak smile back, the pressure in your head only getting more intense when you realize it’s your turn. Reiner nearly cringes at the sight of you, which you ignore as you flutter your eyes shut. After the ad break, they’re going to roll out a shiny black piano you're expected to play. 

“Get Eren.” Marco says and Reiner gives a swift nod. Reiner leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, whispering good luck, before he runs off into the background. 

Not even thirty seconds later, you’re met with Eren, a third person now sitting on the dirty floor with you with the softest expression on his face. He’s taken both of your hands, pressing your knuckles to his lips as he presses a kiss onto them both. 

“You okay?” 

“The pianist. Has food poisoning. I have to play the New Year’s Day piano, Eren.” 

“You have magic hands. You can do it.” he whispers.

You can feel Marco’s hands in your hair, fixing away the flyaways as you look up at him. Marco nods too and you can feel yourself feeling dizzy. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t sing for the first time and play the piano. I-I can’t do this.” 

"Y/N. Come on. You can do this." 

You can feel the tears burning in your eyes when you meet Eren's bottle green ones, washed over in concern. And you know that it's just a piano, that it's juat a crowd, and that it's a song that you've sang a million times. But the anxiety is as big as a balloon, ready to burst into something ugly the second you walk out there under the lights.

Eren frowns as he looks over at the piano, getting rolled out onto the stage, and the crew awkwardly looking at you splayed out on the ground. They're pointing at their watches, signaling that if you're going to perform, you're going to do it now. And Eren can't let you choke, not when it's this important. So he does the only thing he can think of. 

“I’ll play the piano." 

You sit up and put your hands on his shoulders, squeezing hard on the fabric of his suit. 

"Huh?" 

"I'll sit at the bench with you. Play it for you so you can focus on singing." 

“Really, Eren?” you whisper. 

“Can’t do anything without me, can you?”

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, his face immediately turning pink at the sensation. He holds his hand out and helps you up, his hands leaning forward to fix the folds of your dress. You both stand on the side of the curtains and you’re nearly positive you’re cutting off circulation to both Marco and Eren’s hands as you wait for your cue. 

When you and Eren walk out, taking your seats on the piano bench and adjusting the microphones, you stare at the crowd. There’s a light flashing on you and Eren that’s partially obstructing your vision. You’re staring out at them - two hundred faces you don’t know and half a million watching at home. 

Don’t choke. Don’t choke. Don’t choke. 

It’s only then that Eren stops playing the piano, his hand on his shoulder shaking you. And then you realize now that he had started. Meaning he had played the entire intro waiting for you to sing and you didn’t. That you blanked on stage. He places his hand on your chin, lightly guiding your face to look at his. 

“It's okay. Just you and me. Like we did on set okay?” 

You nod and Eren starts playing the piano again. And before you know it, you’ve choked out the last lyric, and Eren’s holding your hand as you both bow on the stage. You see people cheering, standing up out of their seats as you walk off and you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. When you get off into the curtains, they immediately start yank the microphones off of you two as you reach forward for Eren’s hand. 

“I-I blacked out. Was it bad?” 

“It was amazing. You’re amazing. You-you’re” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other, foreheads pressed together. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit murder.” 

“You want me so bad,” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there are like seven people who just watched you suck face in public. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure out whatever is going on, without Connie and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

You both laugh, smiling at Marco and then each other. Levi and Mikasa call you from the other side of backstage, gesturing for you to come over to watch the video of the performance. You give Marco and Eren a smile before you run off to where they’re standing. 

“Told you she liked you, Eren,” Marco says, elbowing him in the side. 

“I love her,” Eren responds, watching Mikasa and Levi crush you in a hug as you all hunch over the video of you and Eren performing. 

Marco smiles, giving Eren a pat on the back before he walks off to join you. Eren stays, trying to commit the memory to mind. You in a sparkly, silver dress looking at him like he's the sun. 

Eren Jaeger is in love with you. 

- 

Two afterparties later and you and Eren are in a disgusting tattoo parlor down the street. 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this, Eren.” 

Eren smiles as he presses a kiss to your cheek, the two of you leaning through the little prints in the binder. You’re getting matching tattoos. 

“I can be very persuasive.” 

“Uh-huh. More like hypnotic. I’m half convinced you have me under some spell right now.” 

“You pick what we do. Whatever you want, I’ll get it tattooed.” 

“We should do something special, Eren. Like something that has significance to us.” 

Eren smiles, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles again before he responds. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s do fish.” 

You smile, nodding at him. 

“Koi fish. Like from that show, the Last Airbender. One fish is the ocean and the other one is the moon” you say. 

“I call the ocean, Y/N.” 

“What? I wanted to be the ocean.” 

“No. That doesn’t fit.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the moon pulls on the ocean. The waves in the ocean, objectively the best part, don’t exist without the moon. I’m the ocean. You’re my moon.” 

You smile, leaning forward to kiss Eren before you tell the artist the design you two want. And when the two of you walk out, matching sore arms from the ink, you can’t help but wonder how you ever got so lucky in the first place.

A few years down the line, you stare at Eren's blocked contact and think back to that moment. The two of you running down the streets, bathed in dim lamplight laughing into the night. Matching tattoos, a confession on the tips of your tongues like you're two soulmates destined to be together. 

You wonder where it got so fucked up between the two of you in the first place.

--

next part linked here

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[twig-tea]

TsukuTabe S2 Is Perfection

I’ve been waffling about what to write about Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna s2, which completed last week (and which we have access to at all thanks to the hard work of @furritsubs). I have had to just give up on getting across how much this show means to me; there's no way I'll be able to communicate these feelings with words. Season 1 was excellent but Season 2 was everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I needed. This is going to be more disjointed than usual because I don't know how to be coherent about this show (and because tumblr ate my first two attempts).

At its core, Tsukuritai Onna to Tabtetai Onna asks what if we were all just a little bit more conscientious and kind to one another? What if women were given space to be themselves and to make the choices that were best for them? This is the world of TsukuTabe, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to inhabit it over these last four weeks. 

I have so much love for the way Nomoto and Kasuga develop their relationship in conjunction with their relationships with the other women in their lives. Nagumo, Sayama, and Yako are integral to the success of Nomoto and Kasuga’s relationship, and they're also important relationships for the happiness of Nomoto and Kasuga in their own right. The found family vibes are immaculate. 

The conflict between Kasuga and Nomoto this season was so perfectly them; the way they struggled with the transition from friends to lovers and being two people who are kind and giving in a relationship together and how that requires honesty and trust were both familiar conflicts that hit me hard in the feels. 

Kasuga's conflict with her family also hit me really hard. I once did the wrong thing and showed up to support my family in caring for someone who abused me, and it was a horrible experience that was ruinous to my mental health and took years to get over (and in the end they had to find a different solution anyway, which they could have done in the first place). Watching Kasuga refuse to make a similar decision, standing strong in the face of the social pressures of her parents and her aunt was so healing for me. And then to have her decision affirmed by someone of her parent's age? I sobbed in those scenes. 

I also loved the way this season handled Nagumo’s anxiety issues and how she was given space to decide to get professional help on her own time and terms. The way her parents tried to help was also very familiar to me and realistic, and it was just a little heartbreaking how they tried and didn't understand how their attempts at helping added pressure in a way that wasn't helpful. 

The way this show covers this important beats in a person's life through these small, everyday moments, and in such a gentle way, is what I love so much about it. The show itself makes a safe space so that these subjects can come up and not feel overwhelming. 

And it's also really important to me that all of the characters get to have these moments. Sakae not only reflects on her insensitivity and the unfairness of Japan not having marriage equality, but she also reflects on the pressures on her to marry and whether she actually wants that for herself. Fujita not only helps Kasuga gain proxy acceptance for her choices but gets the same back for herself around her decision to divorce. All of these women live in ways that invoke social stigma, and the way this show gives explicit permission to these women to live their best lives is both cathartic and critical.

I can't end this disjointed ramble without talking about the character I most identified with this season, Yako. Yako is an older, self-actualized asexual lesbian who makes friends with Nomoto on the Internet, recommends lesbian films to her, and mostly listens and affirms as Nomoto goes through her own process of discovering herself. I ran a GSA and have been on the Internet a long time, I've been in Yako’s position a lot (though I can only aspire to be as kind and wise). She is so patient and so genuinely happy for Nomoto when she and Kasuga get together, and she seems so quietly thrilled to have more wonderful people in her life willing to indulge her random party ideas. Her sharing a connection to a LGBTQ+-friendly real estate agency while being angry on their behalf that she even has to was perfection. 

It's so important that these characters say the things they say aloud. I want to inscribe every sentence of this show into everyone's brains. This show is perfect, and lovely, and a warm bath, and a hug, and a cup of your favourite warm beverage perfectly fixed to your liking all in one. If you haven't done yourself the favour of watching yet, I highly recommend that you do so immediately. 

[not an ID: Real footage of the entire audience's satisfaction and catharsis after watching TsukuTabe S2. Actual ID in alt text].

[mayhemscorner]

Hold my drink

König x f!reader (x slight Alejandro)

⚠️18+ MINORS DNI⚠️

Summary: a night of drinking turns a chivalrous König in to a jealous man before the club is infiltrated. (A/N: i strongly agree König is socially anxious. I also believe this man is a dirty, DIRTY top who gets jealous easily. I wanted to make this a series but feel it’s too short to even bother stretching out.) (also open to ideas and requests)

Warnings: tobacco use, swearing, violence, mentions of anxiety, ANGST, pure unadulterated sex that stems from anger, orgasm denial.

“König! Hold my drink, I’ll be right back!” Y/N shouts over the foreign music throbbing at her ears, hoping to use the excuse of slipping outside for a smoke to clear her head. König gives a thumbs up from the secluded corner of their table, neither of them wanting to be here but trying their best at being good sports. The three at the table, better known as the grumpy brigade, included a brooding Ghost who refused to take off his signature mask. While passing the glimmering dance floor, Y/N is both mesmerized and disgusted as the others dance fluidly to the beat, flashing smiles and heaving out deep laughs of pure enjoyment while she suffers from anxiety in silence... and feeling like a horrible teammate for leaving König in the same situation.

“How adorable. I hate it.” Y/N mumbles to herself, turning away while smirking and lighting a cigarette as soon as her hand hits the door. The wind creeps against her bare arms, the only thing more uncomfortable than an issued uniform is a strapless dress, tight to the skin and leaving no secrets. 

“You must come from the heavens if you’re freezing under the desert heat, querida.” Alejandro steps out, lighting a fragrant cigar, letting it hang loosely from his lips as he takes off his dashing suit jacket. Y/N wondered if tonight was an excuse to see everyone dressed to the nines, a day off turning in to everyone finding flashy garments in the local Mercado, and Y/N begrudgingly being pulled around by Farah.

“If you call Texas heaven, then sure Vargas. And I appreciate the gesture but im not all that cold.” Y/N grumbles, taking several seconds before giving in and snatching the jacket that was still outstretched in Alejandro’s hand roughly. Once draped over her shoulders, Alejandro is quick to button the top notch that fell just below her breasts. He stops to look at her anxious face, quickly gripping her shoulder and sighing,” Y/N, this is a good opportunity for the units to mingle… get to know each other. I only do these things to extend a hand of friendship. Do not be misguided by my actions.”

“The way you haven’t stopped looking at me has me thinking otherwise, vaquero.” Y/N smirks,  letting the cigarette smoke escape her lips and plume to the side, slipping a hand on his chest and stretching upwards to whisper in his ear,” and I might let that hand of friendship wander if it gets me out of here.”

The smell of tequila wafts heavily in the air, signaling her less than sober words were a guise of being anywhere but here, even if it meant staying in someone else’s bed for the night. Y/N knew the vaqueros had actual beds to sleep on instead of cots, though it wasn’t who she would’ve preferred. 

Alejandro sinks his teeth lower in to his cigar, eyebrows crinkling at the woman in front of him,” Y/N. Tequila has a way of bringing our desires to the surface, but I must admit, I’m flattered by the offer.”

Alejandro suavely removes the cigar from his mouth, holding it gently as he stoops to leave a tobacco fragrant kiss on the back of her hand, and sliding the suit jacket up just enough to kiss her wrist as well. He pauses, eyes slowly creeping to Y/N’s in question,” but I must ask, is this truly what you desire, or do you feel I’m your only escape?”

Y/N puffs on the end of her cigarette before flicking it away, heat rising to her cheeks as she grips both hands at the deep blue collars of his shirt, dragging him back up for a heated kiss. Her mind raced, it was so wrong, but the promise of getting out of here was more important than her dignity at this very moment.

Her back hits against the surprisingly warm brick wall as Alejandro hoists her legs to wrap around his torso, kisses becoming more rapid with the expert use of tongue from Alejandro. Y/N gasps for air, turning to catch a glimpse of König’s hulking figure, and rage glazed eyes staring directly in to her perverse soul as he steps out the door. Even with his lower face covered with a black surgical mask in place of his usual sniper veil, she could see the disgust creep at his expression as her drink crushes in his hand before being tossed against the wall. König turns, stepping back through the doorway and slamming the door shut.

“König!” Y/N shouts, pushing off of Alejandro to rush after her desired team member.

“König, wait!” Y/N shouts out again, tearing through the doorway and crowd, trying to close the distance and being quickly thwarted by the sea of bodies that bumped and grinded against each other. König stalked to their table, grabbing his own suit jacket and aggressively throwing it on before turning to his shorter companion tugging at the back of his shirt in an effort to turn him around.

“You should stay, Y/N. Seems like you were really uniting the units back there. I don’t see why you’re so worried about me.” König bites his inner cheek, rage choking his throat and stinging at his eyes. She was supposed to be his, it was a silent promise he made to himself. The one he’s carried through battlefields, shielded with his own body, he was positive she was his. 

“König, you don’t understand! Just let me explain! Why do you even care? We’re teammates!” Y/N pleads, tugging at his shirt enough to pull the tuck loose from his pants and reveal his scarred side. 

“We can talk when we’re on base and sober. We both have some explaining to do.” He seethes out, encircling his fingers around her tiring wrist and tossing her hand to the side. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Enough you two. Sit down. There’s no reason to be in a tiff on our night off.” Ghost barks, clamping a hand against the two and forcing them to sit. 

“Right then, now talk. Out with it… both of you.” Ghost growls at them, sitting across from them safely with the table used as a buffer. 

Just as Y/N begins to talk, gun fire rings out, dulling the pulsating music as screams shriek violently in the air. König and Ghost both reach to pull an inebriated Y/N to the safety underneath the table, but the situation itself has quickly sobered her… as if the tequila itself evaporated from her system as soon as the first shot sounded. König and Ghost shielded her, knowing a flak jacket couldn’t be hidden under the skin tight and shimmering dress that encased her delicate body. 

“So much for a day off.” Ghost groans, pulling a hand gun from the hem of his pants and crouching in front of them to assess the situation. König reaches for his own, as Y/N scans the area for her purse that contained hers. Her eyes landing on the disgustingly sparkling bag discarded under a table nearby, most likely knocked around from the initial shock from the shootout. Y/N attempts to crawl over the shattered glasses and rubbish on the floor, only to be pulled back by a tight hand against Alejandro’s jacket that she still wore, landing directly in König’s lap and being restrained by his free arm. 

“You’re staying right here. Anytime you run off, you end up in danger, or locking lips with someone you barely know.” König huffs out, heavy breathing rattling them both as their anxieties build.

“Are you still bent up about me kissing someone? You’re my teammate, not my father, damnit!” Y/N grits her teeth, trying to wriggle free to no avail.

“I said you’re staying here, verdammt!” König tightens his arm and hooks an ankle over her flailing legs, quickly suppressing the woman that was a weapon herself, and hoping she was humble enough not to fight back any longer. His hopes couldn’t be anymore wrong as her elbow digs in to the nearest pressure point, causing his teeth to almost crack under the restrained pressure. 

“If you’re jealous, say so, damnit!” Y/N spits, moving to another pressure point and slowly sliding from his grasp, just for König to regrip at the next opportunity.

“I’m trying to protect you!” He yells back, trying his best to keep a close eye on Ghost at the same time. Y/N digs once again, head now locked between his legs in a sloppy triangle,” I don’t need protecting for fucks sake! I need my gun!”

“We protect each other, and your only protection right now is me!” König clips out, tightening his legs around her windpipe, if knocking her unconscious was the best action to protect her, he’d apologize when she woke up swinging… and so he did. 

Y/N’s eyes snap open, anger boiling under her skin as the bottom of the table slowly comes in to focus and the sounds of crying stabs at her eardrums. Crying always meant it was over. During traumatic events, bystanders and victims are flushed with so much anxiety and adrenaline, leaving no time to cry. That’s how she knew her previous platoon was leaving Iraq, it was the pure terror releasing itself in the form of crying as her teammates embraced each other and made calls to home. 

She coaxed her aching body to roll, watching as the remaining who could walk were guided out by her teammates and the other units. Glass bit in to her knees as she used the table to hoist herself up, ankles wobbling against her raised heels that she’d prefer to rip off. 

Y/N trudged aimlessly in to the reckless crowd groggily and trying to focus, looking for any sign of König to give him a piece of her mind. She was quickly pushed around as others rushed for the door or their friends. The one thing that came with crying, was chaos. People wailing over covered bodies as others tried to coax them out, the pure silence that was only broken from the crying. It only made her get pent up even more as she finally heard König shouting directions to the victims, however duty came before rage. Y/N gracefully formed in line next to Ghost, creating a herding barrier to safely guide the remaining crowd out. Ghost bends down to her ear, speaking gruffly,” cartel. 7 dead. No motive has been found so far.”

“There’s always motive dear friend, but this is quite curious.” Alejandro sidles up to the two, looking slightly disheveled and splotched in blood. 

“Maybe they’re after you.” König butts in, looking down at Alejandro menacingly and folding his arms tightly. 

“That might’ve been the case, but if you remember I was still outside when this began. They could’ve easily taken me out without ever having to step inside.” Alejandro says back monotonously, picking up the jealousy that bites in his words as he obscures Alejandro’s view of Y/N. 

“And you let them through? Are we sure we can even trust him?” König directs his question to Ghost who sighs back,” enough. Just as they can’t tell us apart from civilians, we can’t either, König. At ease.”

König drops his shoulders in reply, rearing out the last of the civilians and walking out the door.

“Whatever you three have going on tonight can wait until this is all figured out. Until then, you can apologize or forget about it. Are we clear?” Ghost adresses the three, knowing König was still looming near the door. Alejandro nods, but the other two kept silent, finding anything but Ghost entertaining in that moment.

“I said, are we clear?” Ghost threatens.

“Yes.” The three chime together, huffing a few naughty words under their breaths while following Ghost outside and back to base.

Several hours and several interrogations later, it was an open and shut mission. The cartel members responsible already apprehended by the Los Vaqueros and disposed of or incarcerated respectfully. 

“Well then, I think that’s enough for one night.” Alejandro yawns, stretching upwards before standing and heading for the door. König steps in his direction, sealing the door with his frame and glaring between him and Y/N. 

“Not before we have a nice, civil conversation.” König grips at Alejandro’s shirt, opening his mouth and being quickly cut off by a still present, but quickly leaving Ghost,” civil, König. Hands off.”

Y/N lets fear set in as the two stare each other down with no words to speak. König jerks his balled up fist away and huffs. It was only her that was to blame, and it was only her that could knock any sense in to the man that choked her out. 

“First of all, I’m sorry. Both of you. Alejandro, you’re great. And a… phenomenal kisser. But I’ll be honest and agree that tequila persuades us to do irrational things, especially if it means an excuse to leave a club and sleep in anything that’s not a cot. I’m sorry for even thinking of using you in that way, and hope this doesn’t affect our work together.” Y/N begins sheepishly, taking a moment before even daring to look at the other man in question,” and König, you’re my partner… my battle buddy. Protecting me applies to the field, not when I don’t need protecting. But like you said, we protect each other. So the fact you had the audacity to even THINK of choking me out has me questioning every thing about you.” Y/N cuts off, slightly baffled and even hurt König did it. Her eyes finally meet his, just to watch his head turn away,” if it meant protecting you, it was an action I was willing to take.”

“And how the HELL is knocking me unconscious even close to protecting me?” Y/N raises her voice, stalking closer to the brutish figure that still refused to look her way. Her questions were only met with tense silence and ongoing refusal to look her way.

“Answer me König or so help me,” she’s quickly cut off by Alejandro clamping a hand on her shoulder,” if this no longer involves me, I’ll take my leave. I appreciate the honesty at the least. No bitter feelings as I’d do the same.” 

With Alejandro’s final words, he exits through the slight gap König leaves for him, showing at least some gratuity and promising to lick his jealous wounds in private. He had someone more threatening in that moment about to sink her teeth in to him, whether it be verbally or physically… maybe he deserved it. With the two being the only ones left in the room, the atmosphere changes, anger washes over König and finally alone, he unleashes the pain and confusion of the night.

“You were trying to put yourself in the line of fire and out of protection, for what? Of course dealing with you being unconscious was better than holding your lifeless body, Scheisse Y/N!” König bites, leaning down so their faces were eye level with each other. 

“And in that action you stopped me from reaching my gun! I could’ve helped, instead of lying helpless on the floor for fucks sake! Why did you really do it?” Y/N rises on her tiptoes, trying to gain the upper hand and seem more dominant, but with every word exchanged she only felt smaller, shrinking at the thought of losing the thing that mattered most… the man that might as well be beat down and wounded standing right in front of her.

“Y/N, enough.” König warns, pique anger present at the calmness in his voice, only to be punched in the shoulder of an equally raged Y/N whose anger is shown in completely different ways,” no! I want answers, damnit! The one man I trust to protect me, leaves me lying defenseless on the floor and for what? To get back at me for kissing someone? I’m not your property! Fuck!” Y/N rambles, breath quickening as she punches König with deadly precision due to exceptional training in hand to hand combat. He braced for every blow, wincing every few good punches, but otherwise refusing to react. After a wind knocking gut punch, he grasps her hands in mid air. He quickly maneuvers them above her head, spinning them both around to pin her against the wall,” are you finished?”

“I still got my legs.” Y/N gruffly huffs out, already winded but still managing to kick at him with the same velocity as her punches. His grip causes forgotten glass to dig in to her palms, blood trickling down to her wrist and dripping down at a quickened rate thanks to her tantrum and quickened heart rate. König pins her legs down with his own, and wipes the blood trailing down her arm with his now discarded mask before lowering his hands to her wrists. 

“I was jealous. I’ll be the bigger person and admit that. But incapacitating you had NOTHING to do with it. That was your sheer drunken stupidity that caused that!” König barks back, heaving his chest as his anger is released through yelling. 

“Drunk? You’re being ridiculous right now! Even inebriated I can handle myself!” Y/N yells directly in his face, once again finding herself trying to break free from his hold. 

“But can you handle a gun? Can you handle the death of a teammate? Stop acting like a child before I put you in your place!” König practically foams at the mouth, both of their faces purple from arguing.

“Then do it! Put me in my place and stop being a pussy!” Y/N attempts to head butt his chest, resulting in König hoisting her up by her wrists with his single hand until they were eye level, both sets of eyes beaming red with hate. 

“Put you in your place? Fine.” König places a hand around her neck, for a second, fear instills itself square in Y/N’s chest. Before she could even gasp for air or react, his lips haphazardly crash in to hers, tongue penetrating her lips to slip in to her mouth aggressively. The hand that gripped her wrists slides to her waist, comforting Y/N’s back as his groin presses her against the wall. At first Y/N thought of pushing away with her newly freed hands, but lust out ruled anger and her fingers automatically entwine through his disheveled hair while her legs wrap around his waist, hands tugging and clawing at his head with every kiss. Her own tongue massages against his, exiting only to nibble at his bottom lip and drag it down.

“Thought you were going to put me in my place.” Y/N quips between kisses and strained breath. König squeezes her throat slightly, canines showing through his wicked grin,” and I am. If you want to scream at me, you can at least scream my name, Y/N.”

The seduction rolled off his tongue, and mixed with his accent, it sent a jolt of electricity down Y/N’s spine. He was only in this crazed state in moments of danger, and knowing he had no limits in this mood, Y/N genuinely feared just how far he’d go.

Königs hand slipped between the two, and under the slip of Y/N’s dress to massage perfect circles against her clothed and throbbing clit. A gasp escapes Y/N’s mouth, only to be hushed by König,” that’s not my name, Y/N.”

His hand squeezes tighter, hips grinding against her in the same rhythm as his fingers, pushing them deeper in to the wall while his lips trail down to her neck to leave purple welts just above her breasts. 

“K-König…” Y/N trails off with a slight moan, returned with a hum of approval. König removes the hand around her throat briefly to hike her dress up, giving another squeeze as he settles it back around her throat. His lips return to hers as he moves his lower hand to her ass, keeping her balanced against his waist and moving to the table, lowering Y/N against the cool metal. Y/N pulls at his hair once again, guiding it down lower. He presses a pressured kiss against her soaked panties, tilting his head side to side to tease her throbbing cunt. 

“Tell me who you really wanted pinning you against that club wall Y/N.” König mumbles against her, accentuating every word so it vibrated deep in to her core.

“Y-you, König. I only want you.” Y/N moans out, causing one of his hands to press against her entrance as he smiled, teeth brushing against her panties,” tell me you were just using him.”

“I was!” She clips out.

“You were what?” König questions, nuzzling his face in deeper, tongue now tracing circles opposite of his finger.

“I was just using him t-to leave the club! Fuck, König!” Y/N chokes against the saliva rapidly flushing to her mouth in anticipation of release. König growls deeply with satisfaction, but quickly growing impatient with the barrier that separated them.

“Fuck indeed.” He huffs, sharply inhaling a breath of air and pushing her panties out of the way, tongue immediately massaging Y/N’s clit and fingers instantly soaked upon entering her dripping cunt. Y/N can only recoil at the overstimulation, body tensing and relaxing at every push, pull… and curl of his fingers. 

“König, I’m going to-“ Y/N is revoked of ecstasy as his hand withdraws from her, tongue slowing to a soft lap that slows further in to lazy kisses.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You wanted to be put in your place, you can start by learning that I’m in charge in this moment. You are going to lay here and obey every word I say, and do what I ask. Are we clear?” König growls lowly, gently massaging at his hardening erection and stripping to his boxers. 

“And if I say no?” She questions lustfully, posturing up to her elbows for a better view.

“Then I guess I’ll have to fuck you until all you can say is yes, or even better, not talk at all.” König smirks, pulling his fully hardened cock out but refusing to move until Y/N becomes antsy,” kiss it.”

She raises an eyebrow, considering on refusing but ultimately follows his order. Leaning from the table, she places a kiss directly on his leaking tip, then moves lower while leaving a trail of kisses to his shaft. Upon making her way back to the tip, she attempts to wrap her lips around, only to be stopped.

“Turn around Y/N.” He unleashes another command, and Y/N obliges, leaning against the cool metal of the table and baring her ass to him.

A daft smack against her ass rings out in the room, receiving a light whimper from Y/N.

“I guess you can follow orders.” König chuckles, Dick pressed directly at her entrance but refusing to push past the barrier. Y/N attempts to push against him, receiving another smack before König harshly rams in to her and hits her wall roughly. She winces at the quick change, trying her best to adjust before he slides out once again, quickly ramming back in. This time, a clipped scream bubbles from Y/N’s throat at the pleasurable pain of taking his length. His hands find steadiness at the back of her head, pulling back roughly from the roots of her hair with every thrust. 

“K-König! Please!” Y/N gasps out in a moan, receiving a guttural growl,” K-König! please, what?”

His mocking of her causes Y/N’s eyes to roll to the back of her head as another moan racks her body. 

“Please, let me cum!” She winces, ecstasy becoming pain as it knots in her stomach.

“Do you think you’ve been put in your place?” He barks in question.

“Y-yes!” Y/N whimpers in a pathetic answer.

“Are you going to call me a pussy again, Y/N?” König replies with a tinge of anger, quickening his pace and hitting even deeper.

“No!” She sputters out, receiving another smack against her already reddening ass,” don’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ll choke you out again if I have to.”

His hand snakes away from her hair, trailing down to her throat and locking tightly to emphasize his threat. The world vibrates in and out of focus, black splotches forming in Y/N’s vision as she screams, the heaviest orgasm tearing through her,” I-I’m not! I’m c-cu-“ 

Another vicious moan rips at her throat before she can even finish, the feeling of relief so strong it makes her nauseous, but König only quickens his pace and prolongs the ache in her core. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Are your words bigger than your actions? Bit off more than you could chew?” His words become strained, showing his own bluff as the rest of his movements become sloppy and even more erratic. 

“Seems like you’re all talk too, big guy.” Y/N pushes at him, a laugh quickly dying off as his strokes become vicious once again.  

“You ever, even look at someone again the way you did Alejandro, you’ll only be able to think of me fucking you to a senseless pulp.” König growls in finality, giving a final heave before pulling out and slamming his back against the table next to her after finishing. Between gasps for air, Y/N turns to look at the disheveled man beside her who was particularly entertained by the ceiling. His hooded eyes drag slowly to her own, toothy smirk quickly following,” if that didn’t put you in your place, maybe water boarding will do the trick.”

“König, no!” Y/N smack his chest lightly, taking the time to slide her dress back in to place and grab his hand to examine every cut and scar that molded intricately in to him. 

“Don’t pay too close attention to what defines a monster dear Y/N.” He grumbles, pulling his hand away to rest it on his still heaving chest. She only threads her fingers in to his tightly before replying,” if you’re a monster, I’m only worse. Because I’m dumb enough to believe we could ever find love in each other. You’re too good for me, König.”

“Or we’re too horrible for each other. Like gasoline and an unruly fire.” He corrects her, circling his large thumb in the crook of her palm. 

“So what do we do?” Y/N ponders, draping her leg over his torso and curling in to him.

“I suppose we become a blazing fire, burning hot and unruly. It’s hard to control a fire, and I was always told sometimes it’s good to just let it burn.” He answers, pulling Y/N on top of him and cradling her in his arms so tightly in fear that if he let her go, she’d never return. Her resting head rises to meet his eyes once again,” then we’ll burn together.”

[milks-thoughts]

Rottmnt x human sister reader, splinter decides she should go to a human high school so she could be around her own kind and learn more. And the bros are all pretty protective over this and are worried about her being in human school.

I’m trying out a new header style! Tell me if you enjoy it or if I should go back to the color strips!

Summary: Reader goes to school, hell ensues

TW: vomiting, a nasty panic attack in a public space, talk of animals insides

Notes: anyone mentioned in this that isn’t from Rise is an oc of mine! Please don’t use them in any works without explicit permission

Study Sessions

You stared at your father as he called a family meeting, usually, these go horribly wrong. Especially as of recently, when your father decided that you, the youngest and the only girl (other than your older sister, April) should go to school…and not the school Donnie and (as of recent) Draxum have been teaching. No, human school. A human high school. You sat down at the table and hugged your knees to your chest, Donnie leaning on the wall, Raph and Leo sitting in the chairs and Mikey sitting on the counter. Splinter smiled but before he could speak Red spoke “ Pops- if this is about school I’m sure Donnie could teach her about algebra and..whatever else human kids learn! “ Donnie snarked “ I could teach her rocket science! “ Splinter nodded “ I’m sure you could purple but, she needs to be with other humans, learn to socialize “ you looked away as he slid papers on the table “ April’s parents did me a favor and enrolled her with Casey Jr! “ you felt doom and anxieties cloud your chest, you took the papers and read it, the papers were illegal documents that Donnie made…you read through each line before getting your schedule. How fun. It was seven classes a day with each class being an essential skill…apparently. What I’m the actual fuck is Home Ec.

The next few weeks came quicker than anticipated. Donnie made you and Casey matching bracelets, they were emergency bracelets (ignoring that your ninpō could just…tell them if something was wrong). And of course they were genius tech! He was making an empire after all! You did clothes shopping with April and also learned how to be socially acceptable with not only April's help, but also Sunita…and finally, the dreaded day. You and Casey stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at the high school, it was bustling, a few interesting faces but mostly everyone already knew each other. There was a larger group, of about seven people. You noted how one had a pretty sapphire necklace and a prosthetic arm that was so fluid it rivaled Donnie’s own he made for Leo. You gave Casey a hopeful smile and walked into the high school, you were immediately overstimulated. Going from a rather empty sewer to a high school was anxiety filling. A blonde haired girl bumped into you, when you turned to apologize for being in her way she immediately apologized. She was probably 5 '6 with sea green eyes and blonde hair “ my names Nyssa, you two seem a bit lost- do you need some help? “ Casey immediately nodded, Nyssa smiled and held out her hand “ oh right! They/Them! "Oops. You smiled and spoke your name, Casey following your lead. Nyssa led you two to your first class “ Your schedules are exactly the same, I didn’t know they could do that. You may get separated when testing comes up, you could be boosted into honors or lowered to just skills class “ Nyssa stopped at the first door. How amazing, math at 8 AM.

When the class finished you saw the white haired boy meet up with a brown haired girl with a tiger eye brooch. All the jewelry you’ve been seeing was very similar to Sunitas cloaking device, the brown haired girl seemed to be a senior based on how old she looked and sounded. You smiled and led Casey to your other classroom. Science.. how lovely, you knew you’d get this fine. Casey had a bit less of knowledge than you, they didn’t exactly have a need for schooling in the apocalypse. While you…well your brain has been nurtured by your older brother since the both of your youth. You could speak four different languages fluently, you could do some math that college students learn, you could do most things. Your biggest problem? American history. You learned Japanese history, your father telling you myths and legends that he learned. And you knew a bit of history from China. A sudden electrical feeling ran through you and Casey, it was simply a blue warmth, less like a fire or a sun and more like an electric heat. You were more than happy to welcome it into your ninpō, walking with it through your science class. It was simple biology, you slept through most of it with Casey and answered any questions sent your way. It left soon after second period and left you alone during third.

Then it was time for your language class…you spoke flawlessly, holding a full conversation with the teacher in Spanish before halfway switching to Japanese to see if the teacher could too. He couldn’t. Casey suddenly spoke up next to you and you turned, the two of you happily chattering in Japanese, sometimes clicking at each other before you realized that was weird, so you continued in Japanese. Yes, both you and Casey are fluent in the “ turtle language “ but shhh that doesn’t matter. Language class moved quickly and then off to fourth. You met Nyssa again, they said hello as you sat down next to Casey in biology. It was announced that you’ll be dissecting something. When you questioned what the teacher smiled “ oh! we’ll be dissecting something super exciting tomorrow, a red eared slider! “ you felt queasy. Quickly shooting up your hand to ask for the restroom, you sped off and found yourself emptying your stomach in the school hallway, a trash can in your hold, your ninpō going crazy and altering not only all of your brothers of your panicking but also a feeling…someone who was spewing mystic energy somewhere in this school, and no, it wasn’t Draxum. His mystic powers felt a certain…way. It wasn’t long before Casey found you and rubbed your back. The feeling of Raphs sturdy ninpō wrapping around your panicking one helped calm you down. You breathed and wiped your mouth with a sanitary wipe Donnie was demanding you keep with you. Slowly you and Casey went back to class, you still looked clammy and jumpy as you sat down and looked anywhere but the board that was a display of snapping turtles insides, Casey was holding it together, but barely. Like an overstuffed suitcase. The bell soon rang after that.

You made your way to lunch where you spoke to Draxum a bit and then was swept away by Nyssa. Brought to a table with the same few interesting people you’ve seen that day. When you really got closer to them, most of the jewelry was spewing mystic energy…cloaking devices. The brown haired senior was named Bellezza, there was a tan girl with short curly hair and a seal coat named Öskra, a blonde senior with blue eyes named River, she had a opal gemstone in a choker on her neck. A brown haired girl named Ésme who shared a ruby ring with the white haired boy (whom you learned was named Mason) and was the only one who didn’t buzz with mystic energy. And the last person, a black haired boy with burgundy eyes named Alexander, he had a garnet bracelet on. They all seemed to be able to pick up on your free flowing ninpō, and how it was prickling from previous panic. You were stuck close to Casey as you rested through lunch, your ninpō reaching and searching for two in particular. One that kind of felt like Mc Donald’s sprite and the electrical warmth. They both responded immediately, their ninpōs like two cats curling around a scared kitten. Your ninpō is the metaphorical kitten.

You didn’t eat lunch that day, moving into fifth period, ELA. The teacher gave you a free period and you simply slept. Your lashes attached to your cheek before you woke up with a startled noise, your eyes wide before looking up. There was your purple clad brother, staring at you as you looked at the ceiling tiles. You glared at him, before looking around and getting yourself into the roof quickly “ what are you doing here?! “ you hissed “ I’m just seeing how my dear sister is doing! and if this school is really better than my teachings! '' you sighed “ it’s super easy right now- “ Donnie laughed “ of course it is! He said confidently “ you smiled at your brother and sighed “ How’s everyone holding up at home? '' Donnie hummed “ Nardo has been fighting Raph to not just portal in this school and hunt you down. I didn’t let him come! “ you stared at him dead panned “ and you can? '' Donnie stared and then slowly backed away into the shadows of the dusty air vent. You dropped down quietly after that and slipped back into your seat, knocking dust off yourself. The bell rang again…god you were tired of that damn bell. Time for sixth period.

Next was a world history class. The teacher had turtles as a class pet, you were immediately drawn to them. Casey watched as you quietly chirped and rumbled at them. The turtles craning their heads closer to you as you made noises at them, their quiet voices responding. You quickly scampered to your seat, far away from Casey. Squished between two boys that made your ninpō scream and demand you return to Casey’s side, anxieties pulling your brain into mush. The teacher put on a video about ancient Egyptian mythology. Stuff you already knew. Your eyes grew heavy as you fell asleep, halfway through your rest the sound of a large bang startled you awake.

You whipped back with a noise and fell out of your chair. Backing up a bit, you didn’t see a classroom. You saw the tunnels, kraang infested as they chased you and your brothers. Raph missing. That was your whole mission, to retrieve your oldest brother. Leo and Casey Jr got separated. Mikey and Donnie hid in the tank. Leaving you, to get stolen away. You fumbled and looked around for something, anything to fight the kraang. Someone grabbed your arm and you started hitting it, the arm didn’t relent, it was softly pulling you away from the tunnel. The whole…incident… was traumatic for you. any really, everyone. You, Casey, Raph, and Leo got the nastiest of the flashbacks. The yokai therapist that the family got said they were classified as panic attacks. Even as the soft arms pushed you to the floor you continued hitting and thrashing, pausing when the feeling of something wrapping around your ninpō entered your brain. Your body is basically shocked to real life. Casey was holding you by your arms, you had hot tears running down your face and hurt vocal cords. You stared at him and blinked before letting out a quiet sob and leaning forward, him just holding you throughout the entirety of sixth period.

You guys didn’t go to seventh period. You just sat in the corner of a hallway and breathed, at some point the same blonde senior, River, came and sat down with you two. And after that? Mason, the albino boy, and Bellezza the senior with auburn hair joined her. They were all siblings, Casey theorized that they were wolf yokai based on how they flocked like a pack. Seventh period ended quickly, when April came to get you guys she immediately noticed the tense mood from you two, walking back to the sewers…she could only wonder how the brothers would react. When the three of you walked in, Raph was the first to notice you being back, he looked at your and Casey’s sour faces and lowered his snout so it rested on your head and hugged you, chuffing hard enough your entire body vibrated. You made small similar noises, but they were weak and halfhearted. Raph was so worried about what happened to you at school. Leo and Donnie soon returned to the main area and joined the upwards cuddle session, Casey and April being pulled into it as they all wrapped around Raph to feel his churrs, Mikey soon attaching to Raphs shells and starting to chur as well, you forgot how amazing it felt to be held like this. You took off your cloaking device and the scars that were hidden from the public eye became known. Oh how much they wanted to ask about school, why your ninpō wailed in pain, why your chirps that normally sounded so nice were half hearted and deflated

[ravensliterature]

Happy Nightmares

A/N: I apologize for the delay! I am fulfilling requests right now and I thank you for your patience! pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Reader warnings: Fluff, drepression, social anxiety, blood, violence w/c: 2494 Request: @imtrying26 Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Sebastian Michaelis x reader who he met in a mission with ciel and became a maid. I wanted to have Sebastian take care of the reader who is depressed and has social anxiety, just a lot of fluff in general, long hugs, and soft kisses. I also think it would really cute if Sebastian has a bit of separation anxiety and would carry the reader around the manor(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~. Also height difference cuz I think it's cute and because I'm like 4'9(148cm)

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The first time you had met him, he had been an angel. It was ironic knowing what you know now. He made you feel safe and happy in his company, emitting a calming aura that comforted you. You never thought an actual demon could make you feel this way. You noticed how he looked out for you, ensuring everyone knew not to get in your way. He would protect you from harm at all costs, even if it meant putting himself in danger. It warmed your heart to know someone so devoted to you.

You first met Sebastian and Ciel on a mission to take down the person at the root of a series of serial murders. The root cause was a corrupted angel that had gone rogue. However, you were also tracking this angel, trying to find the source of the murders after your father was a victim. You knew your father's business was not always legitimate, but you never knew the extent of the people he worked with. You were investigating a lead and needed a place to stay while you looked into this case, so you decided to stay at a hotel in town. Meanwhile, the angel was realizing your movements.

You had a deep gash on your thigh, your cheek was cut, and your arm was broken, with your clothes ripped beyond repair. You looked horrible, with bruises and cuts on your arms and legs. Your body felt heavy as you embraced the feeling of the hotel floor. The angel above you stared with a devious smile and said, "Well, well, well, look whom we've found. You have done fine work tracking me down." You didn't respond; you couldn't respond, your lips were numb, and your head was dizzy with pain. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of an answer either. They seemed to be enjoying the moment though. "But you see, dear (Y/n), you have committed a great sin. Just like your father. How could I permit you to live?" His smile grew wide and sinister as he took out a knife. You whimpered silently. Your fear only fueled their amusement.

That's when he appeared. "Please, it is very unseemly to hurt a lady." You looked up and saw him, tall and strong. You were shocked to see him there, but you were even more surprised by how gentle his tone was. The man stood to your right in a full butler uniform. Behind him was another man, shorter and dressed in a much more elegant fashion, similar to that of a lord. "Sebastian, I take it this is the angel we discussed," said the shorter man who appeared to be a boy. "Yes, My Lord," the tall man responded and then turned his attention to you.

"I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but your injuries are quite severe. We should tend to them quickly before they become too dangerous or worse." He looked into your eyes, "It will be all right, my lady." He smiled gently at you. Your eyes widened as you felt yourself begin to fade.

-- You awoke to see the tall man sitting next to you on your bed, his face primarily expressionless with a hint of worry. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes slightly glistening in concern. You nodded, still feeling weak. "I'm fine. Are you okay?" you asked. "I'm fine, my dear. My name is Sebastian, the butler of the Phantomhive Manor." You nodded again and shifted slightly in the bed. "Where are we?" you finally asked. Sebastian looked up at the ceiling "We are currently located in the manor, My Lady. My master and I brought you here after the fight with the angel. You nodded and tried to sit up. Sebastian stopped you. "Allow me, please, My Lady." He offered his hand to help pull you upright. Once you were seated comfortably, he continued. "I apologize that we did not come sooner, but it looks like your injuries are doing much better." You smiled softly, "Thank you. What happened?" you questioned. "My master and I ensured the angel will not be harming anyone anytime soon," he responded. Your face fell. "I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have had to rescue me," you whispered. Sebastian reached forward and squeezed your shoulder softly. You smiled softly at him. Sebastian then let go and stood up. "We are glad that you were able to survive, but because we saved your life, that means you owe us a debt. My master would like to enlist you as a new maid. You froze. This was not part of your plans. He seemed to notice how shocked you were. "Please, consider it. My master would like to start your training immediately."

It was now seven months since you accepted the offer of becoming a Phantomhive maid. Sebastian and Ciel were kind enough to allow you to remain in their manor without supervision. Also, your knowledge about the existence of angels allowed them to be honest right away about Sebastian being a demon and Ciel's contract. Your time there hadn't been without adjustment, and you were still reeling from the events before your current position. You were having nightmares every night, but you managed to make it appear like you had things under control. Some days were harder than others, but you felt as if things were getting better. Even if some nights you dreamed about your father or about the day your father died, you never told anyone about any of it. It didn't seem worth the trouble. So you kept your mouth shut and hid it away as best as you could.

Yesterday, however, your dreams changed. They weren't about your father anymore. Instead, they were about Sebastian. But why? Why were you dreaming of Sebastian? In your dreams, the death of your father began to become replaced with Sebastian dying in your arms. You were crying. Screaming. Crying out his name over and over until you woke with a start in the dark room. You had cried yourself hoarse last night, unable to sleep due to your nightmares. You had tossed and turned in your bed, thinking about Sebastian, and the dream had plagued you. Your screams must have caught someone's attention because there was a knock at your door. "What is it? Is everything all right?" came Sebastian's voice. You cleared your throat and replied with a shaky voice, "I'm fine." Sebastian opened your door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. You sat up in bed. "Can I come closer?" You blinked in surprise but moved to the side of your bed. He came to sit beside you and gently laid a hand on yours. "Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked softly. You shook your head no and looked into his eyes. "I can tell that something isn't all right." You sighed and nodded, "I'm afraid that my nightmares might have started to follow me." He shook his head at you, his face stern. "It is more than that. You aren't talking with others like you used to. You aren't eating as much, getting little sleep, you constantly seem plagued by thoughts…" His voice trailed off, searching for the words to describe what you were going through. Your eyes grew tearful, remembering the nightmare you had just moments ago. He must have seen it. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Sebastian." He frowned. "No, My Lady, please forgive me. I should have realized something was wrong with you." He sighed softly. He pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his head on yours. You leaned against him and closed your eyes. Sebastian held you tightly as you cried silently. He didn't ask questions as you cried; instead, he just soothingly stroked your hair and let you release your tears. When you eventually calmed yourself, you removed yourself from his grasp and wiped your face and nose. "I am sorry you had to see such a pitiful display." He smiled sadly at you. "Don't apologize. You were in terrible pain and needed the release. Besides, I have learned that it is important for humans to share their suffering. It helps to heal oneself as well."

"If I may ask, what was your dream about?" You shrugged your shoulders. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to burden you with my problems. Please, don't fake your affection for me. I know you simply see me as a maid." He sighed and got out of bed. He walked towards the door, leaving you to your sleep. "It wasn't a burden. This demon cares more than you know."

-- Your dreams and thoughts had gotten worse. You were struggling to keep yours. You were trying to pretend you weren't hurting so badly, yet Sebastian noticed. You knew that he knew something was wrong, and he had decided to be there for you. You appreciated his efforts, but you wished he wouldn't put himself through all this. Still, he did it anyway, and you loved him for that, not that he felt the same. He was a demon, after all. This all came to a head on the night of a ball. You were never big on crowds, to begin with, and suffered from social anxiety. However, you knew your master needed this for a case, so there wasn't much you could do about it. Unfortunately, that evening was one of the most stressful nights of your life. Everyone from the Phantomhive manor was so busy with their duties that you were left alone most of the time within the sea of people. You often watched them dance and interact with each other while wishing you could disappear. The worst part was how the young men stared at you and spoke to you like they always did. They flirted with you. Sometimes you would feel like throwing something at them.

While making your way through the crowd, the air in your lungs slowly started to dissipate, and your heart began racing. Your breaths became shallow, and your body shivered uncontrollably. Something wasn't right. Your mind was telling you that something was very wrong, but you couldn't make out what it was. A voice sounded in your ear, and you turned your head to look at whomever it was. There stood the tall gentleman. "Hello, My Lady." Your eyes widened. "Sebastian." You said hesitantly. He stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your back. "May I escort you somewhere so you can take time to unwind?" he asked you. You looked down. "Yes, thank you," You answered, not even attempting to mask the emotion in your voice. His smile dropped as he led you to an empty hallway. "What is going on, My Lady?" he asked you. "I don't know," you lied. You glanced nervously at him as tears sprung to your eyes, and the shaking in your body got worse. You could barely breathe. Your vision was blurry, and you could barely hear him speaking to you.

You collapsed to the ground, clutching your chest as you hyperventilated. You felt hands on you, and suddenly Sebastian was sitting next to you. "My Lady, please calm down. Just try to breathe for me. Can you do that?" His face was filled with worry, and you could feel hot tears dripping from your eyes. You gasped for air, feeling a tightness in your chest. "Breathe, My Lady. I believe you are getting worked up again. Breathe." You took a deep breath and felt yourself relaxing slightly but remained curled up on the floor. "Now, follow my instructions." He asked quietly. You closed your eyes and tried your hardest to focus. "Breathe in, hold for three seconds, hold for seven seconds and exhale slowly." You felt Sebastian's hand rubbing your back gently, and you finally opened your eyes. Tears continued to escape your eyes, and he wiped them away. "Thank you," you whispered. He smiled softly at you and helped you stand up. "Let's go find some tea and a blanket." You nodded and followed him through the corridors. Eventually, you reached the library, where the two of you spent many late evenings reading. You were both quiet as you settled on the couch near the fire and began pouring yourselves cups of tea.

"You gave me quite a scare," Sebastian said after a moment of silence. You looked up at him, confused. He seemed rather serious. He looked worried now too. "You think that I don't hear you? Yelling my name in the night in the fear of your nightmares? I fear for you," he stated. You hesitated slightly, knowing full well what he meant. "Please, don't think I don't love you. Demons love but rarely. You may not love me, but I love you and I want to help you. To understand." He grabbed your hand. "Tell me everything that happened. Let me help you."

So you told him everything. From your dream to everything you had ever experienced. He listened carefully, taking in every word you spoke. When you finished, he took your hands into his. "My Lady, you are truly beautiful. I've known that for some time now. But you are also strong, smart, and kind, and I will protect you whenever you need it. And, I will never leave your side when I can help it. I promise." He kissed your knuckles softly, and you melted, leaning forward and kissing him sweetly. "I believe you," you whispered. He kissed you softly, pulling away and smiling. "I love you, My Lady. More than anything. You deserve nothing less." Your eyes went wide, a blush rising onto your cheeks. You looked away shyly before returning your gaze to his. "I love you too, Sebastian."

--

Sebastian kept a careful watch on you, sometimes even carrying you around the manor, ensuring your happiness and the sounds of your giggles running through the halls. It didn't take long for everyone to know you two were together, although they were happy for you. It was almost as though they knew you two had been together already since the first meeting. After all, Baldroy had said that you would have made a lovely couple, and it was funny because it towered over you Sebastian thought that maybe it was his imagination or something, but when you were around, he could hardly get enough of you. You were different from all the other women he'd met. You weren't like anyone else. You were special. Especially since you were one hell of a maid.

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[silentwillowwhisperer]

*sparkle*

Hi, yep, I'm alive (maybe.)

Here we have cute flower shop Lance and Keith who is very bad at peopleing.

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

Keith slams the door of the nearest shop open and dashes inside. He bends over and grips his knees, panting. His drenched clothes are making a large puddle at his feet.

"Um... Can I help you?"

Keith looks up and surveys his surroundings. There are various plants of all shapes and sizes on every available surface, and brightly colored flowers pierce Keith's vision. His eyes trail all the way to the far end of the room until they meet iridescent blue.

"Are you ok? You look like you've been running from a herd of angry purple alien cats armed with guns."

Keith has to snort at that. It sounds like the plot of a cartoon made for 7-year-olds. (Which is exactly the sort of thing he likes to watch, but can we just let him pretend to be cool?)

The guy has golden brown skin and a splash of freckles across his cheeks. He has a couple inches on Keith and broad shoulders. The corner of his mouth is quirked up into a little smile, and oh my goodness, Keith really hopes that this guy is at least a little bit gay. (That would definitely make his day go from 'horrible freaking disaster' to 'wonderful freaking disaster.)

This is Shiro's fault. It's that dumb, skunk-haired jerk's fault that Keith is standing sopping wet and making eye contact with an unbelievably cute guy in the middle of a flower shop.

Keith had been sleeping peacefully when Shiro called him at 3am (you read that right, Shiro is a monster) to remind him to take medication. Keith could appreciate this gesture when it wasn't the witching hour, but it was and then Keith was awake, and yeah he hid take the medicine, and because insomnia exists, Keith gave up on sleep and decided to go for a very early run.

Keith can't be blamed for forgetting to check the weather forecast, it was early and he couldn't think about anything but coffee.

And that's why Keith decided to walk the 5 miles from his shack in the middle of nowhere to the nearest town to find a Starbucks.

And that's also why he had to run the last 3 miles because the sky opened up and god decided to have a good cry all over Keith and his favorite sweatshirt.

Yep, completely, 100% Shiro's fault.

Wait. Keith has been staring at the flower boy for too long hasn't he? He can tell from the furrow in his perfectly shaped eyebrows that Keith is not following social conduct right now.

"Right. Sorry. Raining. Water. It's wet." Keith is forcing out words and desperately hoping something he says actually makes sense.

The cute guy laughs. (hallelujah!) "Yes, I can see that. Would you like a towel?" All Keith can do is nod stupidly, terrified of saying something else and having Shimmery-Eye-Dude realize that Keith is about to pass out from social anxiety.

He walks up to the cash register to accept the towel being held out to him. As soon as he does, Dreamy Man smirks and leans up against the counter so that his wonderful face is only inches away from Keith's.

Is it safe to assume that Mr. Ocean Eyes is into guys?

Is this a thing that platonic male companions do when greeting each other??

Is Keith being initiated as a 'bro???'

Why is Keith allowed to leave home on his own???? He should never be allowed into a public area without someone to supervise him!

"I-I- um... h-hi?" Oh look, Keith's stutter is here to say hello.

Tall-Mocha-and-Handsome barks out a laugh. (Wow, Keith would really love a cup of coffee right now.) "Hi there. You come here often?"

Wait. Wait! Keith knows this! Shiro explained this to him last week! Flirting! Keith might have a chance after all!

"I- I've never been here inside of this place and if you mean have I been in front of your face before, no I don't think so because your eyes are kind of sparkling very loudly right now and I don't think I would have forgotten that even though I'm face bland and who are you because you might be flirting with me right now and I really hope so because your face is pretty and hi I'm Keith I'm gay."

Keith has to gasp in a breath of air after the word mush that just erupted from his traitorous face hole. Flirty-Person stares at his face in shock as he tries to process the words that have been shoved at him.

After what feels like an eternity, Please-Marry-Keith's mouth returns to its position in a crooked half-smile and his brow furrows slightly. Keith can't tell if this face means confused pity/teasing or endearment.

"O...k then. You're blunt, aren't you?"

Keith has used up his capacity for language-speaking, so all he can do is flush bright red and try to hide his face in the hood of his sweatshirt.

"Welp, I can work with that. Keith, is it? I'm glad you're not homophobic, you we're staring at me so long that I was worried that you were about to start spouting some nonsense about crimes to humanity. I'm Lance, and are you from outer space? Because your body is out of this world!"

Stop. No. There is no way that Lance (yay, finally, a name! Keith was about to start calling him Sokka.) is a dork. Because Keith's weak heart will actually die. Oop, too late, he's already dead. Deceased. He has officially kicked. the. bucket.

He can't help but dissolve in to giggles. He so caught of guard by the pick-up line that he has to brace himself against the counter to keep from collapsing onto the ground. He rests his forehead on the smooth marble surface and desperately tries to stop choking on his laughter.

"Awww, what? That was my best line!" Keith looks up at Lance's face to see him smiling fondly at him. At least he hopes that's what it is. It there still a chance that Lance is fake smiling to hide the fact that he's calling the police?

Keith finds himself smiling back.

(Two days later they have their first date at the park, Lance prepares a giant picnic and Keith has never been more excited.)

(Shiro never lets Keith hear the end of this.)

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

I think that was an acceptable ending. Alright, now no one wake me up until I've had at least 10 hours of sleep or I might cry. (That means you @gavemebluethenpurplepinkskies, are you happy now?)

[ari-kari]

long personal ramble below 👇👇👇👇

fuck it I am just going to go make friends!!!

i have been in a state of chronic and debilitating loneliness for most of my young adulthood. realistically, much longer. and there are so many obstacles to social interaction in my path that i’ve been stubbornly clinging to since i was a teenager. i have severe anxiety and depression. i hate small talk. i get triggered every time i take the bus - or do anything else. the traumas i have experienced in my life make it really difficult for me to connect with others in a meaningful and lasting way.

but i am done caring about that bitch!!! i am going to do what every therapist on the planet has been begging me to do for years now and just start going to one of those stupid lesbian book clubs on meetup. and it will be horrible. i will probably feel really isolated and unfulfilled at first, and the commute will drain my soul, and i will almost certainly be the only person at the function having a full-blown out-of-body experience and/or contemplating imminent death.

but you know what? at the end of the day…that shit literally doesn’t matter. bc if I keep sitting here on my intimacy-starved ass hoping the connection I’m searching for will drop out of the fucking sky, i simply will not survive the winter. i’m too mentally ill to take that kind of risk with my own stability, and even if I wasn’t, I have zero desire to remain in a state of perpetual misery and desperation anyways.

would it be great if some some sort of ao3-found-family-meetcute scenario smacked me directly in the face like a hyperrealistic dildo? sure. but the odds of that happening are probably close to zero. so as much as hate it, I’m gonna have to accept that my social needs will simply ~not be met~ until I actually go put the boring, unflattering legwork in to fulfill them.

anyways….thoughts and prayers for me, i guess. i wish this country’s social support systems were less idiotically structured, and i wish caring and being cared for didn’t feel like such a drastic survival need for me right now - because, truly, it is PROFOUNDLY unsexy. but thems the grapes. so I just gotta do the damn thing and hope something good comes out of it in the end.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Three (Part 3)

When Marnie takes me back to the booth, there are even more people there than before. A crowd of hipsters have joined us, all looking like members of Vampire Weekend, and I scoot in next to one of them; a mousy haired boy with glasses called Stephen, who asks me what I want to drink, and then has no issue with ordering one of the lewdly named cocktails for me. 

“So you’re also an artist?” He wants to know. 

“Yeah I’m doing art and design. Hoping to get a bachelors in Illustration.”

“Illustration like books?”

“Yeah kinda. Sometimes.” My drink arrives with a flourish, the waiter making a big show of presenting it to me by lifting a glass dome from the top of it, letting a cloud of dry ice waft onto the table. It’s all very over dramatic and frankly embarrassing, and everyone makes noises like they’re dead impressed, but I just snatch it up and take a mouthful. I’m still feeling so rattled from seeing Jen that even my eyes are having a hard time focusing. 

Stephen is talking about the illustrations in some book from his childhood, but as he’s talking to me I kind of zone out and chew on the end of my straw, trying to decide whether or not there’s actually something wrong with me. I make a mental note to anxiety-google my symptoms later, wondering whether a churning stomach and palpitating heart are normal responses to talking to someone you used to know. Jen and I can’t be friends again, I decide. Being around her would up my chances of colliding with Jude Turner tenfold, and I don’t think my body could physically handle the stress of that encounter. 

I realise Stephen is waiting for me to say something, and I shake myself back to life. “What?”

“Oh, sorry, I know it’s loud in here. I was just asking what music you’ve been into lately.”

“Oh, like Sufjan Stevens.” I say immediately, surprising myself, “And I’m getting really into Alabama Shakes”

“You know Alabama Shakes?” He says, impressed, not knowing that I only said that because Shane left his iPod on the coffee table a few days before and when I scrolled through, theirs was one of the names that stuck in my memory. 

“Yes.” I say. “The sound is super unique. I’m drawn to the lyrics, actually I think I’ll try to get tickets to the next gig if they ever come to Dublin.” I sit back and take another drink, watching his face and wondering when on earth I became someone who could bullshit. I’m sure that someone who knew all about the who’s who of music would be able to see right through me, but Stephen doesn’t. He tells me that I seem like a pretty cool girl, and I smile, wishing it was true. 

He tells me that he’s in second year, studying social sciences in some small technology institute outside of town, and then we spend some time discussing that, and him, and where he lives and where he comes from, all things that kind of shape him into a person, rather than some hipster who buys me drinks. Stephen is nice, I decide, in an everyman kind of way. Nothing to get excited about, but there’s nothing especially off-putting about him, save his skinny jeans that are just a tiny bit too skinny. We share three drinks together, and then he asks me if i’ll go out to the smoking area, because he needs a cigarette. 

I’m usually not someone who smokes very much, and even when I do I try to limit it to just one, because I hate just about everything about it except for the social element of continuing the conversation outside with everyone else who’s smoking too. I never understood the appeal of the actual cigarettes though. Especially in a day and age where we know everything there is to know about the harm they do, the myriad of painful, excruciating ways that they’re killing us. Even now, after its ban indoors, the hikes in prices and the horrible, gruesome images on the sides of the packets, it feels like every single college student in this city has a cigarette between their lips as a fashion accessory. I’ve seen people put stickers over the warning labels, and even listened to them have in depth discussions about their favourite ones, Marnie was saying recently that hers is the picture of the man with the hole in his neck. 

I try very hard not to think about the man with the hole in his neck when Stephen is handing me my second cigarette of the night. He’s not smoking what Jen was smoking, and it’s much stronger and much more unpleasant, so much so that I have to stifle a wince while he tells me a story about the time he went to New York on a J1 visa. 

When I stand next to him and look up into his face, I think again about how alright he is. He’s friendly, he’s tall, his outfit is mostly nice, and now that I’ve had three strong cocktails and all of those awful, anxious feelings I had earlier have floated away with the breeze, I start thinking that maybe I could try out some light flirtation on him. 

“Have you got a girlfriend?” Is what comes spilling out of me though, and I wish I could stuff it right back into me. It must be the least graceful or subtle attempt at flirting there ever was. My face immediately burns up. 

“Um. No.” He says with bewilderment. I realise I have cut him off mid sentence. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” I’m so embarrassed of myself that I can’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Ehm. Well, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” I laugh too loudly and then cover up my mouth. 

When my eyes drift back to him, he’s giving me an amused smile. “Is it funny? Like, the idea of you having a boyfriend or something?”

“Maybe.” I say. “Kind of. Yes.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, like, I dunno I just don’t really have boyfriends.”

“You’re exploring your options.” He says with a conclusive nod, even though that’s not at all what it is. In fact, I’ve been doing whatever exactly the opposite of exploring my options is; Avoiding all romantic prospects. Wallowing in my room. Fleeing in terror from any and all single men who might want my phone number.

“That’s what college is for anyway.” He goes on. “Like, just seeing who’s available and having fun.” He gives me a suggestive little smile that makes my stomach coil nervously even through my tipsy haze, because he seems to think I’m the queen of sex now. 

“Yeah completely.” Is all I manage. 

“You have lovely eyes.” He says. “They’re a real emerald kind of colour.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, let me have a closer look at them.” He leans down until we’re eyeball to eyeball and he gazes right at me. I can see my own silhouette reflected in his glasses, and think that I look kind of messy, and not in a purposeful, Alexa Chung kind of way at all. More in a three-cocktails, two cigarettes and a resurfacing of a past trauma kind of way.  I smooth down my hair with sweaty palms. 

“You’re extremely pretty.” He tells me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He surges suddenly towards me and pecks me on the lips. It startles me and I jolt backwards. 

“Sorry.” He says with wide panicked eyes. 

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I was misreading the signals.”

“No it’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to be one of those weird men.”

“You’re not.” I feel tetchy for some reason. “You can just… you can do it if you want. You can kiss me, I don’t care.”

“That’s romantic.” He says, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Sorry, I just don’t know how to be.”

“It’s fine, we can um… we can just chill out if you want.”

I don’t know why he’s insisting on prolonging the awkwardness when it’s clear to me that neither of us is going to leave the smoking area until we kiss. 

“Kiss me, please.” I say flatly, and his mouth does that porny quirk again. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants.” He says in a voice that makes my hands clench, just as he comes at me and puts his mouth over mine. 

It’s a strange sensation, kissing another person after so much time, and I’ve completely forgotten what it felt like to do it. It’s more real than I remember it being, I’m more aware than I used to be of the way his tongue feels and the sounds our mouths are making. It’s a little bit visceral, but not totally unpleasant. Despite the strong taste of cigarettes on his breath, Stephen’s kissing is fine, there’s nothing wrong with it, but still, it makes me feel almost nothing inside. I hold onto the front of his jumper anyway and I kiss him back, because it feels like he’s helping me to sever the very last connection I have with Jude. He no longer gets to be the last boy who kissed me. Now it’s Stephen. Just plain old Stephen, the social studies student whose surname I don’t even know, and it’s like all in that moment I’m freed. 

“You’re pretty.” He tells me again, gently as he pulls away from me. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“I dunno.” I say vaguely. Men are obsessed with being the very first ones to tell women that they’re attractive, like it’s some gift that they are privileged to bestow upon us. We’re floundering, lost in the world, completely blind to ourselves until some man comes along and lets us know what he thinks about us. I can’t agree with him, say that I know, or I’ve heard it all before, because then he’ll think I’m up myself. It always feels like a trap. And besides, he’s not really saying it because he believes it, it’s just a device to get into my knickers. 

“What are you up to later on?” He wants to know.

“I suppose I’ll just go home.” I say, my heart jumping a little in my chest. 

“Where’s home?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I say, and he grins at me like he thinks I’m just being coy. “I would.” Maybe he really isn’t that bad looking at all. 

“If I tell you where I live then you might show up at my front door.”

“I might, who knows. And would you invite me in?”

I laugh awkwardly, feeling the vibe shifting rapidly into a realm I’m not comfortable with. “Probably not, no.”

“Ah, you art school girls, sure you’re always playing hard to get.”

“I like to stay mysterious.” I step away from him and make moves towards the door. “I’m pretty cold.” I tell him. “Maybe we can go back inside?” 

“Yeah, okay.” He stubs out the butt of the cigarette that he was holding onto the whole time, and we head through the doors. I’m just thinking about how maybe he’s not so bad, and maybe if we spent some time together I could get to like him, when the hot air from the bar hits his glasses and they immediately fog up, and the effect on me is so immediate that I almost have to flinch away from him. The sight of him with fogged up specs is so dorky that I’m instantly repulsed. I watch in horror as he takes them off and wipes them on his jumper. There’s nothing at all attractive about him. What was I thinking?

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I say robotically. “But I actually have to leave now.”

“Oh, right now?”

“Yeah. I didn’t realise how late it was, my housemate wanted me to come back and help her with something.” I start walking away immediately, the thought of his kissing me causing a shudder through my entire being.

“Wait, uh, can I have your phone number?”

“Um. I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“I don’t really give it out to people.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

“I’m just really not in the place for… this right now. It’s not personal.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” He doesn’t get it. He looks downtrodden, and I feel horrible, but I can’t stand there looking at him anymore, so I turn towards the cloakroom and try to collect my things. 

“Hang on.” He calls after me. “Will I ever see you again?” 

Does he think we’re in a romcom? That I’m the Meg Ryan to his Billy Crystal? I have to try really hard not to roll my eyes in front of him as I pass my token over to the cloakroom attendant, my breath shuddering. “No.” I say over my shoulder. “You probably won’t, sorry.” I don’t add the bit about how I was just using him to get over the memory of another person, because that’d make me the bad guy here. 

“Damn. Okay Ellie. Nice to meet you.”

“Right. See you.”

I pull my coat on and walk right out the door into the freezing cold night.

Prev // Next

[jesslovesboats]

It's the most wonderful time of the year- time for @terrortracks! I'll post my playlists here, along with covers and liner notes or at least a little bit of insight into why I chose these specific tracks.

First up is my playlist for Day 1- explorer of choice!

If you've been here longer than 5 minutes, you know that my favorite expedition is the Karluk, but my favorite guy is actually Joseph Stenhouse, of Ross Sea Party fame. I've never related to a polar guy more, and I project onto him in a way that is probably less than healthy. There's a reason he's the sun sign in my explorerscope.

ANYWAY, he is best known for getting the Aurora back to safety and for sinking u-boats with his bestie Frank Worsley during the war. Later in his life, though, he served as the captain of the Discovery during the Discovery Oceanographic Expeditions of 1925-1927! This was a bad time for everyone involved, as Stennie was fighting with the scientific team non-stop, witnessing absolutely horrific animal cruelty at the Grytviken whaling station, dealing with his own crippling anxiety, depression, and (probable) PTSD, and coming to the painful realization that the age of sail was over and the skills he dedicated his life to perfecting were no longer valuable or necessary. It was an impossibly hard pill to swallow.

This playlist features songs about feeling awkward, out of place, uncomfortable, sad, too old, and not enough. I'm sure none of you can relate to that- me neither!

1. ballad of a homeschooled girl- Olivia Rodrigo

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell, I told secrets I shouldn't tell I stumbled over all my words, I made it weird, I made it worse Each time I step outside, it's social suicide

2. Ashamed- Deer Tick

Murdered my throat, screaming bloody all night Hit him with a book and how he crumbles So, you should have seen how the arches tumble They're golden no more, now I'm smiling in my blood I'm caught in a whirlwind, I'm going to heaven I'm standing on trial and it's painted on canvas An eternal testament to how we are so animalistic

3. Crack Baby- Mitski

Crack baby, you don't know what you want But you know that you had it once And you know that you want it back Crack baby, you don't know what you want But you know that you're needing it And you know that you need it bad

4. Mariners Apartment Complex- Lana Del Ray

They mistook my kindness for weakness I fucked up, I know that, but Jesus Can't a girl just do the best she can? Catch a wave and take in the sweetness Think about it, the darkness, the deepness All the things that make me who I am

5. Calamity Song- The Decemberists

And you've receded into loam And they're picking at your bones Will call cold We'll come home

6. Bite The Hand- boygenius

Here's the best part distilled for you But you want what I can't give to you Your hands are gravity while my hands are tied

7. Ship To Wreck- Florence and the Machine

What's with the long face? Do you want more? Thousands of red-eyed mice, scratching at the door And don't let the curtain catch you, cause you've been here before The chair is an island, darling, you can't touch the floor

8. A Better Son/Daughter- Rilo Kiley

And sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on And your friends they sing along and they love you But the lows are so extreme, that the good seems fucking cheap And it teases you for weeks in its absence But you'll fight and you'll make it through You'll fake it if you have to And you'll show up for work with a smile You'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up And a better daughter or son And a real good friend

[suiana]

… I heard.. I could share thirsts on here.. Welp, that’s what I’m going to do :DD I have always had an Ongoing obsession with Yan! Stalker.. So woooo here we go

You found yourself in a library looking for a specific book, your hands rummaging through the spines of many books, thick and thin books, there were all types of topics but you still couldn’t find the right one.. “Maybe I should go ask a worker..” you muttered distressed, you really didn’t want to go ask anyone you had really bad social anxiety but you acknowledge that you actually Needed help, You kept walking with your eyes glued to the bookshelves hoping that you could maybe spot the cover, you turned a corner and hit somebody you squeaked in surprise slightly stumbling back, you looked up at an attractive man and started analyzing what he was wearing to identify if he worked here, he had a blue apron with a patch that had the Libraries logo and his name on a name tag but weirdly enough it was Blacked out, you thought he worked here because of the uniform, I started fidgeting with the edge of my shirt/skirt, “uhm.. do you work here?” You said nervously, He just nodded, “I need help finding *Title of book* here.. could you help me please?” the “worker” looked down at you clenching his thighs hoping you wouldn’t notice the small action, “follow me please..” He answered, You analyzed him, His hair was very nice and silky you really wanted to touch it.., He had a baggy shirt and some baggy pants too, you did notice that the apron was wrapping around his waist tightly and honestly you were jealous of how thin his waist was, you moved on to look at his hands, they had a few rings in them and if you squinted you could see some veins going up his arms, he wasn’t really tall but he was average height, you did notice he had some glasses on probably were just for the job, there was an awkward silence in the big library, so you decided to make some small talk, “your glasses are very nice..” you said uncomfortably, all this time he had butterfly’s in his stomach, he really wanted to just take you, he had been watching you for a long time, he took the job here not because of money but to just see you, “..thanks, your shirt is very cute too..” he said with a blush on his face, you were so cute.. the apron did a horrible job covering up the hard on, he tried not to move in irregular ways to not cause more friction in his pants, it was already hard enough to control himself.. His hands rummaged through the bin of books..”is this it?” He asked, your eyes widened in happiness “mhmm!” You were really happy he had found it you had been looking for it for a few days, “thank you!” You said happily “could you give me your name?” the man asked, “Oh, it’s Y/N” y/n, y/n y/n.. he already knew it but he couldn’t get enough of hearing it, “thank you!” You started walking away, you had no idea that you just met your stalker and that he was going to be your downfall, he started sprinting to the bathroom to relive himself luckily it didn’t seem that you noticed “it”, he locked the door so nobody would get in, he unbuttoned his pants and grabbed his shirt with his mouth, his erection sprung out his pants red and leaking, he softly moaned, he wrapped his hand around his warm genital, sweat was trickling down his neck a trail of drool coming from his mouth, everything he thought of was you.. you YOU!, he imagined you torturing him, humiliating him, degrading him!.. his glasses were on the tip of his nose, a bright blush on his cheeks, he started fucking into his hand, the veins on his hands being more prominent, his once pink tip now red, he was getting more desperate, he started thrusting rapidly, “Mh-ah!~ Y-y/n!~ Pl-please..” he moaned pathetically, feeling close to his release, he game a firm slap to the tip and that’s when the knot in his stomach released, the sticky white fluid pooling on his stomach..

And.. That’s it! I’m really busy so that’s all I could do!

I’m sorry if it’s bad I’m new to writing so please have mercy 😘😘

bro that's so good like?? we should collab or smth...

[sailorsplatoon]

How do you think your version of the agents (including the idols and Acht) would react to meeting and feel about my oc Alex? his info dump is pinned on my blog

First of all can I say that I just read the infodump and I love all the work you put into him! He's a very cool character and I can tell you've spent a lot of time developing him and making his story a good one!

Okay, now onto actually answering the question. This is going to be long so I apologize in advance.

Captain would be a little hesitant at first, since she's kind of naturally distrusting of most people (similar to how she was when she first met Acht). However, after she sees that Alex's rough exterior is mainly due to all the stuff he's been through, she lightens up a bit. I have barely developed Captain's backstory, but she's definitely been through some rough things too.

Four likes him immediately. You mentioned that he has a soft spot for childish and hyper people, which is kind of Four to a T (though he's your oc so you'd know better what he'd think of them than me). Either way Four would be excited to meet him and want to get to know him better.

I am yet to talk about this on my account, but my Agent 8 has social anxiety, so he'd be pretty of nervous about meeting someone new. He wouldn't really talk that much at first, but he certainly tries to show kindness through his actions. After a while he get's comfortable opening up, but it takes him a bit. He does want to get to know Alex more, he's just shy and anxious. That has less to do with Alex and more to do with who Eight is as a person.

Neo thinks Alex is super cool. It's especialy fascinated by the amount of scars he has. It understands that he probably doesn't want to talk about what happened for him to get them, so it never asks. But Neo does assume that he's super tough, seeing how much he's been able to survive. It hopes to face off against him in a 1v1 Turf War at some point to see how well he fights.

Acht would be able to tell immediately that Alex has been through a lot. Because of that they make sure to treat him with extra kindness. They tend to be a more quiet and reserved person, but as long as they have Four nearby they're okay with opening up more. They take time to talk with Alex about pretty much anything, wanting him to know that they're there for him if he ever needs it.

I'm assuming at least a few of the idols have met Alex in your universe (since you mentioned Marie knows him), but in mine they obviously haven't yet so I'll talk about how the ones in my universe react when they first meet him!

Callie and Marie are mostly just worried for him. They can see how much he's been through and how it's taken a toll on him. They really just want him to be okay.

Pearl and Marina both find him interesting. They want to know more about him, but they also understand why he'd be hesitant to open up to them. They take a similar approach to Acht, which is just treating him kindly, though they also see how hard he is on himself and they make an effort to encourage him to take care of himself.

Shiver, Frye, and Big Man feel similar to Neo, thinking that he's super cool. They would challenge him to a fight if they didn't think he would kick their asses. They are 100% behind the idea of Neo trying to fight him though, mainly because they think it's going to lose horribly and they want to see that happen.

Thank you for the ask!!! I wrote a lot... your oc is amazing!

[thepenguinclub]

Happily Ever After

romantic draco/harry, growing up together, birthday, birthday gifts, draco pov, they are in love, fluff (and angst but mostly fluff)

Wordcount: 7,830

Summary:

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed happily. He then made an effort to not be too happy. Malfoy’s didn’t get so happy to see scruffy Gryffindor’s who had obviously just come back from an off-season quidditch practice.

“Hi Draco,” Harry said softly, smile widening. His hair was even more out of place than usual, windswept and chaotic. His glasses were crooked, and he had a grass stain on his cheek.

He was exactly what Draco’s day needed.

“How was practice?” Draco asked politely.

“It was good.” Harry was still smiling, and still speaking in that soft way. It was really the only way he ever spoke, unless he needed to speak up for a teacher. Draco liked it. It made everything he said sound special. “How’s your day been?”

Draco sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“It’s been boring, Harry,” he despaired. “Nothing happened at all.”

Harry’s face attempted sympathy, but it was ruined by the fact that he was still smiling.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” he replied. “Your birthday should be very special.”

---

Draco Malfoy's birthdays, ages 12-18.

happy birthday fable my love. a gift for you. check them out at fabledfrog.

once again stepping out of my comfort zone for this fic but the other one (for all you bbc merlin fans go and check it out after this) was received well so fingers are crossed, im very proud of this mostly because i crammed it and wrote it in like five days.

i love you i hope you like it. unbetad because they are my beta. i think it's okay but if something is wrong let me know (politely. im insecure and handle criticism kind of well).

HEY LISTEN UP: jk rowling is a disgusting human being and i do not support her, her material, or her views. she is a terf and i fully support trans people, as well as condemn her antisemitic views. there is a multitude of issues with the book series, including her treatment of fat people, people of color, and others. this is me writing her characters as gay and in love because i know she would hate it, not showing support for her or anything to do with her. if you do support that, fuck right off.

WARNINGS: lucius is mentioned to be horrible but we don't actually see him, the whole buckbeak situation, descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of depression (sixth year is rough), crying, eating food, swearing

i think that's it but if i missed anything let me know!!

----------

June 5, 1992 - First Year

Draco’s day had been boring.

Draco’s day had been boring, and, usually, that was simply unacceptable. Draco did not do boring, because Draco was an exciting person who liked excitement. 

But this was a special day. It was Draco’s special day, his birthday, and for Draco’s birthday to be boring was beyond unacceptable, it was- it was-

It was definitely something! There was a word for how above-unnacceptable it was and Draco definitely knew it. It started with an R. Or maybe an L. 

Draco’s perfectly polished shoes made little tap-tap sounds on the Hogwarts stone as he stewed on the word that he definitely knew, various paintings and portraits calling cheerful (and/or drunken) hellos to him as he passed. This was a hallway on the fourth floor that wasn’t often used, which suited Draco perfectly, as there were often times when Draco didn’t want to be found.

Not that Draco wasn’t a social person. He was a very social person, in fact. His father had been teaching him how to work a room since he could walk a room, and his mother had always impressed upon him the importance of manners and a good social standing. So, yes, Draco was a very social person because he understood how necessary it was for one to have a place in the world.

But, sometimes, Draco got a little tired working his Slytherin common room when it was so clear that everyone else was working the room as well. Conversation was boring when everyone had eight different layers below their words, and, as Draco had already mentioned, he did not like boring things. 

Besides. The unused hallway with unused classrooms was good for other things as well.

Draco sighed aloud.

He wasn’t doing any of those things, though. What Draco wouldn’t give to duck into the old Charms classroom and add some excitement to his day. He shot the classroom a wistful look, then admonished himself.

No, it wasn’t good for him to be upset about such things. Sometimes excitement didn’t have time for him. That was perfectly fine. The fact that he even entertained the thought that it wasn’t was re- re-

Draco groaned. Still didn’t have it. 

Draco absentmindedly turned a corner, stubbornly not thinking about the word that he definitely knew in hopes it might come to him (watched pots weren’t the only things that didn’t boil if they had an audience, right?), and then let out an undignified yelp when a skinny hand shot out from behind a curtained alcove and dragged him into it.

It took him a second to regain his balance, and, when he did, he was met with a nervous-excited smile.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed happily. He then made an effort to not be too happy. Malfoy’s didn’t get so happy to see scruffy Gryffindor’s who had obviously just come back from an off-season quidditch practice. 

“Hi Draco,” Harry said softly, smile widening. His hair was even more out of place than usual, windswept and chaotic. His glasses were crooked, and he had a grass stain on his cheek.

He was exactly what Draco’s day needed.

“How was practice?” Draco asked politely, his mother’s voice in the back of his head. Harry shrugged, which Draco’s mother would not approve of, but, then again, Draco’s mother wouldn’t approve of Harry in general.

“It was good.” Harry was still smiling, and still speaking in that soft way. It was really the only way he ever spoke, unless he needed to speak up for a teacher. Draco liked it. It made everything he said sound special. “How’s your day been?”

Draco sighed and leaned back against the wall. 

“It’s been boring, Harry,” he despaired. “Nothing happened at all.”

Harry’s face attempted sympathy, but it was ruined by the fact that he was still smiling.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” he replied. “Your birthday should be very special.”

“I know!” Draco agreed. “And nothing special happened. If I was at home, I would have eaten a cake as tall as me, and opened fifty presents! Instead I had to go to Transfiguration.”

Harry nodded, trying and failing to school his face into something serious. 

“That’s really horrible, Draco,” he said, and it occurred to Draco that Harry might be making fun of him.

“You’re laughing at me,” he whined, crossing his arms. Harry smiled again, which Draco guessed was a good thing. He liked it when Harry smiled, even if it was at Draco’s expense (although he didn’t like it too much. Malfoy’s didn’t care about whether poor Gryffindor’s smiled or not).

“Maybe a little,” Harry admitted, unashamed. At Draco’s pout, he laughed quietly, just like he talked. “Will this make up for it? I have a present for you.”

“A present?” Draco asked, perking up. He uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall, which put him quite close to Harry, as they were still in the alcove and it wasn’t very big. This close to him, Draco could pick out the individual flecks of gold in Harry’s too-green eyes, and see the light flush that spread over the apples of his cheeks.

“Mhm,” Harry hummed and nodded, reaching into a bag that Draco hadn’t noticed was tucked in the corner. He pulled a relatively thin, small book sized, bright yellow box out and presented it to Draco, who grabbed it eagerly.

“Lemonheads?” Draco looked up from the box in surprise. Harry was still smiling, but it was all nerves, and his hands were twisting together in front of him.

“You said they were your favorite,” he said.

They were Draco’s favorite, and nobody knew that. They were muggle, and the only reason Draco had even tried it was because they were in Paris and a wizard had given him one before his father had figured out that they were muggle and therefore not worth their time.

But it had been so good , so sour and it had lasted ten minutes in Draco’s mouth, and even though he had been eight and had had much more fun wizarding candy since then, he still considered them his favorite.

Draco didn’t even remember telling Harry that story, but he must have, because no one else in the entire world knew that Draco’s favorite candy was Lemonheads.

“They are,” Draco assured him, even though his tongue suddenly felt somewhat too big for his mouth and he didn’t know what to do. If his father saw him now, he would say he was- “Reprehensible!”

Harry jumped a bit, and tilted his head.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry.” Draco tore into the box of muggle candy, mind sated now that he remembered the word. “I just remembered something. Really, Harry, I can’t believe you got these for me.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “How did you get these for me?”

Harry shrugged again.

“I had Hermione’s parents pick them up for me,” he said. Draco nodded, not really listening as he pulled out one of the yellow hard candies from the box. He popped it in his mouth and smiled at his friend.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, not even having to think of his mother for those manners. Really, he couldn’t think of any present that he had ever received that he liked more. (Except for the season tickets to every Puddlemere game, but he wasn’t sure anything could beat that.)

“Of course, Draco.” Harry shrugged again. “I know it’s not how your birthday would usually go back at the Manor, but I wanted to get something you liked.”

“Really,” Draco insisted. “It’s perfect. Do you want to try one?” He held out one of the candies, which Harry looked at for a second before taking. His face screwed up spectacularly when he put it in his mouth, and Draco laughed uproariously at it.

“Draco, those are so sour, how do you like that?” Harry asked, astonished. His words sounded weird as he struggled to talk around the candy.

“I don’t know, I like sour things.” If he was Harry he would have shrugged, but Malfoy’s did not shrug.

“Weirdo,” Harry said seriously, pressing on Draco’s shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a friendly push. Harry was too careful for that, though, so it was just a warm press of his hand through Draco’s uniform. 

“You’re the weirdo,” Draco replied haughtily, still giggling at the face Harry had made.

“Sure,” Harry agreed. He was smiling again. “Happy birthday, Draco.”

Draco beamed at him.

(His stomach dropped and heart squeezed painfully when the news of Harry’s hospitalization and adventure against the Dark Lord made their rounds, and it was the first time Draco felt real, true fear.)

June 5, 1993 - Second Year

Draco almost forgot it was his birthday. 

Actually, he did, right up until his mother sent the usual birthday chocolates at breakfast. Draco then had to spend a few minutes trying to figure out why he forgot his own birthday.

Okay, well, he knew why. Draco had been sick with worry for Harry since it got out that he had gone who-knows-where and saved the girl Weasley. The Hogwarts rumor mill was surprisingly bereft of details, but, knowing Harry, it was something ridiculously dangerous. Draco at least knew he got hurt doing whatever it was, because his arm was wrapped tightly in white bandages, and his normal warm brown skin was clammy and three shades paler, only just starting to regain its natural color, one week later.

As Harry’s best friend, Draco usually was well-informed on whatever recklessly Gryffindor thing Harry had gotten up to, and, while he still worried, was reassured enough by the reckless Gryffindor himself.

However, as Harry’s secret best friend, Draco also was left to the fates of how well Harry could get away from his adoring fans, and, ever since whatever happened, he hadn’t been able to find any time alone.

He could, of course, sneak out at night with his invisibility cloak, and he did offer in the one note he had managed to slip Draco, but Draco had immediately refuted that idea. A blind man could see how much Harry needed his sleep, and Draco would rather lose his own sleep worrying about him than take away Harry’s.

Long story short, Draco was a little strung out, which had made itself apparent when he had stared at his mother’s birthday wishes uncomprehendingly for a half a minute before actually realizing what she was saying.

But, really, his birthday didn’t change much. It was any other day. They had exams to study for, so, despite it being a clear, beautiful June Saturday, Draco and the other Slytherin’s trudged their way to the library and claimed as many tables as they could get their hands on.

Draco then spent three hours with his nose in a book. Many books, in fact. He scribbled notes half-heartedly on a parchment, but he had always been good at retaining information if he read it a few times, so he started a circuit of two books per subject. 

By just before lunch time, he had read through Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions and was starting Charms. Well, he would have been starting Charms, except when he emerged from the end of his Potions text and looked for a Charms book, it wasn’t on the table.

Draco groaned to himself, but stood up anyway. His unused limbs ached for a second, but the pain dulled as he started walking. Draco cracked his neck absentmindedly as he wandered the shelves towards the Charms section. The books he needed were just in sight when a hand clamped down on his robe sleeve and started pulling.

Draco, now accustomed to this, just followed where the hand pulled him, until he ended up in an aisle towards the back of the library that contained… something. Those titles weren’t in English, French or Latin. 

“Hi,” Harry greeted him softly. He didn’t smile, which stirred the pit of worry in Draco’s stomach.

“Hi,” he replied anyway. “Are you okay?”

That got a little smile.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “I think so. Just recovering.”

“From what?” Draco checked his friend over surreptitiously, eyes lingering on his bandaged arm. Harry reached out and took Draco’s hand with the uninjured one, which caused Draco’s gaze to immediately snap to where Harry was intertwining their fingers.

Draco’s pale white fingers looked stark against Harry’s golden-brown, but Draco liked it. He ignored the way his cheeks started to heat.

When he looked up, Harry’s cheeks were flushed faintly, but he was finally giving Draco a real, genuine smile.

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry told him. Draco opened his mouth to argue that they had plenty of time now, and, even if they didn’t, Harry could easily tell him a short version at least, but Harry continued before Draco could protest. “I wanted to make sure I talked to you today, though.”

Draco sighed through his nose. Really, his birthday was insubstantial when Harry had probably had a near-death experience just a week ago. Draco told him as much, but it only caused Harry to shake his head firmly.

“No, Draco, your birthday is very important,” he insisted. “Besides, I got you your present ages ago, so I have to give it to you.”

Draco tried not to, but the mention of a present caught his attention, and he peered at Harry curiously despite himself.

“Oh, alright,” Draco acquiesced. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Harry smirked at him, to which Draco scowled. Harry then let go of Draco’s hand, which was very sad indeed, and left Draco feeling cold and bereft where they had been touching. He tried not to show it, and instead tucked his hand into his robe pocket as he watched Harry pull out a long, thin box from his bag. 

“Here you go,” Harry said unnecessarily as he handed it to Draco, which Draco immediately knew meant he was nervous. Draco didn’t know why. Didn’t Harry know that Draco would like anything he got for him?

Draco opened the box without flourish, and immediately felt his eyes go wide and mouth drop open in an incredibly indelicate reaction, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

In the box was a long silver chain with a simple star pendant that was lined in small shining diamonds surrounding an emerald inlaid in the center. Draco stared at it, then looked back up at Harry slowly. 

Harry was biting his lip, watching Draco with uncertain eyes. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Harry,” Draco started slowly. He licked his lips, trying to think of the words to express what he was feeling, “this is incredible.” Mmm, no, not the right ones.

“Yes, well,” Harry stuttered slightly. “It was very pretty, I thought, and you’re-” Harry’s face turned a very bright red. 

“I’m what?” Draco asked, staring back down at the necklace, and then back at Harry when he took a while to answer.

“You’re pretty, too,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. Draco felt his face heat up, to the point that he was sure he was redder than Harry. “And, you know, Draco is a constellation and it’s a star,” he said, louder.

“Oh,” Draco replied, for lack of something better. “I mean, thank you.”

Harry somehow blushed brighter, but he nodded hesitantly. “So, you like it?”

Draco clutched the box to his chest and tried to sound as earnest as he felt.

“I love it.” Draco looked down at the necklace and carefully extracted it from the box, watching it as it dangled from his fingers. He focused back on Harry, who was watching him with a soft expression on his face. “Would you put it on me?”

Harry nodded again, more confidently and with a grin. He reached out and took the necklace from Draco, who turned around.

The necklace came over his head and rested on his chest, and Draco felt the feather light touch of Harry’s fingers on the back of his neck, which sent shivers down his spine.

“Done,” Harry said quietly, and Draco turned around slowly, coming face-to-face with his best friend.

“I love it, Harry,” Draco repeated, because Harry needed to know, needed to know how much it meant to him that Harry had seen something so beautiful (and expensive) and thought of him.  

Harry smiled, really smiled, and Draco couldn’t do anything but smile back.

“I’m glad,” he said, and he reached forward to entwine their fingers again. “Happy birthday, Draco.”

Draco squeezed his hand.

(It was all his father’s fault, and he hated his father and hated that he could be a part of something that had hurt the most important person in Draco’s life.)

June 5, 1994 - Third Year

Draco was miserable.

In less than a day, that poor hippogriff was going to be executed, and it was all his fault.

“It’s not your fault, love,” Harry whispered into his ear, cuddling him closer. Draco was curled up in his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck and legs sprawled out in front of them, tangled together.

“I’m the reason it’s happening,” Draco muttered back, nuzzling Harry’s exposed neck. Harry heaved a sigh, and Draco briefly felt very guilty for being so despondent on him, but then remembered that Harry had told him he liked taking care of Draco and settled.

“Really, Draco,” Harry insisted. “It’s all your father. Not you.” He turned his head so he was speaking into Draco’s hair, pressing a kiss there.

That was one good thing that had come out of their awful year, a year when Harry was being actively hunted by a crazed madman and Draco was forced into acting like even bigger of a dick than he had been. He hated his father, hated him for putting Draco in this position. 

But it was nice, Draco readily admitted, not having to hide his feelings from Harry anymore, and their mutual confession wouldn’t have happened if Draco hadn’t felt the need to rile up the hippogriff or risk exposure.

Harry held Draco in silence for another few minutes before he finally spoke again.

“I have something for you,” he whispered, tilting Draco’s head up so he could see Draco’s face. “A present.”

The idea of a present sparked something warm in Draco’s chest like always, but it was subdued by the weight of crushing guilt. Harry frowned at Draco’s lack of reaction, but said nothing, instead reaching over to his bag and pulling out a small box.

He presented it to Draco silently, and Draco took it slowly, with slightly trembling fingers. He carefully lifted the lid.

A ring. Thick and silver, with a flat top and an engraving on it. Draco the box up carefully to the floating ball of light Harry had cast when they had first entered the abandoned classroom, and it floated closer to him obediently.

The engraving was the letter ‘B’ written in an old-fashioned script, and there was a bird with spread wings behind it, stark in a sharp black color that highlighted the letter.

“The Black family motto is ‘Toujours Pur,’ which means ‘always pure,’” Harry said quietly. Draco looked up at him, but couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Obviously not good. Their family crest is a terrifying ordeal, honestly, but I did like the crows on it. I wanted-” 

He paused, then sighed. 

“All I’ve ever wanted in life was a family.” Harry brought a hand up to toy with Draco’s hair seemingly absentmindedly. Draco knew he was trying to distract himself from what he was saying. “I hate the thought that you’re so amazing and you have to deal with such a horrible one. Your father is such an awful person, and you don’t deserve that, love. But your mum isn’t, really. I’ve never met her, obviously, but the way you talk about her makes her seem like the most wonderful, most loving mother in the whole world.” 

Harry’s eyes landed on Draco’s, and he carded his fingers through his hair. 

“That’s the kind of family you deserve. Not your dad, your mum. And I know you’ve got just about a billion things with the Malfoy crest on them, but I figured you might not have so much of your mum’s side of the family.” Harry nudged the hand that was holding the ring box, drawing Draco’s gaze to it. “So, I did some research when I was stuck in Diagon over the summer. The black family bird is the crow, which is a harbinger of death. Quite morbid, but it’s peaceful too, I think. To have an escort when your time comes.”

“You’re being quite philosophical, Harry,” Draco finally croaked out, voice sounding wrecked. Harry shrugged under Draco and offered up a half-grin.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about death,” he offered in explanation. “With this whole Sirius Black thing. How my parents died, how I might die. And about family, when it comes to my parents.” Harry smoothed a hand over Draco’s forehead, brushing away the stray strands of hair that hung there. “I told you. I want you to have something that you can think of as ‘family’ that also doesn’t immediately bring your dad to mind.”

“But-” Draco swallowed when his voice came out sounding even worse than a moment ago. He tried again after a second, and it was only marginally better. “But what about Sirius Black? He’s in the Black family too and he’s-”

“I know,” Harry interrupted. “But he doesn’t speak for you or your mom. You can make your own definition of the Black family. You can do whatever you want.”

And that was that. Draco was officially crying. It was messy, too, how embarrassing. 

Harry was lovely about it, though, just cradled his face softly and kissed his forehead, murmuring comforting words that Draco didn’t comprehend but helped regardless.

“Merlin, how are you so perfect,” Draco sobbed noisily, startling an aggressive snort out of his boyfriend.

“I practiced that speech in my head for hours,” Harry whispered loudly, causing Draco to laugh wetly. Draco stared down at the ring in the box, winking innocently in the floating white light. He very carefully pulled it out of the velvet, dropping the box, before sliding it almost reverently onto his left index finger, the ring magically resizing to fit perfectly. It was cold and heavy and Draco loved it and he loved what it meant and he loved Harry so, so much (they had only been together for a little while, though, so he kept that last one to himself).

Instead, Draco threaded his fingers through Harry’s, who squeezed their joined hands comfortingly. Draco admired the clean silver wrapped around his own long, piano player finger as it was surrounded by Harry’s dark and calloused hand. 

“You’re perfect,” Draco repeated, needing Harry to understand. He wasn’t sure if he really got the message across (he wasn’t sure he could communicate the all-consuming love and adoration he felt), but Harry pressed a dry kiss to Draco’s wet cheek.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” he whispered, lips moving against Draco’s skin.

Draco turned his head and kissed him. 

(Two days later, Harry regaled Draco with the tale of Buckbeak’s freedom and Sirius’ innocence and Draco twisted the Black family ring on his finger and felt proud, proud of who he was and who he could be.)

June 5, 1995 - Fourth Year

Draco didn’t know what to expect.

Harry had pulled him to the side earlier, gave him a quick kiss and birthday wish, and then informed him to go to their usual classroom after curfew. So far, Draco’s presents had been everywhere from innocent to complimentary to emotional, so, yes, Draco was a bit wary of whatever Harry had gotten him this year, if only to avoid the embarrassing reaction that he had had last year.

When he walked into the classroom Harry was already there, sitting on the professor’s desk at the front of the room next to a cake with white frosting and fruit decorations, big enough for two. Draco’s chest expanded with warmth, and he was smiling as he made his way to stand between Harry’s legs.

“Hello, love,” Harry greeted, still speaking softly like he always had despite the leagues of confidence he had gained. 

“Hello,” Draco replied, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. “This all for me?”

“‘Course.” Harry set one hand on Draco’s hip and nudged the cake with the other one. “Vanilla with honey buttercream and candied fruit.”

“My favorite,” Draco added unnecessarily. They both knew it was his favorite. He just loved the idea that Harry had remembered his favorite cake and gotten it for him, and he wanted to say it out loud.

“‘Course,” Harry repeated, pressing a quick peck to Draco’s cheek before pushing him lightly away. Draco crossed his arms and pouted, drawing a snort. “Cake first, kisses later,” Harry admonished.

“What about kisses now, cake now, and kisses later?” Draco asked innocently as Harry set two forks on the plate. He narrowed his eyes at Draco.

“Don’t push it, birthday boy,” he warned. Draco laughed lightly and went to sit on the desk on the other side of the cake. 

They ate in companionable silence, broken by quiet words and hushed giggles. Eventually, when there was only the last of the candied fruit left on the plate and Harry was watching Draco systematically spear each one with his fork, he brought out a box.

He handed it to Draco with an innocent smile.

“This isn’t going to make me cry again, is it?” Draco asked suspiciously after finishing his fruit, taking the box. Harry’s eyes twinkled with mirth.

“No,” he assured. “No emotional speeches or breakdowns this year.”

Draco, mollified, opened the box curiously.

A cloak pin. It was silver, and in the design of a dragon that was extraordinarily detailed in its carving. Draco looked up at Harry happily.

“It’s gorgeous,” he said, lifting the pin to watch it shine against the floating lights. He looked back at Harry to see something that could only be described as a shit-eating grin. Draco squinted at him, then held the pin out further away from himself. “What?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Harry answered honestly, eyes shining. “Look closer at it.”

Draco made sure his suspicion was made clear as he reluctantly brought the pin closer to him. It took him a second. Then he realized. He sighed heavily, and Harry burst into delighted laughter.

“A Hungarian Horntail,” Draco groaned. “As if I haven’t seen enough of those for three lifetimes.”

Harry wiped the side of his eyes as he giggled, and Draco valiantly tamped down on the smile that was trying to emerge.

“You’ll think of me every time you see it,” Harry informed him. Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ll think about you racing around on a broom trying to get yourself blasted to smithereens as my poor heart tried to jump out of its chest, you mean,” he corrected drily. Harry collapsed in another fit of laughter. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Harry managed to say through his gasping breaths. Draco squawked ( not dramatically) and Harry fell off the desk. 

Draco looked down at his boyfriend with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He set the cloak pin back in its box carefully (it really was beautiful) and gracefully slid off the desk, kneeled down next to Harry, and then flopped directly on top of him. Harry wheezed.

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, poking his side. Draco wriggled on top of him until he was face-to-face with his boyfriend. He raised an eyebrow.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, shifting to get more comfortable. Harry bit his lip in an attempt to stop smiling.

“Only a little,” Harry told him, which earned him a pinch to his shoulder. He yelped, and Draco laughed at him.

“I was promised kisses,” Draco informed him seriously. Harry nodded, mimicking his seriousness. He was still smiling, though, so he didn’t do it very well.

“Who am I to deny you such a thing?” Harry pulled Draco down so their lips met, and Draco sighed into the kiss. Harry didn’t let it get very far, though, before he was pulling away, eyes bright.

“Happy birthday, Draco.”

Draco kissed him.

(Nineteen days later and Harry stopped laughing. Stopped smiling. Draco didn’t get to kiss him before they were forced to go their separate ways.)

June 5, 1996 - Fifth Year

Draco was on Inquisitor duty.

His birthday had been horrid, just like every day that year had been horrid. Umbridge had only gotten worse, and with her Draco was forced to get worse, until the things he was forced to say and do to innocent students left him losing his meals and staying up at night.

Harry tried to assure him that Draco was only doing what he had to. That anyone in his position would do what he was doing just to stay alive, to stay on the good side of both his father and the Dark Lord. Draco agreed, which was why he was still going along with it, but it was horrid.

On Draco’s sixteenth birthday he made a first year Hufflepuff cry, called a third year a slur she was undeserving of, and volunteered to stay out past curfew on Inquisitor duty because he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

So it was after curfew and Draco was wandering the silent, dark halls of Hogwarts aimlessly, hating himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Draco tensed, turning to look at where it was coming from. There was no one there.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco hissed, looking back and forth desperately, trying to remember if anyone was supposed to be coming in this direction. The hand squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, then slid down his arm to grab his hand, pulling him the few steps it took to get him into an empty classroom. The hand let go, the door closed, and then Harry was appearing, invisibility cloak pooling around his feet.

He turned and warded the door before Draco could remind him. They had both gotten quite good at the alarm and silencing wards that they learned in order to be able to meet with each other.Still, between their OWL work, Draco’s extra duties and Harry’s extra detentions, they hadn’t been able to meet much at all. Draco missed Harry like he would miss a limb, and found it immediately easier to breathe when Harry turned to look at him with a small smile, as if a weight he wasn’t aware of had lifted off his chest.

“You’re insane,” Draco told him, crossing his arms. “This isn’t safe, Harry.”

“I was careful,” Harry assured him, striding across the room to stand in front of Draco. “And there was no way I was missing your birthday.”

Draco sighed, letting his arms drop.

“Harry-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, face resolute. He had grown, this past year. He was older, more handsome than cute, and he was stronger, both physically and emotionally. When Harry was serious about something, you listened. So Draco listened. “I have to be fast, but I wasn’t going to miss it, Draco.”

Harry took a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself for something. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He held it out so Draco could see it, then flipped the lid up. Draco’s breath caught in his throat.

Rings. Two rings. One was a polished gold, one a polished silver, with no other designs.

“You’re the most important thing in my world, Draco,” Harry said quietly, “and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t know if both of us will make it out of this war, but I want to have something that- that represents that for us, until we can get the real thing. So.” He lifted the box a little. “Promise rings.”

“Harry,” Draco breathed, sounding a little like he’d been punched in the stomach. He felt a little like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to,” Harry continued, looking nervous. “But you’re, um. You’re it for me, Draco.”

“You’re it for me too,” he managed to reply. Harry smiled, big and full, and plucked the silver ring out of the box, handing it to Draco, who cast a Lumos to see it better.

On the inside there was an engraving. Until after. ♡

Draco looked up questioningly. 

“The rings are just until after the war,” Harry explained easily, pulling a gold chain out of his pocket and threading the gold ring onto it. “Until we can get married for real.”

He closed the chain and put it over his head, tucking the ring into his jumper when it fell onto his chest. He didn’t have to explain that one. Draco wore a multitude of rings, including the Black one Harry had gotten him when they were thirteen, and a plain silver one wouldn’t draw any attention. Harry, however, wore no jewelry and wouldn’t get away with a gold ring without questions.

Draco stared at him. Marriage had always been held over his head as this inevitable thing, this thing that would happen with a woman and something that he had dreaded.

But when Harry said marriage, it was a light at the end of a tunnel. It was something for after, something to live for.

Merlin, Draco loved Harry more than he could handle.

“I love you,” Draco said, choked up, and Harry softened, stepping closer to Draco until his hands were warm on Draco’s arms and he was pressing a kiss to Draco’s nose. He carefully took the ring from Draco and slid it on to Draco’s left middle finger, only one finger away from where another ring would be someday.

“I love you, too,” Harry whispered to him, breath fanning his face. He kissed Draco, sweet and slow, and Draco loved him so much.

He pulled away too early (then again, Draco would have been happy to stay in Harry’s arms, kissing him, forever) and stepped back, going for his invisibility cloak.

“I told you I would be fast,” Harry smirked. Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Harry,” he replied with a mocking wave in an attempt to reign in his rampant emotions. 

“Bye, Draco.” Harry smiled at him one more time, swinging the cloak over his shoulders, disappearing except for his floating head. “Happy birthday.”

Draco watched him leave, heart full and ring already warm on his finger.

(Sirius died and Draco held him through it, loved him through it, and until after became a motto between them that got them through the worst of times.)

June 5, 1997 - Sixth Year

Draco was tired.

Draco was so tired. All the time. He walked in an exhaustion-fueled daze. He spaced out more than he focused. He ate when he remembered to, which was rare. His grades dove, mostly because he couldn’t stop being tired long enough to actually do the assignments. 

He was pale and shaking and gaunt, he knew. He avoided mirrors, but he still knew. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

The only thing that mattered was black and twisted and evil, and it was branded on him. Forever. Draco would be tired forever.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to sob and rage that it wasn’t fair, that he didn’t deserve any of it, but Draco was too tired. He didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay down and accept it.

Harry cried. He cried for Draco, he said. He felt for Draco. He was constantly angry, the aggressive burn to Draco’s placid numb. Draco watched him push away his friends, push away his teachers and his mentors, all because he was feeling for Draco. Draco wanted to be upset about it, but he was too tired.

Draco had given up on his mission before he had even gotten it. His mother had assured him that she had an escape plan, that they couldn’t use her as leverage, but the thought of her life on the line still sent bile up Draco’s throat. Still, he couldn’t kill Dumbledore. Even ignoring the fact that he didn’t want to, Draco couldn’t. There was no way to.

June came. Draco wanted time to stop, so he wouldn’t have to face the horror of going home knowing that he had failed in something he didn’t want to succeed in and suffer the punishment for it.

He didn’t do anything about it. He was too tired to.

“It’s your birthday,” Harry murmured in his ear. They were in their position, with Draco curled on Harry’s lap, head tucked into his neck. It was night time, and they were meeting in their classroom. 

Draco didn’t reply. He hadn’t known, but it wouldn’t have changed anything.

“I got you something,” Harry continued. He didn’t move. Draco didn’t either. He stared at a small crack running through one of the stones in the wall.

After a moment, a flat box the size of a book levitated out of Harry’s bag. Wordless, wandless magic was a feat a lot of grown wizards didn’t achieve, but, of course, his Harry could do it. Draco was so proud of him. He wished he could say it, but he didn’t have the energy to do more than shift his gaze to the box as it floated towards them.

Harry grabbed it out of the air with the hand that wasn’t resting on Draco’s hip. He opened the box and dropped it to the side, taking out whatever was inside and flipping it over, presenting it to Draco without a word.

A solid silver picture frame. The picture in it was familiar. A seven year old Draco was sitting on his mother’s lap, posing for a picture in the luscious Manor gardens. Draco was squirming a little, and Narcissa had a small, amused smile that she was directing at him. The picture looped after a few seconds.

Draco���s hands were shaking as he reached for it, but that wasn’t new. He took it carefully, tracing his mother’s beautiful face lovingly.

“Narcissa sent it to me,” Harry told him softly. Draco experienced a flicker of confusion. “We’ve been writing to each other since third year, actually.”

That was surprising enough to get him to tilt his head up to look at Harry. Harry was looking down at him, face unreadable but gaze warm.

“I wrote her after you told her about us,” he explained without prompting. “Introducing myself. She was lovely, just like you had always told me she was. We’ve been writing ever since. I told her I needed her help with a gift for you and she was more than happy to help.”

Draco loved Harry. Of course he wrote to Draco’s mother, because he knew how important she was to him and of course he wanted to make a good impression. Harry was perfect.

Draco looked down at the frame. Harry lifted his wand and rested it on the top of it.

“Revelare picturam unus,” he said, and the picture of Draco and Narcissa faded into white. It was quickly replaced with a new picture, which was of a slightly younger Harry, facing the camera with a wide grin and holding a sign that said ‘I LOVE YOU DRACO ❤’. The Harry in the picture waved over the sign, then brought his hand to his lips to blow a kiss. The picture looped.

“What-” Draco croaked in a whisper. He didn’t need to finish. Harry squeezed his hip comfortingly.

“There are thirty pictures.” After three more loops of Harry blowing Draco a kiss the picture faded back to the one of Narcissa and Draco. “This is the default, to avoid suspicion. But, when you’re alone, all you have to do is put your wand on the frame and say ‘Revelare picturam’ and then a number between one and thirty in Latin and it’ll show that picture.”

Draco stared at the frame for another few seconds, drinking in his mother’s face, before actually moving, sitting up in Harry’s lap and staring at him. He gave Draco a small smile, hand steady on his hip. Draco wet his lips a bit and cleared his throat, attempting to rid it of the lump that had formed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, trying to pour all of his feelings into the words. Harry widened his smile, showing a flash of teeth.

“You’re welcome, my love,” he replied. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next year, where we’ll be or what we’ll be doing, but I always want you to have a reminder that there are good things.” Harry brought his free hand to poke Draco lightly in the chest. “You’re a good thing. We’re a good thing.”

“You’re perfect,” Draco said back, because it wasn’t hard to say something so true. Harry’s cheeks pinked, and he continued smiling.

“I love you,” he replied, cupping Draco’s cheek in his palm. “Happy birthday.”

“I love you,” Draco told him, and it was the easiest thing he ever said.

(Those thirty pictures and the thought of the person who gifted them to him were the only things that got Draco through the worst year of his life.)

June 5, 1998 - Seventh Year

Draco woke up warm and comfortable.

Sunlight streamed onto his face, and he had to blink a few times to adjust to it. He stretched out under the heavy duvet, enjoying the feeling until he hit the cold spot on the other side of the bed. Draco frowned over at it, but his confusion didn’t last long. 

A knock on the door, and then Harry was coming in, clad in flannel pajama bottoms and a faded red shirt. He grinned when he caught sight of Draco, no doubt rumpled and sleepy-looking.

“Good morning, love,” he greeted, wasting no time in climbing into the bed and collapsing on top of Draco, who groaned.

“Good morning, Fat Friar,” he wheezed, prompting a bark of laughter from Harry. He did roll off of Draco, landing on his side and tucking his arm under his head so he could look at Draco.

“Do you know what day it is?” Harry asked curiously. Draco furrowed his eyebrows in thought, trying to go over what they had done that week. Just meeting with friends, working on charities, doing interviews. 

“Thursday?” Draco guessed, reasonably confident he was close.

“Friday,” Harry corrected with a grin. “Friday, June 5th.”

Draco let out a breath.

“Oh,” he sighed. “I forgot.”

“I can tell,” Harry said, amused. Draco whacked his arm softly. Harry just kept on grinning at him. “I got you something.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Draco deadpanned, even though a spark of warmth raced through his body. He loved getting gifts, loved getting them from Harry. 

Staring at Harry’s limp body had turned Draco’s world on its head and then shot it just as dead. Harry was Draco’s life, he was Draco’s reason, he was everything. Learning he was alive was euphoric, it was the biggest shock and relief that he would ever experience, and Draco swore that he would appreciate everything about Harry, remember everything, that he would never let a second go by when he wasn’t aware of and loving Harry.

“Shush,” Harry laughed. He didn’t do anything, though, didn’t pull out any box or grab Draco’s hand to pull him somewhere. Just settled and stared at him, so adoring it made Draco flush slightly. He smiled at it, then breathed deeply. “This one has a little speech to go with it, if that’s okay.”

“Don’t they all have a speech?” Draco teased, ignoring the ball of emotion in his chest.

“The cloak pin didn’t,” Harry pointed out. “Or the Lemonheads.”

“Ah, the Lemonheads,” Draco reminisced, thinking back to their eleven year old selves. “That was the best one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry told him seriously, ruining it a moment later by snickering. Draco reached over and grabbed his hand. 

“Well, get on with it,” he prompted. “I’m waiting for a speech.”

Harry smiled, and said nothing for a moment.

“I knew I was going to die,” he finally said. Draco stopped breathing. “I thought it during our fifth year and knew it during our sixth, and I accepted it in our seventh. I knew I would have to sacrifice myself for the world and I- I couldn’t say goodbye to you, Draco, because if I did I wouldn’t have gone through with it.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, his smile distinctly more watery than before. “I would have given up it all for you, Draco. But I did it, and then I came back to you. For you. I live for you, I do everything for you, because you are everything, Draco, you’re everything to me. You’re it for me.”

Harry breathed in shakily, but he was grinning so wide and Draco knew what was happening because he remembered those words, and that knowledge was a Lumos in his chest. 

“I know we’ve technically been engaged since we were fifteen, but I figured we could make it a bit more official,” he continued, and then he was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little black box that he flipped open to reveal a beautiful ring with twisting silver lines and a smooth black onyx in the center. Draco recognized it immediately as a Black heirloom.

“So, Draco Malfoy, would you do me the unbelievable honor of becoming your husband?” Harry asked. A tear slipped down the bridge of Draco’s nose, and another one down his temple, because he was still laying down sideways in his fucking bed and it was his birthday and Harry was proposing with a Black heirloom and Draco loved him, loved him so much.

“Yes,” he sobbed, then cleared his throat immediately with a little laugh, which Harry mirrored. “Yeah, yes, of course, Harry.”

Harry grinned so wide it looked like it hurt. He lifted Draco’s hand up to slide on the ring, which fit perfectly, of course. Draco couldn’t stop looking between it and Harry, couldn’t stop thinking about how happy he was. He felt like he could burst with it. 

He lunged forward, tackling Harry onto his back and laughing with him. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and breathing in, staring into his fiancé’s gorgeous green eyes.

“I love you so much,” Harry whispered, warm air ghosting across Draco’s lips. 

“I love you, too, Harry.” Draco pressed forward into a kiss that warmed him from his hair to his toes. Harry broke away after a moment to give him a blinding smile.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” he said, kissing him again.

Draco had never been happier in his life.

(‘Happily ever after’ had never been in the cards for Draco, but he managed to achieve it anyway.)

----------

long authors note incoming because this is most likely the only hp fic i will ever write and i need to get some thoughts out. skip to the end for my goodbye.

i characterize draco in one word: cat.

they both: hiss when threatened or angry but know when to run away, are protective of those in their fold but are also fiercely independent, always feel like they're the best one in the room, long suffering, sleepy in the sun (manor? cold. slytherin? cold. bed? warm. warm=sleep), love languages are gift receiving and physical touch, love giving languages are gift giving and quality time, vain and pretty, picky eater, whine and complain, THE LIST GOES ON

harry is a flustered bumbling mess in front of people but in private he is the biggest, smoothest romantic because he has spent his whole life thinking of what he wants in a relationship and my god he is going to make his perfect.

narcissa adopts harry immediately he is thirteen and cannot spell to save his life but he is nice and respectful and draco waxes poetic about him while still managing to spin it like he hates him, they are perfect together.

everyone is shocked when they learn of the relationship but they are even more shocked when they witness their interactions because they are so clearly in love how the fuck did they manage to hide it all these years.

i have more but i will spare yall. anyway.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FABLE I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY AND ENJOYED THIS I FINISHED IT THREE MINUTES AGO :DD

check me out on ao3 (@thepenguinclub) have a good rest of your week and i love you. bye.

[dylvana-v]

Diary of a Hopeless Romantic

Pt. 7 - Somebody not some body

After this drowning Monday, I had a very boring, lifeless Tuesday. Work was dull and I was still feeling lonely. I tried talking to my friends, but since everyone was sick, I also tried to give them some rest.

So who did I have left? Coworkers.

I started annoying my coworkers, and asked them if they needed any help, but this didn’t do much. I was still very bored. My thoughts were running wild, since all I could think of was how to skip Wednesday. So I asked one coworker if he was down to get some coffee.

Since he was busy for a little bit longer, I went to the cafeteria and treated myself to one. It somehow became a ritual to drink something to cool my head down. As a person with anxiety, order is something I really need. Any kind of chaos would cause my inner self to riot.

Just when I let my eyes wander in that hospital’s cafeteria, I saw what I was secretly looking for. Him.

I really needed to muster up any courage I had, to walk up to him and the other doctor he was with and ask if I can sit with them. They happily accepted and I sat down next to E. When I looked over to him, he was smiling brightly. I felt that he was truly happy about me deciding to join them for their lunch break.

He asked about my work day. Told me he has a small thing for me to do, which I was happy about. He asked me about my work life in general, if it’s stressful (since he once asked and it was horrible that time). I told him it is better now and I actually am bored most of the time. They talked about how my assignments to them, filling out documents and stuff is hard for them and I told them I try to help them out already, but that’s actually all I can do for them.

E told me they can be happy to have me then, and we talked about how different my coworkers would treat them. I made fun of him a little by telling him I could change and help them out less, which made him, his coworker and me laugh. He pulled back immediately. As I said, he is fun to tease.

He also asked about my office, since I don’t have to share it yet. Seems like someone is jealous about it (when actually I am just lonely there). He asked me where I live (which city). We talked about how he has friends there and which city around this area we liked the best.

He told me how he thought the social worker that he had to work with would be someone older, but was glad someone this young appeared. And with this we also talked about the “you” incident. As I already mentioned, he was glad it happened.

He asked me about my age and I found out that he is 4 years older than me. And then they had to leave. When the other one was already putting away the tablet, he leaned over a bit while standing up.

“It made me happy that you came over to us.”

And that gave me butterflies, but not just in my stomach, this gave me butterflies all over my soul. It made my soul happy, not anxious or nervous, just happy. Of course that feeling faded, but even now when I think of it again, it just makes me happy.

The way he asked so much, digged deeper into what I said. The way his questions were about the real V and not Work V. The way he told me he was glad I took a step towards him. The way he talked.

I did not feel like some body, some pretty face. I felt like somebody. Like a person.

Because he treated me like I had layers, colors, and textures. It made me feel valued again.

- the hopeless romantic

[nahalism]

Hi! Do you sometimes catch yourself analyzing things too much, always getting really deep underneath and kind of ending up having too little room to actually be carefree and sort of experience life without the constant buzz of those thoughts, searches/analysis/seeking meanings/truths/lessons? Or do you find that’s it’s possible to + that you do best when you have both happening simultaneously? If the question doesn’t make sense let me know and I’ll rephrase it. Love& love

hey. i think i get what you mean but lmk if i didnt— i think im the type of person that ricochets between extremes in order to understand myself, the world, what balance means for me,,,, and then when i find the 'truth', or where that extreme has led me, i have a level of understanding about either me or the world that i can hone, either as an ideal to understand or one i can live up to/aspire to. — so there have been times where im in the kind of haze you described. over analysing, over thinking, isolating myself, getting deep into rabbit holes or theories about why what is what. but then i also swing to the other side of the pendulum and have times where im completely in my body, in my feelings, and in response to the world. im not over thinking, although im still hyper vigilant & it feels like im processing the world on drugs. its just in that moment, the need to understand, analyse and chew over the information on my own isnt there yet. something allows me to register everything in a more intuitive way? to where the 'buzz of thinking' still exists but its an energy i can ride rather than one thats stifling me or causing me to over question, over think, & ultimately doubt myself.

there are benefits and disadvantages to both ways of being. sometimes it feels good 'taking things lightly' and feeling unbound and i feel more social because of it. other times it feels good being alone so i can really process the world in the depth i want to without interruption or a need to discuss/debate what i feel. other times solitude and analysis feels overbearing, and the clarity feels stifling. theres all the concepts but they have nowhere to exist out of your head. their just a glass cage youve made for yourself & it can be lonely. that compared to the rush of action and freedom i feel in my 'non disciplined state' is horrible. buttt at my heart i am a serious person. i do like to consider and process and understand. so when i am in a more carefree space, i might have the freedom and the energy to express myself, but the energy is hard to harness or channel to anything thats not purely hedonistic or running off of the same impulsive energy as me. the key / balance here would be for me to channel the momentum of my energy in those moments toward goals/aims set when i am in the analytical, precise, clear space.

and so yeah the reason i explained it in such a drawn out way is that both the extremes help me understand and then actualise the middle ground thats right for me. unless a persons too uptight they may never have the reason / face the kind of discomfort that makes them understand the necessity of being happy go lucky. and if your never happy go lucky you may never understand the necessity of seriousness, or learn that there is a difference between being carefree, and being lackadaisical. vice versa. every experience especially the negative ones show and teach us things either about ourselves, what we need to keep doing, or change, to be where we want to be. deeper than that, sometimes your learning things, seeing things that you arent meant to understand now. they go in your rolodex/subconscious and pop out to save your life/tip you off to something when you least expect it.

dont let anxiety, over analysis, or anything rob you of your life, but trust your brain, trust body and trust your heart to be true mirrors for you. know that they are showing you and telling you things about your reality & that nothing shown is ever wasted. trust in ur journey bb. 🌟

feel free to dm me if u wanna chat. big love to u <33

[rk-x-yz]

(

I am pretending to be productive by putting this here. aka I spent like 2 hours compiling older stuff from a different story line into one document, that came out to a shit ton of word blubber and me cringing aggressively, rather than me actually working on the comic I was supposed to do lol whoopsies

Enjoy :)

)

He couldn’t help the toothy grin that crept across his face at the feast laid out before him. A bead of sweat was dripping down the other’s face, hair sticking to his head. He was twitching, eyebrows drew taut across the smooth slope of his brow. Anxiously, his fingers twitched toward the dice laying before them.

Fourteen sided. It was a simple game, truly. Aces never was more than childs play for many, just get to fourteen without exceeding it. First to obtain more Ace cards wins. And yet, without fail, people would crumble before Talek, their limbs quaking with energy as if they had been shocked. The heavy breathing, their astounded expression at loosing such a simplistic game.

“Call it our little secret,” He drawled, voice dripping with sweet water: sweet, cold, clear, uncaring. “Run along now, they will find you later.” 

The man had foolishly bet his life, and while Talek would typically decline such a request, he could not help but be intrigued. He had hoped the player would be interesting to dissect. 

“How disappointing,” Talek lamented, stalking to stand over the balcony of his tower. From this high, all below looked like rivers of light. Speckles of a second sky as the Market of Golden Shadows was set aglitter in the midnight light. The air was chilled, he noted, fingers curling more tightly around the railing. 

“Come out,” He called, holding pretenses due to the lack of knowledge about the person coming. “No use in hiding now, I can taste you.” 

“...Mhykal,” a soft, fairly confident voice rang. Mmm, no, that wasn’t right. The voice may, for all appearances be confident, but it shivers slightly on the lower notes. A lie, a false play at confidence. Talek couldn’t help the small twitch of his eyebrow as he turned around to face Viridian.

“Talek.” In horrible detail, he knew the history of the man before him. Azriyah was always talkative, and Talek would never pass an opportunity to gain information—for that was the way that status found its way into his hands. That, however, did not excuse his ignoring of Talek’s request to be called by name. Certainly, they would be in-laws in the next century, holding social respect was as unrequired as the people who played against him. 

All the vague irritation that he was feeling melted slightly as he saw the stiff posture of Viridian. Fear. Anxiety. Pain. Perhaps, abandonment and regret. The air was soured by this. Talek had to refrain from pulling a face at the new tastes in the air. 

“Viridian,” He started, dropping the condescending tease from his voice, “Why are you scared?”

“You misunderstand me, Mhykal,” Viridian started again, the shiver more vibrant than ever in his voice, his green eyes refusing to meet Talek’s.

“Talek,” he sighed out, eyes narrowing at Viridian. Many could not meet him in the eye, to which he could understand. His eyes, or so he was told by Raio were “Lone stars, of which prophets may call representations of death”. Viridian? He had no need to avert his eyes.

Finally having his fill, Talek pushed up off of the railing, walking towards the man.

“Viridian, you know what,” Talek smiled devilishly, carefully wrapping his arm over the shoulders of the other. “I’ll just call you Viri, suits you and your poker face.” 

For his part, Viridian looked vaguely more relaxed with Talek now just playing with him. 

“You know, if you told me you were comin’ I would have cleared my schedule. I can still taste the little lamb’s pungent disappointment in the room.” Talek frowned, playfully putting out his lip in an effort to ease the other. 

Evidently, it worked when he heard a small chuff from the man next to him. In all reality, it was nothing more than a little puff of air, but a sidelong glance said wonders for how Viridian had loosened up. 

“Ahhh, so dear future brother-in-law,” Talek yawned, voice teasing now that Viridian had relaxed a little more.

“That’s, actually, what I wanted to talk about?” Tension seeped back into Viridian’s voice. 

“Did he…?”

“No,” Viridian sounded incredibly disappointed. Talek burst out laughing. 

A hard swat to the head was all he received in response to that. 

“Ah dear young Viridian—”

“Older than you.” 

“Primordial ooze who comes to seek me, in all my wisdom—” 

“It's 8 years you cretin,” 

“Entirely enough time for the universe to create itself two times over, but I digress,” Talek cackled, waving his hands dismissively, “He won’t propose.”

Viridian’s face soured, the small smile that was forming fading almost as fast as it came. 

“Viridian,” Talek rotated to now rest his back against the night air, tilting his head towards the elder, once again all teasing dropping from his voice, “Riyah won’t propose because he cares too much about you.” 

Self-sacrificial in that sense, disappearing for almost a full decade before abruptly returning. Azriyah was among those that scared Talek, all too serious about everything they do. It was a miracle that he even returned in the first place, even if he was different afterward. Drinking until sunrise, working until the moon hung full in the sky. If anything, the last four decades with Viridian had helped him solve a good majority of his issues to Talek’s knowledge.

“Look, Viri, my brother loves you too much to allow himself to be like her,” Talek spat the last word, fingers twitching towards the throwing knives in his jacket. “He refuses to trap you in a marriage that you wouldn’t want.” 

Viridian looked stunned, a faint shimmer of tears on his eyes. Time for the final blow. 

“So please, for the love of all the sunrises and moon falls, can you propose to him already?” Talek is anything but unobservant. He could, quite literally, taste his brother’s growing melancholy about this. If Viridian didn’t step in to do anything, Azriyah most likely would pass out from how stressed he was making himself about it.

“...did he…tell you this?” Viridian asked hesitantly, hope blooming in his expression. Talek gave him an appraising look.

A strange one this one is. Almost perfectly masked emotions, although his voice always gave him away. Shallow breaths, but a voice deep enough to soothe a crying baby. Caring of how marriage would affect immortality. Talek hadn’t ever understood the concept, however, he was able to see it in the way Viridian was standing. 

His spine was straight, aligned, however, his shoulders were stiff. He was uncomfortable, although curious. His feet faced inwards giving the idea of him being uncertain, although the rest of his posture was far less closed. His hands curled in his robes behind him, clammy hands creating wrinkles like the ones by his belt.

Viridian’s face was flat, trying to hold an air of disinterested confidence, but all too well failing to that effort. His lips were curled slightly upwards, a faint blush filling out under his eyes. His eyes themselves shimmered with unshed tears, hope continued to flow behind them. His eyebrows were pulled upwards, slightly at the center point of his forehead. This, regardless of how Talek answered, was important to him.

“For you to figure out,” Talek teased, bumping his elbow into Viridian’s shoulder, “When you ask him to marry you.”

A bright smile curled across Viridian’s face. Nothing like his brothers, Raio’s being sun incarnate, and Azriyah’s being reminiscent of a sunset—all memories, this one was entirely like the moon. It was beautiful, gentle, and all too similar to Maei. How both of the two sunshine children gained moons of their own actually astounded Talek sometimes. 

“Alright go,” Talek gently shoved Viridian towards the door, “I am certain a little general is waiting for you back at home.” 

A small laugh later, “Thank you Talek.” 

He snorted in response, “See ya later alligator,” 

And to which, he turned back to his night skies. One alight with those long since passed, and one ablaze with the fires of youth, curling upwards in heated displays of passion. He regrets very little of his life, although now it seems, he has another little sheep to bring to the slaughter. A cackle rips through him, eyes dangerous as he awaited for his next victim.

[mrshcloset]

Seven terrible pieces of life advice — and how to counter them

Here’s one article that Karen Nimmo wrote.

Thoughts:

Do what you love and you’ll never work a day again in your life.

Yes, you will. Even doing what you love involves work. Even the best jobs have boring bits. And hard bits. Along with challenges, setbacks, difficulties. So don’t fool yourself.

And remember that an obsession with doing what you love can test, even wreck, your important relationships. Don’t do that unless your chief aim in life is to have your job title etched on your gravestone. Then it’s fine.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

Whoever came up with this gem wasn’t thinking about the psychological impact of name-calling or verbal bullying. Nor about online abuse, about how words used in derogatory ways can significantly impact a person’s mental health. Anxiety, depression, substance abuse, eating disorders and a lifetime of struggles with self-worth, to name a few.

Horribly outdated, needs to go straight to the tip.

You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else.

So much pressure! As a therapist I see  many people who struggle to like, let alone love, themselves. And many of them love their people –  parents, partners, kids and friends  –  very well indeed. There’s no denying that a good, sound, appreciation of yourself can serve you well in life, as well as love. But self-love (I prefer self-acceptance) is a work in progress. You don’t have to radically accept yourself in order to do well in the world. You just have to hold it as a possibility and keep working towards it.

Everything happens for a reason.

No. Just no. I’ve seen good people brought to their knees by tragedy, heartbreak and I can’t think of any justifiable reason for it. Sometimes, shit just happens. Sure, maybe you can eventually find meaning in suffering, but you don’t have to. You can just call it shit and leave it at that.

Live each day as if it is your last.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t spend my last day on Earth unloading the dishwasher or paying bills. I wouldn’t spend it at my desk. I wouldn’t do chores. I wouldn’t check my social media feeds or my banking app. I wouldn’t exercise. I wouldn’t be responsible for anything –  or anyone.

I’d just go hang with my favourite people in the sun (if there’s sun), have a laugh, wind up the music, eat hot chips and have a glass of chilled wine. Which would be excellent. But every day? Not sure where that would take me.

Actually, I am sure, and it wouldn’t be good.

Never go to bed angry.

Good in principle because we all like the idea of drifting off to sleep every night with our relationships in perfect order. But in reality? Couples fight. And some fights need time and space to settle. More importantly, some people need time and space to cool down and get their thoughts in order. Conflict does need to be addressed but not always in the moment. Figuring out a plan that works for you both is a better strategy.

You’ll never get that time back again.

Often said to people with young kids who are supposed to be making the most of every precious minute. Sigh. Anyone who has been around young kids knows that the best laid plans often end with tears and mushy food all over someone’s face (not necessarily the child’s). You don’t have to make every moment count. You just need to be as present as you can  –  for the bad, annoying and frustrating times as well as the good.

As we get older we realise that a lot of life’s moments, or phases, we couldn’t be paid enough to go back to. Sixteen again? Not for me, thanks.

So just be aware that time passes slowly, until it doesn’t. Make sure that when the time comes, you’ll be able to look yourself square in the rest home mirror and say this: “Good job. I gave it my best.”