#yet somehow - against all sense or better judgement . you know it's going to be fine?

[rivilu]

disjointed fandom posting sorry but it just hit me that pwotr is like. the only rpg where a companion never once left my team

[save-the-villainous-cat]

just reread horny jail i beg for more pls

“I’m pleased to see you,” the villain said, a shit-eating grin on their face. They stood up from their armchair and walked over to their hero.

Even in their own home, they preferred to wear fancy clothes over casual ones. It was a habit, a little obsessive habit that demanded order and discipline. And the hero noticed that, too. At least their eyes bored into the villain’s body, searching for something to focus on. It was quite entertaining.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t know if you’d make it out alive,” the villain said. “I never doubted your abilities, but…”

“You left me to die,” the hero said. They crossed their arms in front of their chest and the villain could see how their suit highlighted their muscles delicately. It had been a mistake to leave the hero behind. A small part of their mind had thought that…if the hero could just disappear, the villain’s heart would find some peace. But that wasn’t the case.

“Oh, you’re fine.”

“Bastard.”

“You look fine.” The hero glowered at them, clearly not amused but in a sense, they seemed more tired than angry. They always did. After all, they were carrying the whole world on their nearly broken shoulders.

“You’re an asshole,” they said weakly. “I thought we were good.”

“Oh, come on, can’t a villain have a bit of fun?” They focused on the hero’s lips, thinking about what they would feel like against theirs, what the hero would do to them if they had the chance. They imagined what the hero would be into and what they’d despise. They thought about the sweet sounds they would make.

The hero leaned against the door with their back and the villain leaned forward, their chests nearly touching.

“You hurt me,” the hero said. “I trusted you, I really thought we’d be a team. But once again, you betrayed me. I don’t know why I keep coming back to you.”

“My poor hero,” the villain whispered, their lips nearly touching the hero’s ear. Their breath was hot against the hero who was still kissed by the chilly air outside. And as the villain observed their enemy’s neck, they saw the goosebumps spreading.

“You’re cruel. You’re so cruel,” the hero said, frustration taking over the melody of their voice.

The villain tutted. “I know.”

I have to, they thought. This was the only way to keep the hero in their life. They would always fight each other, always loathe each other. Keep the cycle going, keep the pain hurting.

“I hate you,” the hero said. “I fucking hate you.”

The villain wanted to say something, wanted to apologise, fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness. Because they had fucked up. Guilt was something new to them but damn, it somehow sucked.

“Look, I…”

“I hate you,” the hero said again, tears running down their cheeks. “You fucking idiot.”

They grabbed the villain and pushed them against their chest. And against their better judgement, the hero kissed them roughly, putting all the pain into it. The villain got caught off guard and their eyes widened when the hero’s kiss grew into something pleasurable yet slightly painful. Using teeth and their tongue — being greedy and upset.

Their hands tugged at the villain’s pants, planning for greater moves. Eventually, the villain managed to pull themselves away.

“Stop it,” they said, catching the hero’s hands and peeling them off their cheeks. “What are you doing?”

The hero didn’t mind them and instead, kissed their neck slowly. The tears had stopped but the hero was certainly not alright. It felt like heaven but it was so, so wrong. Nearly hypnotised, not sure if they should enjoy this or stop the hero, they let the hero suck a hickey into their neck.

But then it clicked.

“Stop it,” the villain said again and this time, they pushed the hero away slightly. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to leave you. I didn’t…I shouldn’t have done that, okay? I know I messed up. I’m so sorry.”

The hero looked at them. “That means absolutely nothing to me.”

Their fingers dug into the villain’s shoulders again, ready to really start this.

But somehow, this one sentence broke the villain’s heart into two. Just a little.

[raggaraddy]

Tasty

Summary: You get exactly what you want when you try to seduce Hoseok's for his attention.

Trigger warning: Smut, Dirty talk, Blood-drinking, Blood play, Period Sex, Masturbation, Mild exhibitionism.

A/N: Apart of the 'You tease/instigate sex with Yandere BTS' OT7 reaction. 💜💜💜

Other parts

Yoongi

Namjoon

Taehyung

Vampire! Hoseok

It's not exactly like you want to be surrounded by all those blood-suckers and the scummy humans that work for Hoseok. You just hate that every time you're on your period he isolates you. Keeping you locked out of sight like you're something impure or some kind of temptation.

You've been trapped in your room for 2 days now and on top of feeling frustrated, cramped, and uncomfortable, you're insanely bored. Yesterday Hobi was out for the entire night, and tonight he has been preoccupied downstairs doing god-knows-what. You have literally nothing to do in this bare room.

It's late in the morning and you're exhausted enough that you could just go to sleep, but unfortunately he hasn't eaten yet today. And you remember all too well what happened the last time you went to sleep before he fed. You woke up with a size 41 boot to the gut and him calling you selfish. Let's just say it was a lesson quickly learnt.

Even worse than your boredom though, worse than your frustration or exhaustion, and against your better judgement, you're also wildly horny. You and Hoseok haven't had sex in 4 days. However, Hoseok's preconditioning gets you aroused every time he feeds. So each day you have been getting more and more turned on, and then add to that how needy you become during this time of the month and you were about ready to beg for it.

Early morning turns into mid-day and you are over-tired when your wandering thoughts build into a potentially disastrous idea. You know you're not allowed to leave the room and if you were stupid enough to yell downstairs for his attention you'd get your ass kicked, no doubt. But if you can lure him up to you somehow, then that should be fine. Right?

Getting undressed you lay on the bed, making sure that you'll be the first thing he sees when he enters the room. With your fingers drifting down your body between your thighs you're already oversensitive and throbbing. Flinching as you feel yourself gush before you've even begun.

Arching your back you bend your knees and slowly slip two fingers inside yourself. Pushing them deep with some resistance as your opening stretches for a tight fit. It's only a single smooth motion and you have barely started, and yet you already feel a wave of pleasure spiking up your spine, tingling the roof of your mouth.

At first, your breath is a little taken as you start to play with yourself, but the moment you regain your sense you release every moan, every whine, and every cry. Leaning into the chorus of sounds you let loose, playing them up. With their heightened hearing you know every vampire in the house must be aware of what you are doing, however, there is only one that you want to accept your brazen, obvious invitation.

Too quickly you're getting caught up in the sensations and pleasure you are giving yourself. Knowing Hoseok can hear you, knowing how greatly and how viscerally he enjoys every sound you make, and how much you must be turning him on is working you up further. You are desperate to have him with you. To have him sink his fangs inside you. To push his cock inside you. The thought has you frantic, barely resisting your approaching climax.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long, only a few minutes at most for your exclamations to draw Hoseok's attention. Discreetly opening the door, he stands in the threshold watching you with intrigue. Looking over you salaciously as you use your fingers to substitute your need for him.

Noting his presence you rest up, making eye contact with him. Breathing raggedly as you feel yourself near a perfectly orgasmic point. The impatient and hungry part of you is starting to overpower your reason and sense. Your desire stoking the idea that you should simply let yourself cum. Failing to hold yourself back as the sensation crescendos you start to fall into pure bliss.

Unable to see Hoseok move your eyes only focus on him as he lands over the top of you. His hand firmly grabbing around your throat, making you moan harder as he slams you back into the mattress. His knee pinning your arm to the bed, pulling your touch from inside you.

"Don't you dare!" He warns with a smirk, growling lustfully.

Slowly he sticks his tongue out licking the air, winking suggestively. The action shoots a pang of electricity to your core, making you fight to stifle another chesty moan.

Panting lightly, a small smile pulls onto your open mouth. Your eyes are wide as you look up at him.

How is he so incredibly hot?!

Oh, god you can't wait. You need him inside you so badly.

"I taste really yummy, Hobi." You purr, fighting to control your breathing, your constricted throat scratching a little. "Do you want a bite?" You don't need to offer twice.

Hoisting your legs back, he slips down the length of the bed, his head invading between your thighs. As his mouth touches your overflowing pussy his tongue delves deep inside you, kissing and licking you out from the flat of his tongue to the tip.

Already on the edge, he turns you into a desperate mess instantly. You're bucking your hips into his mouth, digging into his wavy brunette hair, screaming out his name as you cum on his tongue. Griding against him through your explosion of pleasure. Although after only a moment your screams devolve into obscene squeals and whimpers.

But just because you came doesn't mean Hoseok is done.

Your body twitching and your pulsing core aching you're left whining from an intense oversensitivity as he continues to shove his tongue inside you. Ignoring how you buck or how strained your cries have become. Only when he is satisfied he finally gives you rest, lifting up to look at you.

His hair is dishevelled, his mouth covered in blood and cum. Looking like the devil himself. And the ravenous glimmer in his eyes is only making you hungry for more.

"You're such a tasty little snack." He smiles, bringing a new kind of heat to your cheeks.

Without allowing you time to recover, he snaps his head down piercing his fangs into the soft sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Making you scream anew. Only this time in pure pain. Using his raw strength to hold you still, not letting you gain even an inch as you ineffectively squirm. His teeth ripping into your flesh harder every time you attempt to move.

At last, he releases his grip and drags you lower on the bed biting again, this time in the crease of your hip. Crawling up you he incrementally works his way along your body, laughing as he bites you over and over until he reaches his favourite place. Your neck.

The familiar sensation of being wet, having his weight pinning you down, and having his fangs puncturing your throat has you unwittingly switching out the pain for pleasure. Your mind is riddled with filthy, lewd desires and thoughts of shameful acts that you want to beg him to do to you.

As if he takes pity on your desperation he fulfils your wishes, one-handedly yanking down his pants to which you instinctually spread your legs for him. Your hips thrusting up to meet him. Your mind going numb with bliss and relief as he slams his hard thick cock inside you. Filling you exactly as you craved. Making your tender cunt throb and clench around him. Welcoming his shape. Welcoming his size.

Roughly Hobi forces his tongue inside your mouth, filling it with your blood and juices. His hips ram forward making you moan and surrender, sucking his tongue as he is coaxing you to do. Your thoughts completely consumed by and obsessed with him and you in this moment and the euphoria you feel. Still knowing in the back of your mind how ashamed you will be once your high wears off.

But right now you just don't care.

"You're right babe," Hobi smirks down at you, breaking your kiss as he starts to fuck you with purpose. "You're delicious."

[hetyra]

Here have a self-indulgent drabble of a post-rehab Goro not having a great time.

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

Back when he’d been working with the Phantom Thieves to take down Maruki, Goro had, against his better judgement, made small attempts to be more civil, more friendly, with them. He’d always regretted it immediately of course; having been met with a response that was either cold or indifferent from whoever acknowledged he’d even spoke each and every time. 

Which was fine. After what he’d done, it made sense they’d all actively dislike or outright hate him. They were just working together towards a common goal. They didn’t have to like him. No matter how much he wanted them too.

And yet Kurusu did, for some inconceivable reason. Kurusu had gone out of his way to simply... Hang out with him. He had gotten visibly upset when it came out that the boy in front of him was supposed to be dead. He’d actually considered letting that bastard Maruki control all reality just so that he, a murderer, would continue to be alive. Why?

Kurusu deserved to know that he was. After all the selfless things the fool had done, being told the boy he’d almost given up all reality for had somehow miraculously survived was something he deserved to know.

But here Goro was. Not telling him. 

How could he, anyway? He’d lost his phone, and thus Kurusu’s number, somewhere between being shot in Shido’s palace and waking up in the hospital in February. Bastards probably kept it as evidence. He’d been dragged off to court as soon as he was fit to leave the hospital, and immediately shipped off to the rehab center as soon as the ruling was made. At least the doctor had been the same one who’d tried to help his mother.

Being back in Tokyo now didn’t mean anything. Kurusu was likely back in his hometown, meaning the only way Goro could contact him was if he spoke with someone else Kurusu was acquainted with, which wasn’t going to happen.

The other Phantom Thieves didn’t like him. Sakura Sojiro almost assuredly knew of his deeds by now, and would also detest his presence. Sae was an option... But no matter how many times he dialed her number into his phone, he could never bring himself to actually press the call button.

After weeks of deliberating, Goro decided it’d be best if he just... Didn’t. 

Don’t tell Kurusu you’re alive. Don’t create that divide between him and his friends. Between him and Boss. Don’t drag Sae down again. Don’t make all of them deal with the grief and pain you caused them all again. Stay away. 

You don’t deserve them anyway.

--

As it turned out, staying away was easier said than done when you still lived in the same city. Sure, Tokyo was large and countless people wandered the streets during all hours of the day; but the universe seemed determined to try and drag Goro kicking and screaming back into the lives of all those he'd sworn to leave alone.

Only a week after making his decision, on his way home from talking to his therapist, he saw none other than Sakamoto. He’d just walked into a store to grab some groceries, but upon seeing the thief in one of the aisles he’d dropped everything and left before he could be spotted. He should have at least gone to a different store, but the senseless panic that had seemingly overtaken him had him rushing straight home to his empty kitchen. He wound up ordering delivery that night, and then went shopping during school hours the following day. Since when was he such a coward?

A couple weeks later he finally worked up the nerve to go do some much needed non-food related shopping. Only he wound up skipping over a few shops he’d meant to check because he’d spotted Takamaki and a friend of hers. He had watched the two of them for a few moments, a smile beginning to play across his lips as he figured out who her friend was, before he’d caught himself and left. He wasn’t allowed to be happy for them.

At the end of October he’d, again, been on his way home from therapy when he spotted a familiar face. He’d stupidly decided to treat himself to some fast food for once, only to freeze while passing by a Big Bang Burger when glancing through the window revealed none other than Okumura Haru herself standing in the lobby. He suddenly hadn’t had an appetite anymore. Why? It’s not like you killed her father or anything.

Goro had bitterly noted it was Nov 18th when he’d left the house, and nearly froze up when he later spotted Sae walking his direction in Shibuya. He’d managed to duck behind a corner and it was clear she thankfully hadn’t seen him as she passed by, but he couldn’t help but feel the universe was out to get him.

(It was out to get him and it succeeded as he proceeded to have a mental break down that very night and just about every single night after that for the rest of the month and every night the following month of December.)

He went to a shrine on New Years. Saw the Sakura’s were there. Left immediately. Had another mental break down.

He started getting better again. Had a good therapy session. Went to get on the train. Wound up walking home when he saw the younger Niijima sister waiting in the line. Why hadn’t he just gotten on a different train car?

He tried to force himself to go get some fresh air when the sakura started blooming, but the first place he went he saw Kitagawa. He went back to his apartment. Shouldn’t have left in the first place.

--

He’s doing better now. His meds are doing their job. He hasn’t seen anyone from his past for weeks. He’s okay. He’s a perfectly functioning healthy 19-year-old who isn’t just going day to day on autopilot with no drive or ambition, or having PTSD induced nightmares almost every night, or having anxiety over the dumbest things that never would have bothered him before or--

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. HE’S FINE.

...

Someone is staring at him. Past their friends. Past the crowd. Right at him.

...

It’s Kurusu.

...

He’s not fine.

[dachis-demon]

Truth or Dare | Tsukishima

(Read the Start to have it make sense) Tsukishima Route. Other routes in 

truth or dare m.list

warnings: NSFW,  FEM!Reader, Hard degradation, spanking, choking, brat taming, light dumbification, Light humiliation kink, possession kink, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling

Word Count: 1.6k

Feeling like an idiot, you flush in embarrassment. "You have to tell us, it's what the rules say." Kiyoko speaks. "Fine, you guys suck. I like Tsukki. But don't tell him okay! I know he doesn't feel the same" You sigh, feeling self-pity for your anonymous feelings for the tall blonde. "Ha! Kiyoko you owe me lunch!" Yachi cheers, but then quickly quiets herself. "Okay, we won't tell him. Your turn." You could easily tell that they were up to something, but once again going against you better judgement, you ignore it. "Kiyoko, truth or dare?" A few rounds later, you could feel their eyes boring into you as they ask you the dreaded question. "Y/n. Truth or Dare?" you were unsure of what to pick, since they could get you either way. If you were to say truth, they would ask you something about him, like 'what your biggest fantasy was' and such, and if you chose dare, you were almost certain they would have you ask him out. Not wanting to be humiliated any more than you already were, you choose with your instincts instead of your brain. "Dare." looking you straight in the eye, Kiyoko picks the lewdest thing she could think of. "Show up to Tsukishima's house in lingerie." You jolt in shock, but you could already feel yourself getting aroused at the thought. "W-What?!" Not responding to your question, both girls walk into the secondary bedroom, and pull out a form fitting, lacey red one piece. They ushered you into the room and somehow got you into the exposing clothing, then you were suddenly shoved in front of a mirror to be examined. You were stunned to silence, eyes scanning anxiously over the lingerie. The see through material held your underwear up by having it connect from the sides of your stomach, and it left a hole everywhere in between, leaving little for the imagination. "I-I can't show up to Tsukki's in t-this!" You gesture to your body, which was seemingly getting sweatier by the second. "You have to, it was the dare." Squeezing your eyelids closed, you try to come up with a reason not to do this, something that would make the dare un-doable. "B-But, it's cold, and other people will see on the way there?" You stated, almost questioned. Yachi tossed a coat your way, watching as you become impossibly paler. Kiyoko helped you slide the coat over yourself, because you were clearly frozen in place from the fear of being seen in something as obscene as this. Your feet were walking now, without your permission, and you could feel more of your slick leak into the crotch of the panties from the slight possibility of something enjoyable happening.

The walk was still pretty chilly, even with the jacket you had draped over yourself. After all, your legs were still completely exposed to the wind, and the coat was thin. Your nipples were hardened when you arrived at his doorstep, the lace rubbing against them snugly. Yachi swiftly removed the item keeping your body concealed, while Kiyoko quickly rung the doorbell. While both ran off you felt ashamed, dirty, lewd, but that only enhanced whatever sick pleasure you were feeling in your core. The door swung open, making any color that had gone back into your face, drain once again. Keeping your eyes shut tightly, you prepared for yelling, using you hands to try and salvage what little dignity you had left. You could practically feel his searing hot gaze roam your body, and the touch of his large, warm hands settling on you waist make your eyes shoot wide open. Looking up at him, you could feel the blood finally return to your face, creating an evident blush that you knew he could notice. He leaned down right next to your ear and let his breath fan over your neck, before speaking. "What if it had been my brother to answer, huh? You want to take the risk of someone else seeing what's mine?" Tsukishima lets his hands travel down towards your ass, where they lift you up and spin you inside. His scent was hypnotizing, making the panties of your lingerie damper while he carried you to his bedroom. "Such a whore for showing up at my house like this. You're so damn lucky that my family aren't gonna be home tonight, we wouldn't want them hearing my cockslut moaning for me, would we now?" Setting you on his bed, He raised your legs to his shoulders, while he lifted one of his hands up his palm ran over every inch of your body, grazing over your nipples to draw a small squeal out of your lips, gliding down the bareness of your stomach, before sliding down into the crevices of your inner thigh. The mere thought of him touching your cunt made you hot all over, and even more desperate for his touch. Tsukki brought his fingers up your clothed heat, swiping to test the dampness of the underwear. "Already so wet, such a dirty little bitch for me." Finally speaking up, you decide to spice things up. "Who said it was for you?" You fire back, watching as he sharpens his glare. Flipping you over, you could tell that you had somewhat pissed him off with your remark, because seconds after he turned you over, his hand was slapping your ass relentlessly. "Okay, bratty whore, tell me who made you this turned on and I'll drop you off over there, ass sore and drenched in my cum. You can show him who you really belong to." He said through his teeth. You didn't know if you could keep up the disobedient act for long, but you were sure as hell going to try. You let out a fake laugh and looked back to face him. "You don't have the balls." Growling, he manhandled you into a new position, one that nearly had you folded in half. Kei gripped your throat, making it harder to breathe, but still possible. "What would you do if I just, put you back outside? All horny and dejected, wishing you had my cock splitting you open." His words sent a new wave of heat rushing throughout your body, your clit twitching in desire. But, you held your ground and came up with a comeback quickly. “I’d go to Kuroo’s house.” you croaked out, words slightly strained from his strong hold on your throat. “You think bad girl’s like you will get to cum? No, I’ll use you as my personal fucktoy, then I’ll leave you here, unsatisfied.” Smirking at him, you look down at his huge bulge and almost drool at the size, but you won’t let him know that. “You’d probably leave me unsatisfied either way.” Grunting, Tsukishima releases his hand from your throat to slide down his shorts and boxers, and you mentally panic at the length, knowing a dick like that could destroy you, but you keep up the calm façade. “We’ll see.” He slides your soaked panties to the side, eyeing the slick that moved with it, then strokes his cock a few times before lining up at your entrance. “Filthy whore, you don’t even need to be prepped with how wet you are.” Tsukki moves inside of your tight cunt, your pussy struggling to adjust to his long dick and your walls fluttering in pleasure. Once his tip pressed against your cervix, he gave you no time to enjoy the fulfilling feeling and started a harsh pace that made your eyes roll back into your head, and your tongue loll out in complete and utter bliss. 

“Apologize, bitchy brat.”  Kei groans, one hand placed under you on your ass, and the other spanking your thigh to reprimand you. “W-What?” You stammer, getting to lost in the pressure building in your abdomen. “I said, apologize, you dumb cockwhore. And maybe I’ll let you cum.” You whine. You could almost touch your release, but you knew if you came without his permission, a greater punishment would await you, and you didn’t know if you were ready to tackle that yet. “Please! I’m sorry! So so so sorry! Please let me cum Tsukki, I’m yours, only yours-ah!” Your speech was constantly broken up from all of Tsukishima’s powerful thrusts, his cock becoming to much for you to handle. “That isn’t my name, stupid brat.” You were slightly confused, because maybe you had been fucked so dumb that you didn’t remember to say his name correctly? “T-Tsukki?” Threading his fingers through your hair, he gave it a small yank. “First name.” He commands, your pussy throbbing at his demand. “Y-Yes Kei.” His hand slipped out from under you, pressing his thumb on your swollen and neglected clit as a reward. “Pretty please, I wanna cum! Kei please!” You plead, hips bucking into his with every delicious ram of his cock he granted you. Your cervix was perfectly battered from Tsukki’s excessive pounding, and you were so desperate to orgasm that you would do anything at this point. “Cum.” Letting the knot in your belly untie itself, you cum all over his cock, and the new slick leaking down his balls set him off as he came inside you a few short thrusts later. You felt his cock go soft inside of you slowly but surely, so he pulled out, taking one last look at your cunt, which was dripping with his seed and your cum, before falling beside you and pulling you into his chest. “Wear green next time, and we might have a problem.” 

[bubblybubbubs]

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1  2 

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings​ @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.  

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

-

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

-

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him  

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

-

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

-

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

-

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

-

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

[mandoalorian]

Today, Tomorrow, Always [Frankie Morales x F!Reader]

Summary: The nights were restless without Frankie by your side. He had left for South America a little over a month ago, promising he’d come back with more money to support your family. You didn’t want him to leave in the first place, but there was no changing his mind. You miss him. You’re worried about him. You just want him to come home. [Set after the events of Triple Frontier. Like, right after.]

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3000>

Masterlist

Reblogs appreciated coz this isn’t showing up in tags and I’m too tired to figure out why. xx

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

The love of your life. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and in that exact moment, you swore there was no statement truer. He’d been gone for a month and three days, your Frankie. You’d been shamelessly counting down until his return. No cell service in the jungles of South America, he’d warned you. He told you he’d be gone for two weeks max, and that you shouldn’t worry. He promised you he’d be fine.

But he was gone longer than two weeks, and you had no way to contact him. You were terrified, unable to help yourself from thinking the worst. Everything reminded you of him; the family photos scattered around your house, his cheap, tangy beers in the refrigerator, waiting to be drunk. Mostly though, your daughter. Maria was a newborn when he left, but now she was nearing two months. As you cradled her, your heart swelled with love. Same eyes as her father. Holding Maria only made you miss Frankie even more.

Religious or not, you would’ve prayed every night regardless. You prayed for his safety, and that he’d come home. You missed his warm hands and broad chest. You missed the way he’d tangle his fingers into your hair, and the faint smell of his musky cologne. Sometimes when you laid in bed, at night, you could still feel the ghost of his touch. Not a second went by where you weren’t dreaming about your Frankie.

This wasn’t the first time he and the guys would get involved in shady business. You wished he wouldn’t. He knew your feelings on it.

“I’m doing this for you and Maria.” he reminded you the morning he left. He took your hands and pressed soft yet chaste kisses across your knuckles. Everything he done, it was always for you and Maria.

Ever since Frankie had his piloting license revoked, things had been difficult. No job, no income. You had a job waitressing throughout your pregnancy but once you entered your third trimester, you were left with no choice but to take maternity leave. You, Frankie and Maria had been living out of your savings. And the savings were rapidly running out.

You knew better than to ask questions, but it was blatantly obvious that he’d accepted the mission in South America for a monetary reward. Or else, why would he go?

On a Thursday evening at around 7:30pm, the phone rang. You’d just put Maria to bed and you were sitting on the sofa, cradling one of your favourite fiction novels. Your eyes flicked towards the wall clock as you took a mental note of the time, wondering who could be calling you at this hour. Three more rings and you got up, padding towards the phone on the coffee table and picking it off the hook. The second you pressed it against the ear, you heard him.

Frankie.

“I didn’t get the money,” he announced over the phone, the line crackling slightly with the distance. No ‘hello’— no ‘how are you?’— just ‘I didn’t get the money.’ You were speechless. Not because of what he said, or what he didn’t say, but because he was alive. And safe, you assumed. Tears welled in your eyes as you processed the familiar sound of his voice. You hadn’t spoken to him in over a month, and so the low octave of his words were like the sweetest melody you’d ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

The guilt was eating him alive. He had to let you know in case you were expecting the money upon his return. He was so anxious, picking at his fingernails and anticipating your response. He had one job and he couldn’t even do that right.

He was broken. He’d done all of this, risked his life, just so he could earn a little cash to help support you and Maria. He’d left you for a month, and soon, he’d be returning with absolutely nothing. If you left him and took Maria with you, he wouldn’t even be surprised. He’d failed you. He’d failed Maria. He’d failed himself.

“Frankie,” you whispered, your shaky fingers curling around the plastic coated phone wire. He took a few breath, waiting for the worst to happen. “I’ve missed you so much.” you choked out, feeling your heart contract in your chest at the mere sound of his voice. What he was saying didn’t matter. No money? You couldn’t care less. Just the fact he was alive, speaking to you, was enough. All of Frankie’s nerves were immediately put to rest.

“I’ve missed you too.” Frankie confessed, his voice equally as soft as yours. As he marched through the freezing temperatures of the mountains and stormed through the humid temperatures of the jungles, he’d thought of you. When everyone else was camped out and sleeping by the fire, he couldn’t settle. He yearned to hold you, to kiss you and to love you. His month away from you only confirmed the feelings he’s been having for a long time.

“Where are you?” you sniffed, wiping away your tears and taking a deep (albeit shaky) exhale. You had to remain composed.

“Hawaii,” Frankie replied. “I’m calling from a public phone box and I think it’s gonna cut me off soon, but I’m catching a flight home first thing tomorrow,”

You smiled ecstatically, giving up and letting the warm tears free fall down you cheeks. Tomorrow? You were seeing him tomorrow? “I’m coming home, baby.” he confirmed, and you gasped out a sob over his good news.

“I love you so much,” you cried. “I love you Frankie. I— I love— I love you—“

“Don’t cry,” you heard him say. “I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. Is Maria okay?”

“She misses her daddy so much. Frankie, we’ve missed you so much.” you revealed, your smile now aching your cheeks. But you didn’t care.

“My two girls. I love you. I love you today, tomorrow, always. Wait for me, hermosa, I’ll see you soon.” Frankie promised before the line went dead.

He muttered out a curse word and kicked the phone box in frustration. Frankie jumped slightly, feeling Santiago rest a comforting hand on Frankie’s shoulder. He’d somehow manage to shift into the phone box to be alongside Frankie, needing the privacy. “You sure about this, bud?” Santiago quizzed, presenting Frankie with a velvet ring box. Frankie took the box and slid it into his jean pocket.

He managed to hit a jewellery store just an hour ago before they had all closed. He picked out a diamond ring, just for you. It was simple but elegant (or so he hoped. Frankie didn’t have the greatest judgement when it came to jewellery and what looked good or not). He was drawn to it because it was similar to the only other engagement ring he’d ever seen. The ring that belonged to his mother. If you didn’t like it, he’d be fine with returning it until you’s could afford a better one, but the ring was more than just something to make your finger look pretty.

It was a symbol of promise.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.” Frankie sighed into admittance.

Santiago nodded, his heart blooming over the fact his best friend had finally found happiness. Frankie had been through a lot, but you’d saved him, in every sense of the word. Santiago knew that better than anyone else.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Frankie called you that morning from the airport, just before he caught his plane. You barely slept a peep that night, excited to finally see him again. The love of your life. Your Frankie. You had a rough idea as to when he’d return; maybe 5 or 6ish. That’s what he’d told you. And you believed him because, well, he was a pilot. He could judge these kinds of things.

‘5 or 6ish’ gave you plenty of time to plan a little something for Frankie. It was hard, but you refrained from texting his family and calling your friends because you knew they’d all want to see him. As selfish as it sounded, you didn’t care, you at least just wanted one night alone with him where he could be all yours. No one else to fuss over him, just you. You deserved that much.

You could cook his favourite meal, pick out his favourite record, blow up some balloons, light some candles and dress in his favourite set of lingerie.

You wanted to make everything perfect.

Frankie came home at 2pm, and shamefully, you were still in your pyjamas. He’d told a little white lie about what time he’d be home because he wanted to surprise you. And you were definitely surprised. When he stepped through the front door, clean shaven with glazed eyes, it was like your feet were glued to the floor and you couldn’t move. It was strange, really. You’d always envisioned this moment where you’d run into his arms and give him a big, passionate kiss, but that’s not what happened at all.

Just a few days ago, you were thinking you might never see him again, but here he was, standing before you like the angel of your dreams. And the first thing you said...

“You shaved!” you cried out accusingly, your eyes going comically wide. Frankie chuckled and your heart clenched in your chest.

“What do you think?” he laughed, walking towards you and putting his bag on the floor. You raised your hands to cup his cheeks and feel the softness of his skin.

“Oh Frankie,” you whispered, a single tear slipping down your cheek, but Frankie was quick enough to catch it and wipe it away. “It’s really you. You’re really home.”

“Yes my love, I’m home.” he said, pulling you into a warm bear hug. His big arms squeezed your body tight. If he’d gone any harder, he might have crushed you, but you wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else in the world.

“Being away from you for so long made me realise something. Home isn’t a place, it’s a person. It’s you. Any doubts I once had are now completely diminished and I know, for sure, I love you. I love you today, tomorrow, always. And I want to promise that to you, so, if you’ll let me...” Frankie dropped down to one knee and reached into his pocket, bringing out the velveteen ring box he’d purchased in Hawaii. “I promise to never leave your side, or Maria’s, ever again. You two are everything I could ever need. Any difficulties we encounter, I know we’ll be okay as long as we have each other, and I promise to swear my life to our little family. So, my love, would you do me the honour of being mine forever? Will you marry me?”

His brown eyes were so warm, they burned you. This was a moment you had only pictured in dreams. Without even taking a second to think about it, you already knew the answer. You’d always known the answer.

“Yes,” you nodded ecstatically. “Yes Frankie, I’ll marry you.”

And the grin that plastered his face was like nothing you’d ever seen before. He was absolutely delighted and he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his life, apart from, maybe when Maria was born. He was pretty damn happy that day too.

Frankie slid the diamond ring on your finger and it fit perfectly. It looked good too. Maybe Frankie had a better eye for jewellery than he’d though. “Do you like it? Because if you don’t, we can save up and get it exchanged.”

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped, eventually tearing your gaze from your fiancé so you could admire the way the diamond sparkled under the lights. “I don’t want to get it exchanged. I love it. It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” he cooed, swaying backwards and forwards. When you looked back up at him, his cheeks were flushed an adorable pink.

You crashed your lips into his and wrapped your arms around his body.

“I love you so much Frankie Morales.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Today, tomorrow, always.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[hanibalistic]

#67509E | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | fluff

word count | 1889

warning | appearances of vampire fangs, mention of blood sucking

tag | @fluffyskzclub​

note | i miss hyunjin.

hyunjin pouted like he was throwing a tantrum—well, to a certain degree, he was throwing a small tantrum.

he curled himself around the fluffy blanket that you two left on the couch from yesterday's spontaneous movie night as he pouted at you bitterly. he tried to fit his tall body within the blanket, but his long legs awkwardly jutted out of the end corner, unable to bend enough to curl himself into a tiny ball. his head poked out of the blanket he draped around his shoulder and over his head.

"must you open the curtains all the time?" he whined with furrowed brows, lightly kicking his feet against the couch. "i hate the sun, you know that!"

you rolled your eyes as you closed the curtains after being drowned in his mindless complaints about the last half an hour. you had opened them so the plants could soak in some sunlight. you even took into consideration that hyunjin would be asleep for longer like he always does, otherwise, you would have never let the sunlight into your shared apartment. but for some reason, he decided to leave his stupid coffin earlier today.

to listen to the birds' chirp perhaps. that's the kind of leisure activity a hundred-year-old would like, you bet.

the same thing happens every time you open the blinds, which is that hyunjin does not shut up about him disliking the sun and how it weakens his vampirism as opposed to it actually killing him. he would not stop until you close the curtains and turn on the lights, which often made you scoff. not only was he annoying, for a vampire who was supposed to burn under the sun, he sure does speak of it a lot.

"we will need sunlight somehow, hyunjin," you said as you turned around to glare at him. "the plants you stole, from outside, in the morning, will need sunlight."

you emphasized your words to make sure he knew of all the heinous frustrations he has caused you. the puppy pout on his face, as well as the pitying glint in his eyes, only deepened with each emphasis of your voice, his body flinching and shrinking when he could tell that you were upset with him.

watching him, there was a rush of conflict brewing like bubbles in you. you weren't sure if you felt more annoyed or endeared about the fact that hyunjin, a not quite literally ancient but old enough to feel ancient vampire, gained such comfortability from you that he was fine with throwing a childish tantrum in front of you.

he looks cute, surely! he always does. but sometimes, you genuinely could not stand another second of him whining.

"stop yelling at me! you know what the sun does to a vampire!" he retorted.

oh, god—blah, blah, blah.

"yeah, a vampire that doesn't have an accessory of the sigil," you said cleverly as you moved over to him. you yanked the blanket off his body, ignoring his protest, and you pointed at his neck. "like the necklace you never take off!"

"i only got this recently! the witch would have never sold me this if you hadn't come with me," he argued, pulling the blanket around him again. "i'm not used to the sun yet, just let me have a little more time."

you pursed your lips together, your neck turning sour at his poor mumble as you softened. he did only just get the necklace—by just, it was about two to three months ago. however, while that alone may seem like a long period, comparing that to almost a whole decade of no sunlight, perhaps he really just needed more time to adjust.

but! zooming past the streets, leaving normal people wondering where the sudden gust of wind came from, and hiding in the apartment that leaves no room for any traces of sunlight was not the way to go about it!

"how about just a little bit, hmm?" you said then, suggesting a compromise casually while you walked toward the window. "take it little by little!"

hyunjin widened his eyes in disbelief as you moved farther away from him. he shook his legs in protest, his body moving animatedly on the cushiony couch as he protested loud and clear. "hey! you better not open the curtains, [name]!"

you grabbed the hem of the curtains, your mind occupied with calculating the correct amount you would flip open. it has to be a very small amount, to a point where the sunlight could only hit one leaf of the plant on the window rail, or just one square of your marble floor. it has to be the form of sunlight that could not hurt even a fly, so you could show him just how goddamn dramatic he was being.

"[name], i swear!"

"oh, bite me," you muttered under your breath.

there was a gust of wind—a familiar kind. it blew at the tip of your hair, making it waft around, and the hem of your thin shirt also danced at the breeze of hyunjin's vampiric speed.

blinking consciously, you loosened your grip on the curtains and turned around. immediately, upon feeling the heat of his face, you flinched back and closed your eyes to settle yourself.

"jesus–what the hell, hyunjin?" you muttered with a hand on your chest before you slowly opened your eyes.

hyunjin was glaring at you; no malice, just alluring intensity. his hair fell over his face prettily. the sunlight that he didn't seem to care much for now shone a soft haze over half of his face, making him glow and glitter naturally.

"those are some reckless words to say to a vampire," he said lowly, tilting his head to the side lightly as he arched a brow, "don't you think?"

your heart pounced.

the matter of blood, or just his general nature as a vampire, like his need to feed off of human beings, has only come up once.

he mentioned it to you when he was applying to be your roommate, having a foul plan to erase your memories in case the truth was not well-received by you. he told you that he has been a vampire for a while so he knew how to control his urges, therefore you would not be in any harm, and the matter was never spoken of again.

he held up his words. he has never discussed blood with you, he has never shown any blood-thirsty behavior at all. he acted like any other roommates you have had; being too loud at night, eating cereal in the living room and eyeing your bed-head with a judgemental gaze, knocking at your door and asking if you wanted to pick a takeout place.

if he used his powers less, you would have forgotten about his vampiric side.

why was your heart thumping then? was he too pretty for your own good? or was he standing too close for familiar comfort? or perhaps both?

you scoffed, making your thoughts vanish. "you won't bite me."

hyunjin softened in a way you couldn't catch. deep within the tender wash of his eyes was a sea of wildfires he hid behind closed doors.

you were right, he won't bite you, but he wants to, especially because the smell of your blood happened to be more enticing than others because he likes you.

the art of blood sharing (in a sense) is done between lovers; consider it like leaving a love mark, of a sort. it is an act of claiming and reassurance, and hyunjin has been wanting to sink his fangs into your flesh for a while so he could leave a bite mark.

but he could never do that. that was a desire trapped in his throat, urging to be let out and to be voiced, and hyunjin would not allow it. there were too many risks of unleashing the deep-seated yearning in his chest. it lingered in his head in withdrawal, cautiously threading through his mind to keep his urges contained.

he puts his want elsewhere. his want to taste your blood, to kiss your neck, has to grow somewhere, so he has to put it somewhere, and he puts in it his daydream which that manifests gently when he is with you, and ferociously when you were away.

"i won't," he muttered under his breath, to which you relaxed at. but then he grinned, and he opened his mouth to speak first, "doesn't mean i can't, though."

you widened your eyes when black veins draped beneath his eyes and his sharp fangs appeared. it was a terrifying sight, but you were only shocked to see it than scared. rationally, you reached your hands up and slapped your palms against his cheeks, startling him.

"hmmm... " you grumbled, sounding thoughtful as you surveyed his shocked expression.

the veins under his eyes retreated and the colors returned to his face. the innocence flooded back into him, bright and boyish, and he dared not move an inch under the pressure of your gaze—beneath your touch hyunjin is but a gentle boy hapless in love.

"ah...aah...wha–" he closed his eyes slightly and opened them with furrowed brows, confused and helpless with his head slightly tilted up. his words were muffled but jot too hard to understand. "[name]–why–uhh–"

you pushed at his upper lip with your thumb and looked at his fangs, wondering why they did not retreat with the dark haze of his eyes. then, ignoring hyunjin's muffled questions, you carefully poked at the tip of his teeth—razor-sharp, but very real.

he was whining again. his hands reached out to the hem of your shirt and desperately, as well as timidly, tugged at it. meanwhile, he put on a defeated face. as much as he would with your thumbs poking his fangs, that was.

"ahh, please stop–[name], stop touching my fangs–why," he feigned a sob, shaking his head as a blush reached his cheeks, "they're just teeth."

"teeth that puncture," you commented when you let go. the way your thumbs briefly smoothed over his top lip was not lost on him.

seeing his pout, you pursed your lips with faint guilt. rubbing the back of your neck, you shrugged. "sorry about that, i just got curious."

"it's okay," he waved you off quickly, "i was curious too when i first got them."

hyunjin looked at you when you giggled under your breath; soft, hearty giggles that tried to conceal themselves without the anticipation for his vampiric hearing. gentle, funny giggles that never once questioned his problematic past. lovely, adoring giggles that are here before and after he revealed who he is to you.

he came to your apartment begging for a home where he could be himself, and you allowed him safety with you.

"alright," you said with a curt smile, "i'm going to go change, need to get grocery."

"i–i'll come with!"

you seemed shocked for a moment, accessing him like a trick question. then you relaxed and nodded with nonchalance. "yeah, whatever."

he melted despite the lackluster reaction. it was the excitement that counted. smiling to himself, he twirled and twisted his body shyly as the sun shone from outside.

yeah. hyunjin truly is but a simple boy in love with you.

[1994sunflower]

Hey! First of all, I love your story SO MUCH, you’re such an amazingly talented writer! Also, I was wondering if you could dig deeper into Micheal’s soft side (never get tired of it) in which maybe Y/N is sick, like she collapses for high fever or something, and he has to take care of her

thank you so much!! and ofc, I love exploring michael's soft side. he can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be (which is like never lol).

in which you’re sick

It would have been bearable if it was just exam week. You’d done that a million times. But the fact that you were also doing grad school applications along with your extracurriculars - suddenly you felt as if there was not enough hours in the day. In a week even.

Even with the sacrifices you’d made. You’d taken to forgetting food times. When you did remember, you’d have to eat during one of your other activities, usually studying and that just led to spills and half eaten food. It had only been about a week into these habits that you had gotten sick with a cold. It wasn’t a surprise, you were overworked, exhausted - no wonder your immune system was depleted. But it made your work and concentration that much more difficult, you’d cried more than once at the circumstances.

But maybe the hardest has been forgoing seeing your beloved boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was a nuisance, it was just that he was distracting and right then, you didn’t have to time to deal with distractions. Lest he succeed in distracting you like he so often does.

It’s been nearly two weeks since the last time you saw him. Something he agreed very begrudgingly to. But he knew how important your grades were so he agreed nonetheless. You texted him nearly hourly but still it felt nothing like having his comforting presence right next to you. It might have been the reason you caved and let him come visit you after he insisted. Not that he likely would have accepted your denial. He missed you just as much and he needed to see you, especially with how worried he was starting to become.

He used the excuse of bringing you lunch and you, weak and missing him, accepted it, knowing he would probably try to stay for much longer than just that.

But you could deal with that and him firmly when it came to that. He always listened to you.

You were at your desk, crumpled papers beside you, tissues, and about ten different tabs open on your computer, with the beginnings of one of your many application essays open on your tablet. You kept alternating between the two works and by the end of it, you almost felt a hysterical scream wanting to leave you. Nothing was good enough.

When you heard the keys clinking at the door, was the only time you had snapped out of your almost unhealthy focus on your work. By the time you realized just how awful you look, it was too late. Your hair was in a ponytail, different strands already falling out of the scrunch by how much you tugged at your hair in frustration. You wore no makeup and the bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. The sick pallor to your face was probably so much more obvious, if the sniffles and occasional cough didn’t give your sickness away. Not to mention the pajamas that still adorned your body.

But Michael had already opened the door before you could even think of last minute changes to your appearances. All you could do was turn around in your chair to face him, clearing your throat in hopes of pushing back any coughs.

Just as it’d been nearly 2 weeks without seeing him, it’d been 2 weeks of you living this mentally drained lifestyle. And you looked it. Not that it mattered. Michael had never made you feel insecure or anything but the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. He loved you, no matter how you looked.

And that was proven when he finally took you in after 2 weeks of not seeing you. His eyes shone with the same love they always held when he looked at you, now with also a sense of relief at finally being right with you. No hint of judgement.

There was a third emotion there too. Worry. But you didn’t have time to try to dissect it because you knew it would just lead him to get you to take a break and lose time you could be spending on working.

Normally you’d be the one who greeted him first, excitedly. But you were too tired to hold that same energy and you hadn’t used your voice for anything other than frustrated groans. All you could do was smile weakly when Michael lifted the bag of food in his hands. The action made you swoon just a bit, you knew it was likely his first time being so attentive to someone, going beside himself to make sure they’re fed and bring it to them. He never would have the same detail with anyone else.

“Got your favorite.” Michael gravely voice finally hit your ears and you had to close your eyes for a second. You’d missed him, much more than you had allowed yourself to think of.

Opening them back up took more effort than you wanted to think of. It seemed that now that you weren’t hyper focused on the work in front of you, the mental tiredness you had been ignoring was finally starting to seep in.

When you stood, you had meant to say a ‘thank you’ before walking over to serve your food but the moment you got to your feet, you felt a wave of dizziness overtake you. Your body swayed for a moment, only stopping when one of your feet that had almost lost its footing, stomped down and you took a hold of the back of the chair you just left. Eyes closed tightly to try to center yourself.

When you opened your eyes, Michael was staring at you with wide eyes, intense with the worry that had been there before much more prominent. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, coughing slightly despite yourself. “Yeah, sorry. I think I might just be hungry.” You tried for a giggle to lessen the mood but Michael didn’t smile or relax at all. His eyes just raked in your figure.

“Are you sick?” That would have been bad enough but if he knew you were sick and didn’t tell him so he could have made sure you were okay, all hell might break loose.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to make myself look better today, okay?” Your tone was a lot snappier than you intended for it to be and that he expected, as evidenced by him rearing back in surprise. You were just so tense. But instead of apologizing you just made your way over to him. No wobbling, no swaying. You were fine.

You didn’t want to deal with defending how you took care of yourself (or rather how you didn’t). You didn’t have time anyway. You’d barely have time to eat what he brought you but the least you could do was eat a bit of it.

“It smells great.” You sniffled. You tried to reach for your food but Michael moved the bag back. His eyes never left you, analyzing every little move you made. It was unnerving. You couldn’t imagine how others withstood his gaze whenever he was angry at them.

“Y/N-” You made an impatient sound. Every time he said your first name, he was serious. And somehow, right then, it made you defensive. “You said you only needed a few weeks to focus on your shit and that you’d be fine without me having to check on you.”

“I am fine.” You muttered yet you couldn’t quite meet his eyes when you said it.

“Yeah? Is that why you got dizzy just from fucking standing up?” His words were harsh and loud but you knew it was because he never really figured out how to show concern any other way. He was worried.

“I told you, I’m just hungry. I didn’t have breakfast today.” But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say because you saw his eyes flare up with even more concern and anger. But right then, after spending days multitasking and still not even making a dent on the work you needed completed before your rapidly approaching deadline, you were able to match those emotions.

“Michael, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you today, okay? I’m busy and if I’d known you came here to judge everything I’m doing I would have told you not to come. I’m doing my best! Why is that….why…”

It was getting hotter in the room. You’d felt the warmth all day - week even - but as your anger and voice rose, so did the temperature. You barely had time to register the light headedness.

Your breath was shaky by the time you finished your rant and your eyes becoming suddenly distant as you looked around, confused, before you were falling backwards. You would’ve hit the ground if Michael hadn’t moved first and caught you in his arms.

You didn’t hear the frantic calls of your name, more scared than perhaps anyone had ever heard him, the apathetic man he was, sound. You didn’t feel the way Michael’s hands gripped your body, trying not to move you too much lest he do more damage. You didn’t feel the same dropping of his heart when he saw you go down and the freezing fear in his veins. The only thing you felt was his huge, shaky, sigh of relief when you opened your eyes a handful of seconds later.

With much effort, fluttering them to try to keep them open. You couldn’t really see what was in your line of vision, everything was so blurry. Eventually, it was too much effort and you kept them closed, but you felt yourself being picked up and carried. His heartbeat was fast, you felt as he carried you with your face pressed against his chest.

The first movement you made when he finally put you down on the soft bed was furrow your eyebrows, then your hand was rubbing your face. By the time you opened your eyes, confusion set in “What…?”

You didn’t finish when you looked beside you, seeing Michale on his knees next to the bed to be on your level. He looked paler than you’d ever seen him, eyes wide and watching you like a hawk.

It was then that it hit you that you didn’t really know how it ended up that he carried you into your room. You remember getting mad at him, the warmth that slowly overtook you, then the next thing you knew, you were in his arms.

Panic struck you next. How much time had you wasted? You had a final paper due by the end of the week. You had to submit an application in two days.

But when you attempted to sit up, much too fast if your dizzying head was anything to go by, Michael pushed you back down. No longer trying to negotiate with you. His eyes shown fiercely - letting it known that there was no room for compromise.

You couldn’t stop the four coughs that escaped you as you stared at him, pleadingly.

“Don’t.”

“But I have to-”

“You just fainted, Y/N.” Michael almost sounded mad but the waver in his voice gave away his true emotions. “You’re sick and your body’s exhausted, obviously. You’re not going to do shit. You’re going to rest and I’ll…handle it. Contact your professors or whatever so…don’t worry about deadlines or anything.”

His voice made it clear there was no point in fighting against him. Even though his relationships with professors was less than friendly and he never cared enough to ask for extensions for anything before in his life.

He took your hand in his big ones, dropping his head to rest his forehead on top of your fingers. As gentle as you’d ever seen him. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”

You didn’t answer for a long time and you were grateful that he wasn’t looking at you anymore so he couldn’t see the way your eyes filled with tears and your lip wobbled. You didn’t mean to scare him, or neglect yourself. But if you took the time to do anything else, you’d be behind. You were so tired.

“I d-don’t know.” You said as a few hot tears ran down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

You felt his hands brush some of your hair from your face softly. “You scared me.” He admitted and somehow, you knew that for Michael, admitting that weakness was hard. But he didn’t mind being vulnerable in front of you.

His eyes bore into you, almost too intensely for you to be able to handle. Until his hand came up to your forehead and you found the excuse to close your eyes so you wouldn’t have to watch the worry in his.

“You have a fever.” He got up and you didn’t even get the chance for your sluggish brain to wonder where he went before he was already back, carrying a small bowl of water with a rectangular mini-towel on top. You weren’t sure how he knew exactly what to do for you, how he seemed so soft and tender in these actions that were so unlike him.

He put the cool, wet towel on your forehead as he sat next to your lying form on the bed. He was so close to you, leaning over you. You were scared he would get sick because of you but when you finally opened your mouth to speak again and told him so, he ignored you. As if that was the last thing he was worried about.

From the moment you collapsed, his attention had been on you and nothing else. Nothing else mattered in his mind. And that translated in every attentive action that made you feel so taken care of. This side of your brash boyfriend, the caring, delicate side at a time when you needed it most nearly brought tears in your eyes. It made it very obvious that despite what he might seem to everyone else, he was the perfect boyfriend, would make the perfect husband. For you. He made you feel supported and at home even when your body and energy seemed to be turning their backs on you.

“I’m hungry, Mikey.” You tugged at his sleeve. You weren’t sure if you were, really. You’d gotten used to the pulsing headache from the lack of food throughout the week. But judging by the heaviness of your eyelids, threatening to close and the weakness in your body, in your energy, if you didn’t eat, you might shut down again.

Your voice was croaky but he didn’t comment on it. His answer was almost automatic, “I’ll get the soup I brought you.”

You’d almost forgotten why he had been there in the first place. He’d insisted because he had missed you. And you missed him. He came to take care of you, going out of his way to do what he would never do for anyone else, just never imagining you were at your limit.

It was almost embarrassing. Being in your weakened state in front of him and having him tend to you like a child. Especially when, sitting up in your bed with a disorientation and a feeling of tiredness that seemed to be the only things you could truly feel at the moment. Plus the muted feeling of stress that never seemed to go away; it was screaming that you should be doing your work, that you’d fall behind.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it before Michael came back with a bowl of warm soup in his hands and sat next to you again. Saving you even from your own thoughts without realizing it. He placed the soup on your nightstand and it wasn’t until he began to get a spoonful that you realized he meant to actually spoon feed you.

To think of your boyfriend doing anything so nurturing seemed almost unnatural. Yet here he was, without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. It was such as mismatch from his personality, his reputation and it melt your heart to think that he cared about you so much to throw all of that away for you and his worry for you.

You could only manage a feeble, “You don’t have to…”

Michael stared at you silently for a while, not a decipherable emotion seen in his face, before bringing the spoonful of soup up to your lips. “I want to.”

And while you knew Michael wasn’t a big talker, those three words dripped with sincerity. Matching the loving actions and gestures he was currently doing for you. It was clear, if it wasn’t already before, that nothing was more important than being there for you when you needed him the most.

He didn’t let you talk again until you finished the food, feeding you each sip. Until he was satisfied that you had eaten enough to compensate for your lack of nutrients the weeks he spent without you. This was just as new to him as it was for you to see, this side of him. Doing things that he never would have dreamed of doing for someone else. But it felt like second nature when he saw the woman he loved more than anything else in such a vulnerable state. He yearned to take care of you, to provide for you. To keep you happy and healthy. Especially with how often you take care of him.

“Was it good?” He asked. Though he knew you would’ve liked it. If not simply for the fact that you hadn't eaten much else then certainly for the fact that he went out of his way to go to your favorite restaurant and pick your favorite item from their menu. The one you got every time he took you there.

You nodded, “Thank you.”

You weren’t expecting it when Michael enveloped you into a hug. So tightly you couldn’t even hug him back even after you got over the shock. His face was buried in your tangled, messy hair. He breathed you in as if taking in the fact that you were okay, he mumbled into your hair, “I know how much you care about school and how hard you try because of that but….none of that shit matters compared to you.”

It was so hard for him to be without you for so long. But he did it for you, to give you the time you had asked for to focus on your work. It had never occurred to him the bad mental state the solitude could leave you in, what it would do to your physically. If he had known, he never would have let you be alone. He would’ve fought you tooth and nail if it was what it took but he would have checked up on you, been there for you. And that’s exactly what he’ll be doing from now on. He’ll be there for you.

“Get some rest,” He reluctantly let you go. “You need to sleep.”

When Michael got up, though you were objectively much too warm because of your fever, you felt a lonely cold. You didn’t want him to stay away so you could study and work anymore. You needed him and all the comfort he brought to your soul. And he didn’t want to leave you anymore either.

“Mikey!” You called to him as he switched off the light to your room. You heard him hum in answer. “Don’t leave, please.”

He didn’t answer you. But you felt him get into bed beside you, kicking off his shoes as if it wasn’t the middle of the day - as if he had nothing else he would rather do than sleep right then next to you. And by the way he put his entire day on hold the minute he saw your condition, you guessed he didn’t. You had an inkling that while you had every intention of not letting him distract you when he had first arrived, that he had already been planning on staying the entire day anyway.

You were glad he did. You wouldn’t have been able to keep going the way you were if he hadn’t forced you to confront your self-neglect and tended to you with such dedication and love.

Both of you were silent and you could feel your tired body begin to drift to sleep when your boyfriend spoke up from beside you. “Promise me you’ll start looking after yourself, no matter how stressed or how much stuff you have to do. Promise.”

You weren’t snuggled into him like you would want. But you could feel him on his side, staring at you in the dark. His voice was serious with a hint of desperation. He needed to hear you say it. To know that his loved one would never be put in such a mistreated circumstance ever again, you didn’t deserve it. Nothing deserved to have you feeling anything but cherished, healthy and confident. Not even yourself. Because he believed in you so completely.

Though he never planned on leaving your side, emotionally or physically, to have any negativity enter your thoughts or habits ever again. He was willing to carry the weight of the world if it meant you would feel the strength and happiness that had been beat out of you.

“I promise.” Your words were small but it was good enough. Michael took you in his arms then, again not caring for any risk he was running of getting sick himself.

The next time you spoke, it was mumbling against his shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I must’ve looked so gross because I didn’t really get ready all week and I-”

“Shut up.” His words held absolutely no bite, they were whispered. “I don’t give a damn what you looked like today. You never look bad to me. I only cared about making sure you were okay. And I’ll keep being here to make sure, I’m never leaving you alone again. I promise. No matter what you say.”

Your heart felt so full at his sweet words, just for you.

Then it was back to the comfortable silence. Until you began coughing again, this time against his chest and you tried to pull away quickly, both scared for his health and embarrassed. “Michael, seriously, you’ll get sick.”

But Michael’s strong arms were like steel bracketing you to his body. Unmoving despite your protests. He only cared about finally keeping you to him, where he knew he could protect you and keep you close, especially after so long without you and having your health deteriorate because he wasn't around.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll get my own class extensions then if I do.” He said it seriously, and knowing his academic achievement, or lack thereof, you didn’t doubt he meant it.

But still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, knowing he was smiling right alongside you without even having to see it. It felt foreign, laughing after so long of your negative thoughts and stressed lifestyle but nice especially because of all those things. A positive, carefree spirit that filled you because of your loving boyfriend and being so cocooned in his protection right at that moment.

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 4 - As The Snow Fell

[Thank you so much to everyone that has read, liked and re-blogged the chapters and master list of my fanfic so far, I really appreciate all the support!]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: You’ve barely even set foot into the village and have already had a taste of the unusual residents and otherworldly beings. Is there anyone that you can trust?

Trigger Warnings: Threat, theft.

Soundscape Ambience Suggestions:

Medieval Ruins Ambience

Quiet Tavern Ambience

[Photos are my own]

You woke with a start, the white canvas of the morning sky blinding you as a crow cawed from above. You cast you gaze about bleary eyed, taking in your surroundings. You were back at your camp, but mightily dishevelled, half your clothes on, half off, and various parts exposed to the elements. The last embers of the fire burned, soft wafts of smoke dying down.

What the hell happened last night? You wondered, casting your thoughts back and rubbing your face, feeling almost as if you had a hangover. Fixing your clothes, you turned your attention to your equipment and the camp. Anything that wasn’t necessary to have on you today you bagged back up into your luggage bag and pushed into the hollow of the tree that you had camped against; mostly some clothing, sleeping bag, tarpaulin… you paused as you got to the bow that the Duke had gifted to you, eyeing it up. As much as you felt safer with it, today you would have to try to be inconspicuous, and this weapon was not going to help with that. You stuffed it hastily as far bag into the hollow as you could, hooking it on a knot on the inside of the tree so that it hung safely, completely out of view, and then threw leaves over the bag.

The distance seemed shorter this time going towards the cliff edge that overlooked the village. You took out your binoculars from a pouch on your hip and got down onto your stomach to scout the area. From where you were you could easily see the castle with its spiky turrets in the distance, slightly shrouded by a fine mist at this hour. If it weren’t for the whole situation that you were in and the very obvious unease that this place was already causing you, you’d have maybe even called this gothic monster ‘beautiful’. Leading up to it were many small houses, each made slightly differently to the next, but somehow all similar. Some with thatched roofs, some tile, some metal. You were only at the brink of this village, but you could sense poverty from here, being used to living in a modern world and never feeling like you’d had to struggle too much for food or material needs. Your eyes were drawn to a route that should give you access easily into the village by way of going behind some of the closer buildings, and with a quick sweep, checking that no one was currently about, you decided to go now.

The village had a spattering of snow, less than a foot for sure, and for the most part it had been trodden down and thinned. Coming up to the first house you crouched down behind a small brick wall, which looked as though it had started to tumble over. Again, you couldn’t see anyone here, but you could definitely hear livestock; a pig and maybe some chickens. Peering over the top of the wall towards the house you noticed a washing line, its contents bouncing slowly in the slight breeze. There were yellowed white briefs, a petty coat, bonnets, a dress made out of material that looked itchier than it looked practical, and also a hooded cloak. You pondered for a moment if taking an entire line of clothes to disguise yourself was a good idea or not and then decided against it; you whipped the cloak down, it being very dull and drab in both colour and fabric, with no distinguishing features, and threw the large hood up over your head. It was big enough even to hide your eyes, the swells of fabric wrapping around your arms and body, providing more warmth as well as what you hoped would deter anyone from making too much notice of you. Your boots and trousers were visible, from the knee down, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing the centre, you started to hear the sounds you’d expect to hear in a small village like this. The day was light enough to see everything clearly; a statue of a lady holding a sword and shield. Something about it sent a shiver down your back. It wasn’t that it looked creepy, it just felt… familiar somehow. This looked as though it was perhaps the centre of the village; a woman sat on a bench knitting, a couple of children played with a stick and hoop. That felt weird too. It was the turn of the millennium, and yet here children were playing with really outdated toys. A little way up you could see a hill rising with some gravestones dotted here and there to the left of it. Already you could feel the eyes of the children staring at you and the quiet clacking of the knitting needles had stopped. Keeping your head down, you carried on walking, your feet choosing to take you up the small hill, past the gravestones. You passed a strange wooden shine on your right, not daring to turn your head to look at the details right now, for you’d hoped that they people here might assume that you were one of them thus letting you become invisible. You’d had undercover jobs before that you’d excelled at, but things felt very different here. Every step you took made the feeling of foreboding grow stronger in you. Up ahead was a door depicting two characters, one looked like a woman, the other, you weren’t too sure, but it looked sturdy and as though it might lead to the great castle, so that didn’t seem like you’d be unnoticed if you tried that door. To the right a long alley way, but it looked to lead away from the village, and to the right again the iron gates into the grounds of a small church, with a bubble of people emerging from its doors now. Yes, you had to lay low and try not to turn heads, but you also needed information, maybe if you passed through this crowd as if you were going somewhere you could eavesdrop some clues.

You made your way over and saw a man dressed like a vicar of sorts standing at the church doors while the villagers left, his hands raised in the air and a grin on his face. His eyes were eerily shadowed with darkness, but this didn’t seem to deter his congregation.

“Thank you for coming to today’s assembly to pay our respects to our beloved saviour, Mother Miranda. Volunteers and the Heretic’s Judgement are to be held tomorrow at Mother’s church.”

Just then you accidentally bumped right into someone emerging from the crowd, the impact making you both exhaled audibly, and the villager dropping their item to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You asked, seeing her face as she looked up to see whom she had bumped into. You mentally kicked yourself for being automatically nicely mannered when you could have just trundled past. Instead, you stopped to pick up what you saw now to be a small bouquet of flowers, seeing her smiling at you as you handed them to her.

“Oh yes, I’m quite alright.” She said warmly. She looked to be in her forties with grey blue eyes, mousy brown hair and bangs. “Are you?”

You were taken aback for a moment; you didn’t expect anyone to ask how you were. In all honesty you’d been better. “No damage done.” You smiled, making sure to pull the cloak over any item of clothing that might give you away for being from further afield than the next village or so. The church doors had closed, and the rest of the crowd had now disbanded into the rest of the village.

“You look to me like you could do with a hot meal and a warm bath. If you beg my pardon for saying so.” She took a step back and extended her hand. “I’m Luiza by the way.”

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking it. Is this a good idea? You asked yourself, but you couldn’t help but trust the woman.

“I was just about to lay these down in the cemetery, if you’d like to join me Y/N.” Luiza offered, indicating to the small bouquet. There was a look in her eyes, like she was trying to tell you something.

“Yes of course.”

The two of you made your way a little past the church and through some more iron gates, this time into a space that was on a slight slope with a couple of crypts and tombs. Checking around her to make sure that no one else was around, Luiza turned her eyes back to you slowly.

“You’re not from here.” She stated. You swallowed.

“No, I’m from the next town over, I’m passing through to –“

“Please. You’re not from here, your accent, your boots… but your eyes, your eyes are what really gave it away. If you’d ever lived near here, you’d never have the damn nerve to even come.” She waved a hand in the air, and yet looked remorsefully subdued. You didn’t quite know what to say.

You looked down to the ground, shame seeping in as if from the snow at your feet.

“I’m searching for a friend.” You said solemnly. “He’s here somewhere, at least, I think. I think that he came here on a lead; whether he’s here to help someone or it’s to do with something that concerns us… I’m not sure. But he’s been gone a while now, and I’d like to get him back home.” Saying it made it all the more real, and you could feel your throat growing tight. The whole time that you’d been speaking Luiza had listened intently, yet her face remained soft. Something twinkled in her pale eyes, a knowing.

“Do you have a picture, of your friend?” She asked.

“Yes.” You unzipped the RPD bag hanging at your side and carefully pulled the photo from the wallet inside. “His name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Luiza took the photo into her own hand carefully, studying it and then handed it back.

“You should come over for some dinner tonight Y/N. See that gate over there?” She pointed back towards the church but the opposite side from which you’d entered. “Through that gate, turn left and all the way up the hill. My husband and I are having goulash tonight, if that might tempt you.”

“With dumplings?”

“I can do them if you’d like.” She smiled, turning away to face a small gravestone. “Come after nightfall but be careful on your way.”

“I will.” You started heading back towards the church and then turned to ask, “Who is it? That you’re visiting I mean.”

“My daughter.” She replied.

You left Luiza at her daughter’s grave and felt your stomach rumble. The last 24 hours had been gruelling on your body, you were cramping with no pain relief, nor for your knee, which was already aching, a reminder of the stress you’d put it through the day before fighting that… beast, and then you remembered; the dream… what had happened? That was the same beast as the one you’d slain. But what, you’d resurrected it? You wondered what it meant, and then you started to recall what had happened after. Your cheeks burned red in an instant, spreading over your neck and ears. Confusion ultimately taking over. Well at least I’m warm now, you sneered at yourself, and then felt another rumble. I need food.

Luiza seemed like she could be a good ally to have here, and something told you that she recognised that picture of Leon; even if she was the only person that would help you out you felt happy that you had at least something potentially to go on. You headed back into the centre of the village, with the intention of heading back to your camp for another preserved snack and then it hit you; the smell of eggs and bacon. It was drifting up from somewhere a little way past the statue to the left and you followed it around without a care.

“The Fat Goose” The sign read above the door. It looked to be a small inn of sorts with a few townsfolk coming in and out, and in seemingly good spirits. You made sure that your hood was pulled back up over your eyes and made your way in. It was like many other humble pubs that you’d frequented here and there, mostly when visiting back home in England. A long bar at the back of the room, a door leading somewhere at the back, and the clientele sat hunched over round tables upon stools, leaning close to the fire, or shouting above one another at the bar itself. It wasn’t the busiest, but it seemed to be where the majority of the village had decided to spend their day if they did not have work to be done. You could see a couple of the villagers did indeed have meals here of all sorts; chicken, bread, cheese, and most importantly eggs and bacon. You could feel yourself salivating.

Keeping your head low you approached the barkeep, the Lei ready in your hand, and slid it across the surface towards him. “Eggs, bacon and ale, thank you.” You pushed your coin over to him. You’d been lucky, upon meeting the Duke he’d brought up local currency and exchanged what you’d made the mistake of purchasing at the airport.

The barkeeper was quietly suspicious, evident in the way that he eyed you up, taking a moment to pause cleaning the tankard in his hands to take the money and gave a nod back.

“We’ll bring it over to yer table.” He said, turning back to what he was doing. You chanced a glance around the room and decided to take a seat at a vacant table by the window. It felt like a safe spot; you could see the door and the bar, but you were also tucked into a corner out of the way, the only light cast by the fire on the other side of the room and a couple of candles over head in brackets.

The ale was with you in no time at all. You’d never actually drank ale before and weren’t expecting it to be the tastiest of drinks, but there wasn’t much choice here. The eggs and bacon shortly followed, filling the room with a smell that made you stomach growl again.

The door flew open and you suddenly noticed the difference between the warmth of the inn with the bite of the outside air. The chill swept into the pub with the figures of two men, both tall and brawny, but one much larger than the other. They seemed to be deep in conversation but trying to keep their voices to a murmur that they could only hear between themselves.

They were dressed similarly; the taller man’s clothes had more of a darker and subdued palette. He had a head of grey hair, and a beard to match, a broad forehead, kind eyes and a nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. The shorter of the two, but by no means lacking in height had a similar long coat but in more earthy tones. His face was hidden by a dark brown leather hat of sorts, well-worn with a mess of dark hair streaked with grey. The other patrons went quiet as the men entered and then began nodding at them, some even tilting a hat, before going back to their business.

Something began stirring in your stomach and you looked down at your food, maybe the eggs were off? You looked up again, unconscious of being unable to stop watching them, or more specifically, the man with the hat. He definitely felt your gaze right at that moment as he slowly turned his face over his right shoulder to look at you from behind dark, circular shades hiding his eyes from view. Time seemed to stop. He was really looking, and you felt as though you were tumbling backwards down through the biggest chasm carved into the stars.

“Oh boy.” You breathed as the man suddenly turned his head back to reply to something that his towering friend had said, who in turn, then noticed you, glancing over his friend’s head. The feeling in your stomach had grown so intense that it felt as though it had now pummelled its way into your chest too. This felt like danger and sickness all wrapped into one. You had half a mind to leave now, but you knew that not only would that rouse more suspicion, you just also didn’t want to.

“Urias, Karl.” The bartender came over to the two men at the bar, “What can I get you?”

Sometime later a beautiful, red haired girl came to take your plate away. Despite being so hungry when you first came into the establishment, once the men had entered, you’d felt so nauseous that you’d barely been able to manage another bite. You tried to channel your thoughts, calm the storm in your stomach and ease your breathing. You were getting there, managing to ground yourself, but every few minutes your eyes were drawn back to that man, was he Urias or was he Karl? Which name suited him most? Urias sounded strong and noble, well he certainly looked strong. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, suddenly emitting raucous laughter from something that his friend said which shocked you out of your trance; and then he fell silent, starring at the other man so intensely that it scared you.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He asked. The pub fell silent. You were so focused on the scene, as was everyone else that you neglected to notice the way your tankard had started to slowly drift up into the air along with everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry my friend, I am not. I am going to marry her.”

“God fucking damnit Urias!” He bellowed, slamming a fist down on the bar. Everything fell with a bang, ale sloshing over the tables and with that he stormed out of the pub. Urias rubbed a giant hand over his face, the skin gathering in mounds between each finger. The bartender brought over a new tankard, about three times the size of the regular ones and let it thud down in front of Urias.

“On the house, chief.”

Urias took it in his man-paw and without hesitation turned towards you, walking over.

“Are you going to tell me who you are then, fabled traveller. I can tell you come from very far away.” He sounded like how you imagined a talking bear to sound, deep and rumbly. He had a big, square chin, his jaw jutted out slightly, strong teeth, big lips and kind eyes. He poured a little of the ale from his giant vessel into your own, indicating for you to stay put. No one else in the pub seemed to be paying attention, at least not with their eyes, this man must have some hold or power over them.

“My name is Y/N, and I am looking for my friend.” You told him truthfully, face down, but eyes looking up at him. You were scared, for sure, but you wouldn’t let it show. You were here for a reason, you’d come this far, you weren’t going to leave without Leon, and you meant it. You slid the photo across the table to him and he took it tenderly, bringing it closer to his face, all that way up to take a look. He tilted his head to the side.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?” He asked, eyes flitting between you and the photo.

“One other.” You replied, not mentioning who.

“Y/A my name is Urias, as you might have heard my friend eloquently let the world know earlier. I am the chief of this village. My brother and I-“ He paused and looked down at his hands. “My brother and I came from a mountain clan, our blood line has been chief there for generations, but we wanted to see more of the world and make our mark, learn trades and earn our keep. We came to this village when we were both merely men grown, that was a long time ago now.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, turning now to look out of the window, it was already beginning to grow dark and a drift of snow had begun to descend once more. “We climbed the ranks here, doing what we could to help protect the village and its population…” He paused again in thought. “To help, however we could. It’s just me now, but I still want that, I still want to do what’s right for my people”

He took a deep drink from the tankard, which now that you were looking at it closely, looked more like a small barrel with a makeshift handle.

“Y/N I will help you however I can, but please understand this; this is no normal village, there are things at work here even I can’t quite explain. Tensions are very high, and an outsider coming in looking for a missing friend,” He tilted his head and gave a small chuckle, “Well, that’s not going to go down so well with some of the villagers, and especially not with the higher ups.”

“You mean Mother Miranda?” You asked bluntly. He swung his head to look you dead in the eyes.

“How do you know her name?”

“I did my research before I came; I don’t know much about her Urias, but I have a bad feeling about her.” Your cheeks burned from being so forward.

He laughed again, “You’re not the only one.” He muttered, casting you a careful sideways glance, taking you in some more. He looked like he was pondering or considering something. “There are a seldom few here that you can trust, so be careful. You can find me at my house, some of the folk they call it ‘the chief’s hut’, or else I’ll likely be here, at least for now.” His mind seemed to trail off somewhere else.

Noticing that night had indeed now fallen you bid your farewell and shook the giant’s paw and made your way outside into the chill of night, thankful for the stolen cloak wrapped around your frame.

You started around the side of the pub, back towards the route that would take you directly to Luiza’s house when something wrapped around your throat and shoved you against the wall. The breath was choked out of you upon impact and your hood fell, your hair falling down in-front of your eyes as you blinked them open, trying to see what had happened. Pain started spreading in your body; the cuts on your torso, your knee blazed and the cramps starting up again like knives. The thing around your throat was a hand, larger than your own but not huge, nails digging into your flesh.

You tried to say something, a warning a threat, but whoever it was, was closing your throat.

“Don’t pretend I didn’t see you making eyes at me in there darling,” A man’s voice drooled. “We don’t see tourists all too often around here, but I’m sure an outsider like you will be carrying something of value.”

You didn’t recognise the face in front of you at all. A man in his twenties, maybe, fairly non-descript with short mousey brown hair and some stubble. He absolutely reeked of alcohol. Your right hand shot instinctively towards your knife and he twisted your wrist anti-clockwise immediately disarming you, shoving you back against the wall with the force of his body and then reaching for any other weapons. Of course, he found the pistols, kicking one aside and holding the other to your temple.

“These will bring me a pretty Lei or two, I’m sure the Duke would be happy to pay me handsomely. What other souvenirs have you got under that cloak of yours?”

You scrabbled against his hands, trying to execute the self-defence you’d been taught for situations such as these. You tried to get to his weak points; wrist, elbow, knee, balls, but he had you at his mercy. The number of tight spots and situations you’d come up against in your time and you couldn’t do a damn thing if someone had you pinned when their strength was greater than your own. Your hands gripped against his arm, legs kicking.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you. Much.” He pressed the cold of your pistol harshly into the skin under your chin.

“No!” You rasped, suddenly being thrown down for a second but caught by something before you hit the ground. Strong, hot arms held you up from falling.

You dared to open your eyes, looking over the arm at the man’s fate. He was sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here.” A voice rumbled from above you. You looked up. It was Karl. You winced again and the younger man tore off into the darkness without looking back. Your body trembled from pain, cold and something else.

You looked up again. Although you still couldn’t see his eyes you could see some sort of unearthly glow behind the glasses. His skin looked fairly tanned, smooth but worn, tired maybe, and small scars scattered here and there. You were still in his arms, entranced, and so warm.

“Thank you.” You breathed. He swallowed hard and blinked, turning his face away from you, he let his arms drop now that you were on your feet, but you were still close against his body, which now felt so tense. Was he shaking?

“Go.” He exhaled. You faltered, putting a hand to his arm, he flinched, his breathing deepened. “Please.” He shut his eyes. What was this man fighting?

You gulped, stepping back, not understanding, pulling your cloak around you, and stooping to retrieve your weapons.

“Karl, Y/N what’s going on?” Urias lurched out of the pub doors, “What was that commotion?”

A couple of moments passed where you were staring at Urias, holding your cloak to you and expecting Karl to answer, but nothing happened. You turned around to look at Karl, but he wasn’t there.

Urias offered to escort you himself to Luiza’s from there. You told him what happened and although he was furious at what had happened, swearing he’d try to find the culprit and have them punished; he did not seem surprised by Karl’s sudden disappearance. To say you were shaken up was an understatement, but you at least felt safer being with this humungous man of the mountains as you made your way through the snowy night.

Song Suggestion: ‘Stumble and Pain’ by Joseph Arthur

[imkylotrash]

Her Beauty And The Moonlight

Pairing: Stella x reader

Request: Stella gets jealous of the reader and blooms friendship causing her to tell the reader of her feelings towards her. Anonymous

A/N I have a thing for meetings on rooftops. 

“You’re already drinking?” Stella asks and you can’t help but roll your eyes. She’s always giving Riven grief and tonight of all nights you all deserve to let loose. 

“Leave him be, Stella. Tonight is for having a little bit of fun,” you laugh but quiet down as you look over at Sky. You fear you may have been too insensitive considering everything he’s going through right now but he doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“I’m not saying we can’t have fun, I was just making conversation.” Riven lifts the flask once more smirking at Stella as he does. You give her shoulder a gentle squeeze to keep her from annoying Riven more. He’s not that bad yet but he might just turn into a real asshole if provoked. 

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because you, my dear, are a terrible liar.” Her cheeks flush red and you feel your heart swell. 

“I have to go help Bloom get ready but I’ll see you at the party?” you ask grabbing your bag from the bed. You notice Stella’s face fall slightly but in a matter of seconds she covers it up with a smile. 

“Sure. We can’t have Bloom waiting.” You furrow your brows but don’t comment on it. She’s been upset with Bloom ever since she arrived and the only reason you can think of is that she’s upset with how well Bloom and Sky are getting along. Except you thought she was finally over Sky.

“Right. See you.” Walking into the suite, you find all the girls in the bathroom with Terra freaking out. Bloom spots you and edges out of the little bathroom to greet you. 

“I see I came at the right time,” you laugh hugging her briefly. Your friendship has blossomed quickly and it’s taken you by surprise. Normally, you don’t make friends easily - a curse that comes with being a specialist. You see monsters and dangers hidden everywhere, even in people. But Bloom is different somehow. You and her just click and it’s nice having someone other than the boys to talk to. Of course, there’s Stella but it’s difficult speaking to Stella when it’s Stella you need to talk about. 

“We’re just making sure Terra looks her best for the party,” Bloom smiles at the same time as Terra turns to you. 

“I look good, right?” She seems nervous for the party and while you haven’t got a clue why she’s so anxious about tonight you’re all for being a hype woman. 

“You look stunning. You’ll knock them dead.” A breath of relief leaves everyone’s lips and you look to Bloom surprised. Why are everyone walking on eggshells around here?

“She wants to impress Dane,” Bloom whispers in your ear and suddenly, it all makes sense. You don’t have to heart to tell Terra that Dane only has eyes for one person at the moment and sadly, it isn’t her. You just hope she’ll be careful.

“We should probably get going if you still want to go together? I promised Stella I’d be there around ten.” Bloom nods giving Terra one last hug before leaving with you. The party is fun but Bloom leaves you for Sky at some point and after that you don’t feel the need to stay. You don’t drink and you don’t smoke and at this stage in the party everyone is doing either one or both of those things. You’re just about to head out when Stella stops you. 

“Where’s your little sidekick?” She’s stumbling over the words and in all the time you’ve known her this is the first time you’ve ever found her unattractive. Drunkenness does not suit the Princess of Solaria. 

“Are you talking about Bloom? Come on, Stella. She’s my friend,” you say trying to figure out if you can sneak around her. You’ll definitely move faster than she can right now. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the story before. She’s just my friend. I don’t care for her like that. Blah blah. You’ll be in love with her in a month.” 

“Is that what this is? You think I have feelings for Bloom?” Even if you did, why would it be problem for Stella. Is this her being drunk or is she truly bothered by it? It’s hard to tell right now. 

“It’s sad really. She likes Sky and you like her. But who likes you?” It’s a low blow and Stella knows that but right now she doesn’t care. You clench your jaw to keep from biting back at her. It’ll do no good right now. 

“I think you’re done,” you say grabbing the drink from her hand and throwing it away. You did not plan on having to be a babysitter tonight but you’re not about to leave her alone when she’s in this state. She needs water and to sleep it off. 

“Come with me.” You grab her arm and drags her with you. She trips over her feet several times but finally you’re back at your room. 

“I don’t want to sleep here,” she mumbles trying to get free from your grasp. Finally, she’s starting to get sleepy rather than the toxic mood she had at the party. 

“Tough luck. Get in,” you order signalling to the bed. She complains the whole time but crawls under the covers all the same. You won’t be sleeping here tonight, it would feel wrong. You just had to make sure she was safe and sound before leaving. 

“I hate you and Bloom together,” she mumbles and while you’re pretty sure she won’t be remembering this tomorrow you just have to know. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong. It should be me.” You drop the hoodie you’d just grabbed from the closet from pure shock. When you turn around to face her, you find that she’s already asleep. You tell yourself that she’s just drunk and probably doesn’t mean it like that but hope has taken root in your heart now. Silently, you exit the room locking the door before heading outside. The cold air hits you like a slap across the face but you persist anyway. You need to clear your mind and against your own better judgement, you head for the forest. It’s stupid and reckless but you have to get away from everything. If she genuinely does like you, you’ll be happier than a kid on Christmas Eve. But if she doesn’t, this might just break your heart. You’d accepted having to love her from a distance and just be thankful for a chance to be in her life but now that there is an actual chance of having what you’ve always wanted? You’re not sure you’ll be able to go back. You get all the way to the shed with no interruption and decide that Earth sounds pretty good right now. You don’t return to Alfea until the following night heading straight for the roof. There’s something so calming about watching the moon travel across the sky. 

“I thought I saw you return,” Stella says carefully climbing out onto the roof. 

“Hey,” you say keeping your voice neutral. 

“I think I might have said some things last night that I shouldn’t have,” she starts but you shush her. If she’s going to take it back, you want just a moment more feeling hopeful. 

“I know you have feelings for Sky. It’s fine,” you say as you feel the wind blow out the candle of hope she had ignited in you.

“I don’t have feelings for Sky, I have feelings for you. You’re the one with feelings for someone else,” Stella admits and you want to kiss her and slap her at the same time. Is she actually so oblivious that she hasn’t realised that you’re head over heels in love with her? 

“I have feelings for you. It’s always been you.” Moonlight bathes the two of you in its soft light and you swear she’s never looked more beautiful than right now. The moment could not be more cliché than this but with Stella you don’t mind. Hesitant you reach out and intertwine your fingers with hers and she awards you with a smile. 

“So, we have feelings for each other? What are we going to do about that?” Stella asks voice shaking slightly. 

“How about this?” You lean in and kiss her softly. 

“Yeah, I like that.” She kisses you once more creating a fire inside of you. It feels so right being with her. You sneak your arm around her and she leans her head on your shoulder. You watch the sunrise together and the sun proves you wrong. Sunlight is way better than moonlight. 

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Alex gets hurt and ends up breaking his arm, and Willie takes care of him. It really gets Alex down because he can’t drum and feels like he let the band down and he can’t use drumming to help with his anxiety and he feels useless because he can’t do much himself. Willie helps him with stuff he can’t do and tries to help him use other ways to cope with his anxiety. Lots of overprotective and soft caring Willie.

Snap

Alex had known it was a bad idea from the very beginning. Maybe it was the glint in Reggie’s eye, or the mischievous way Luke was biting his lip as he grinned, or the way they introduced the idea with, “You’re probably going to say no,” that had tipped him off. The point was, Alex had known that it was the worst plan his bandmates had ever come up with right from the get-go.

What he didn’t know was why he agreed to go through with it.

“You’re probably going to say no,” Luke had said when he and Reggie had entered the studio that morning. Alex had been trying to set up his drum kit, but looked up as they came in. He was immediately wary of the grin on Luke’s face. “But at least hear us out.”

“I’m worried,” Alex told them, glancing between each of them.

Luke waved a dismissive hand. “You’re always worried. Listen, it’s a great idea, I promise.”

“And,” Reggie added, “we’ve already got everything set up so it’ll be a total bummer if you say no now.”

Alex frowned. “What is it?” he asked warily.

“Just come with us, bro, I swear it’s awesome!”

Luke’s enthusiasm was hard to say no to, so Alex sighed and reluctantly stood to follow them out of the studio. He didn’t like the way his friends kept giggling at each other, then glancing back at him, and giggling even more. He didn’t like how this was a spontaneous adventure that he hadn’t had any time to prepare for. He didn’t like how he had no idea what the boys were planning.

But that didn’t stop him from following them.

They walked for a while, Luke and Reggie a few steps ahead of Alex, muttering conspiratorially between themselves. Eventually, they came to the top of a hill from which Alex could see the beach in one direction and the city in the other. Luke and Reggie stood side by side, then slid apart from each other in a grand reveal, announcing, “Ta-da!”

They moved apart to uncover a shopping trolley. A rusty, grimy shopping trolley that was missing a front wheel and looked as if it wouldn’t even be safe to push around a supermarket - somehow, Alex doubted that was what Luke and Reggie wanted to use it for in any case.

“Where did you get that?” Alex asked, eyeing the trolley.

“Washed up on the beach by my house,” Reggie said excitedly. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“You could say that,” Alex muttered. “You two seriously pushed it all the way up this hill?”

“Yep,” Luke said brightly, popping the ‘p’. “It took, like, three hours because the missing wheel kept making it turn and roll back down. We got it here though!”

He and Reggie high-fived.

“Uh-huh.” Alex had a dreadful sense in his stomach that he knew exactly where this was going. “And, uh... why did you want to show it to me?”

Luke grinned. He pointed to the trolley and said, “You’re gonna get in and we’re going to push you down the hill.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke whined. “It’ll be fun!”

“I’m not concerned about it being fun, I’m concerned about it being dangerous!”

Luke scoffed and Reggie made a ‘pfffft’ sound. He slapped the side of the trolley. “This thing is perfectly safe! It’s sturdy - it survived being in the sea, remember?”

“It didn’t survive, it’s missing a wheel, which is the very thing that makes it dangerous,” Alex countered. “I’m not getting in that death-trap.”

“What if either Reggie or I go first?” Luke suggested. “You’ll see it’s safe, we can push it back up the hill, and you can have your turn.”

Alex shook his head. “You just said it took three hours to get this up here, I’m not waiting that long just to meet my certain doom.”

“There’s no doom,” Luke said.

“Alex, please,” Reggie said, breaking out the puppy-dog eyes. Alex felt his defences weaken.

And then Luke had to go and join in. BAM! Double puppy-dog eyes, both of his bandmates silently begging him to do that one simple task that would make them happy.

He sighed begrudgingly. “Fine. But if I die, you need to make sure my drum kit goes to someone who will appreciate it.”

“Gotcha,” Luke said, grinning from ear to ear. He slapped Alex’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

Against his better judgement and his choice, Alex steeled himself and clambered into the trolley. He felt the metal groan against his body weight, the cold rust digging into his bottom and back. It was probably staining his favourite pink hoodie, he thought with a grimace.

“Did you bring a helmet?” he asked, a nervous hitch in his voice. Now that he was in the trolley the hill looked a whole lot steeper.

Luke and Reggie laughed, readying themselves on either side of the trolley. Reggie said, “No. You won’t need one - we told you, it’s totally safe.”

“Are you ready?” Luke asked.

“Will it even matter if I say no?” Alex deadpanned.

“No. Okay, Reg, let’s do this. Three, two, one, go!”

Luke and Reggie, both clutching the trolley, took a great running start across the hill. As they gained momentum, Alex began feeling less and less steady and secure. He gripped the bars of the trolley for dear life; his eyes were open as they neared the edge, but only because it was an “I don’t want to look but I can’t not look” situation. As they drew ever closer to the drop, Alex felt the need to eject himself from the trolley but couldn’t make himself move.

And all of a sudden he was hurtling down the side of the hill, the trolley swerving unpredictably beneath him, running smoothly for a moment but then shooting off to the left or right with sharp turns that flipped Alex’s stomach. He collided with rocks, roots, and tree stumps that sent him and the trolley flying through the air for just a second before they landed without grace and sped down the hill once more.

Alex saw the main hazard long before he reached it but by that point it was about three minutes too late to do anything about it. As he gathered yet more speed, he found that he was headed directly towards a high barbed-wire fence. His mouth opened to scream but no noise came out.

Alex and the trolley smacked into the fence. In what Alex could only assume had looked like a spectacular acrobatic display, he was launched from the trolley and pinwheeled through the air, arms and legs star-fished around him. He landed in a heap on the other side of the fence, awkwardly jarring his arm on an unfortunately placed rock and then, because luck was not on his side, landed with the rest of his body weight on it.

Snap.

That didn’t sound good.

It didn’t feel good either. Immediately, Alex was aware that he couldn’t feel his right arm - the only sensation was a faint buzzing in it as if he had pins and needles.

He sat himself up, using his other hand for leverage, and looked at his arm. It was... not the shape an arm was supposed to be.

He had known this was a bad idea.

*

Six hours later, most of which had been spent in a hospital with a frantic Luke and an inconsolable Reggie, Alex had made his way to Willie’s place. The two of them were on the couch, Alex laying with his head on Willie’s lap and his face buried in Willie’s t-shirt, Willie gently carding his fingers through Alex’s hair. Alex’s right arm was wrapped in a pink plaster cast and hoisted up against his chest with a sling.

“This sucks,” he mumbled into the fabric of Willie’s shirt for what had to be the twentieth time that day.

Willie sighed. “I know, hotdog. Broken bones are never fun. But it’s only six weeks, right?”

“Six to eight,” Alex groaned. “That’s six to eight weeks where I can do pretty much nothing.”

“Hey,” Willie said gently. “Don’t give up so easily, it’s only been a few hours. I’ve broken a ton of bones skateboarding, and I know a whole bunch of fun things we can do while you’re all bandaged up.”

Alex harrumphed. “I can’t drum. So no band.”

“No playing with the band. That doesn’t mean you can’t hang out with them or go to rehearsals.”

“Great,” Alex said sarcastically. “That’s one really fun and exciting thing I can do - watch my friends have fun without me.”

“Stop it,” Willie said, voice a little firmer. Alex stopped. “They won’t be having fun without you because you’ll be there. A broken arm doesn’t stop you being their friend.”

Alex muttered to himself, “It’s stops me being useful.”

“What did you say?” Willie prompted.

Alex sighed haggardly and sat up, shuffling around to face Willie. “I said it stops me being useful. To them, to the band. I’ve let them down! We had three gigs lined up next week and now we don’t have a drummer so those will all be off. And what really sucks is that all of those gigs had managers and record execs coming to watch them, now they’re not going to see us. It’s my fault!”

Willie took his hand, the one that wasn’t strapped up to his chest with the sling. Alex felt him thread their fingers together and told himself to breathe. Breathe and look into Willie’s eyes. Calm.

“It’s not your fault, Alex,” Willie said, and as always whatever he said immediately made sense in Alex’s mind. Of course it wasn’t his fault - why would it be? “It’s nobody’s fault. The guys pressured you into getting in, you did, Julie wasn’t there to tell you all how stupid you were being, and I wasn’t there to at least offer you my helmet. We’re all a little to blame, but it’s not anybody’s fault, least of all yours.”

“I’m still letting them down,” Alex said quietly, struggling to maintain eye contact.

Willie shook his head. “You know that isn’t true. You’re Julie and the Phantoms - none of you have the ability to be disappointed in each other or let each other down. You’re like one person; if one of you is down, you all are.”

Alex was unconvinced, and it must have shown on his face because Willie sighed and continued.

“Remember last year when Reggie tried to fix his amp in the rain, got electrocuted, and then couldn’t play that school dance? So instead of getting mad at him you all took turns staying by his bedside, fetching him whatever he needed, keeping an eye on him, even helping him to the toilet and stuff like that?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “That was different. He could have died.”

“You could have died today,” Willie pointed out. Alex shuddered at the thought. “But okay. What about when Julie had a throat infection? You all started learning sign language to try and communicate with her. Sure, you all remembered that she could still hear you and that she could just write down what she wanted to say, but you were willing to learn a new language for her.”

“That’s still different!” Alex protested. He tried to throw his arms up in the air in frustration, but one was tied to his chest, so his left arm just flopped pathetically by itself.

“Why?”

“Because it’s Julie. We’d do anything for her.”

Willie fixed him with a glare full of love, unnerving and endearing at the same time.

“And they would all do anything for you too,” he said. “You know that. Tell me you know that, Alex.”

Alex swallowed thickly. “I know that,” he admitted quietly.

“And I would too,” Willie added, still gazing at Alex. “We’ve got this, hotdog.”

Finally, Alex felt the barest beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. He squeezed Willie’s hand.

“We’ve got this.”

*

It was all well and good saying “we’ve got this” but the actual “getting this” part was easier said than done. It hadn’t been a day and Alex had already caved.

It had started that morning. He had woken up and been hyper aware of the cast on his arm. He could feel it like a hand clasped around his forearm, a sensation that couldn’t be shaken off or rubbed away. It had made his head tingle and he couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything.

When he’d gone downstairs, his father had tried to clap him genially on the shoulder, but being touched had felt like being suffocated. Alex hadn’t said anything, just tried to shrink away.

Then, inevitably and despite the nice greeting he had attempted to give, his father had launched into a spiel about why it was so awful that Alex had chosen to have a pink cast. It had sent his mind reeling, made his legs numb, and started his eyes watering.

So he had been feeling stressed. He had needed to get out of the house so he had gone on a walk - the nice breeze and the warm summer sun had been helpful, but there were so many noises outside. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, car horns honked, people laughed, footsteps echoed, leaves crunched, wind whistled, dogs barked, and every other noise the outside world created seemed stuck on an endless, repetitive, painful loop that attacked Alex’s ears and brain.

He could feel his anxiety beginning to spike. If one more thing touched him (in the metaphorical or literal sense) he was sure he would break.

He got a text from Willie: Going to be late but will bring a fun surprise!

Snap.

The floodgates opened and Alex began to cry. All he wanted was for things to be normal - he wanted his arm out of the cast, he wanted to drum with his band, and he wanted to see his boyfriend right now like they had planned.

So he did something stupid. He went to the Molinas’ house, let himself into the studio as he and the other boys regularly did, sat himself down beside his drum kit, slipped his cast-covered arm from the sling and began to drum.

It wasn’t the easy release it always was. It just hurt even more. Alex should have expected it; using a broken arm to whack a drum didn’t sound fun when put bluntly. But usually drumming helped so much, usually it made the tight feeling in Alex’s mind loosen. Not today.

Still, he kept drumming, because now it almost felt like he couldn’t stop.

It hurt.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there when the doors to the studio opened and Julie popped her head in. “Alex?”

Finally he let his arms fall to his sides, knackered and aching. His right arm was throbbing and there were tears running down his cheeks.

“Hey,” Julie said gently, hurrying towards him. She held her hand out, an offering for him to take it, but Alex shook his head and she withdrew it.

“Alex,” she continued. “I need you to put your broken arm back in the sling. Here, give me your drumsticks.”

He did as she said, grateful for order and instruction. He handed her his sticks, then winced as he manoeuvred his arm back into its sling.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Julie asked softly.

Alex shrugged. How was he supposed to know?

Julie made the decision for him. “I’ll see if I can get hold of Willie.”

As she left the studio, Alex couldn’t help but laugh. Of course that would help and of course Julie knew that.

It wasn’t five minutes before Willie pushed the doors to the studio open and skated inside in one smooth move that Alex might have found impressive another time. He propped his board up against the wall and headed straight in Alex’s direction, crouching down beside him.

Alex fumbled to take Willie’s hand.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” Willie said quietly. “Julie said you were drumming?”

Alex nodded.

Willie huffed an affectionate laugh. “That was a dumb thing to do.”

Alex felt a smile tug at his lips. “I know,” he croaked. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Willie said soothingly. “I know how hard this is for your. But, when your anxiety spikes we’re going to have to find other things to do in the meantime. Drumming isn’t going to do you any good.”

Alex nodded again. “I know. It hurt.”

“Do you want to head up to the hospital?” Willie asked, gently touching Alex’s broken arm where it was safely in its sling. He was probably imagining it, but Alex could have sworn that the pain went away when Willie touched it. “Make sure you’ve not done any more damage?”

“I think it’s fine,” Alex told him. Willie looked up at him, disbelieving. “I didn’t go hard, I’m not that stupid.”

“Okay then. I believe you. I’ve got something planned, but is there anything you want to do first? Or do you still need a little time to calm down?”

Alex squeezed his hand. “Can we just... I don’t know. Can you just sit with me for a while?”

Willie smiled and Alex felt his heart burst. “Of course, hotdog. Whatever you need.”

They moved to the couch and cuddled up together. Willie positioned himself so that he could easily press gentle kisses to Alex’s forehead - Alex didn’t know whether Willie had done that for his own enjoyment or for Alex’s, but he didn’t mind either way. Just having Willie there, holding him, supporting him, made him feel a whole lot better than he had before.

*

Alex hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he found himself yawning as he woke up. He tried to stretch his arms, then remembered one of them was bound to his chest, and awkwardly let the one arm that had moved fall to his side. He heard Willie giggle and turned to face him where he was cuddled practically beneath Alex.

“Tired, sleeping beauty?” Willie teased, brushing hair out of Alex’s face.

Alex felt his face flush. “I’m not sleeping beauty,” he said. “I’m not any princess.”

“You got that right,” Willie said, pointing to a wet patch on his own shirt. “Princesses don’t drool on their boyfriend’s shirts.”

Alex rolled his eyes and laughed a little, pushing himself into a sitting position. Willie sat up too, and pressed a quick kiss to Alex’s cheek.

“Right,” Willie said, pulling Alex to his feet. “Ready to do what I had planned?”

“Okay,” Alex said, grinning.

Willie tugged on his arm and led him out of the studio. They walked together for a while, Willie talking his ear off about this and that and everything in between. Alex was grateful for Willie all the time, but especially in times like this - times when Alex was struggling for words and wasn’t feeling quite up to talking at all, and Willie would simply know when he felt like that and do all the talking for him.

Eventually, Willie came to a stop so sudden that Alex walked straight into him. Willie laughed and clutched Alex’s hand, pointing to the building they’d stopped outside.

It was a museum, one that Willie had taken Alex to many a time before. Alex knew how much Willie loved this place - the way his face lit up when he talked about all the different exhibits was endearing and downright beautiful. Alex didn’t ‘get’ art himself, but he would never pass up an opportunity to visit the gallery with Willie.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

Willie shrugged. “I was brainstorming ways to help you combat your anxiety while drumming isn’t an option, and I remembered that they just opened a new temporary feature here. It’s all about noise being its own form of art and they’ve added an area where you can make your own.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Your own noise or art?”

“The point is that it’s both,” Willie explained, leading him inside. “And I think the way they’ve designed it could be a very effective stress-reliever. Come on.”

Willie led him through all the exhibits, wending his way through the bustling crowds with ease. He didn’t stop to talk about all the paintings and sculptures like he usually would, so Alex’s curiosity was piqued.

Willie pulled him into a room. Which was really all it was - just a room. It was relatively large with a plain white ceiling, floor, and walls (except for one which was entirely glass and showed the bright spring sunshine outside). Alex looked around for some instruction of what to do; Willie had said the exhibit was all about noise, but there was literally nothing in the room that could be used to make a sound.

“So... what do we do?” Alex asked.

Willie grinned. “You make your own noise.”

And then he screamed.

It was a long, loud, sustained note and when Willie finally finished he was grinning from ear to ear, looking absolutely exhilarated. Alex (impressed that Willie had held the note so long and now weirdly curious about his lung capacity) stared at him, dumb-founded.

“This is really what we’re supposed to do?” he asked sceptically.

Willie nodded vigorously. “Yeah, man, and it’s awesome! You just... let go! Shout all your worries away. Now you try!”

Alex nervously let out a weak little, “Ahhhhh.”

Willie laughed loudly and took hold of Alex’s shoulders. “Come on, bro, you’ve got to put some effort in. Come on, like this, ready?”

He screamed again.

Alex screamed back.

And for god knows how long, the two of them stayed together, screaming into each other’s faces, competing to see who could scream longest and loudest, and Alex hardly noticed that his worries were dissipating as he let himself be confident and have fun with Willie. The minutes ticked by into hours and they only stopped screaming when they were totally out of breath.

Willie blew his hair out of his face, eyes shining hopefully. “Feels good, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, pulling him into an awkward one-armed hug. “It does.”

*

Alex spent the night at Willie’s, not feeling up to going home. When they woke up to Alex’s alarm the next morning, Alex felt Willie shuffle into his side, head on Alex’s shoulder, clearly not wanting to get up.

“It’s, like, five o’clock in the morning,” Willie grumbled, throwing an arm across Alex’s midriff. “I want to stay in bed.”

“We’ve hit snooze a dozen times and it’s nearly eleven a.m.,” Alex returned, smiling fondly. “I’m very sorry but it’s time to get up.”

Willie sighed and rolled himself out of bed, grumbling about Alex interrupting his dream. Alex just laughed and sat up too, automatically looking for his own wardrobe and then remembering he was at Willie’s and had nothing to wear.

“I should have headed home and grabbed some clean clothes,” he thought out loud. A moment later he was struck in the back of the head by one of Willie’s t-shirts and a pair of trousers.

“Put those on,” Willie said as he pulled on a tricolour jumper. “I’m pretty sure they’ll fit.”

Alex picked up the clothes (a tie-dye crop-top and a pair of acid wash ripped jeans) and began his attempt at getting dressed. There were many things Alex had found that were hard to do one-armed, but putting clothes on was the biggest challenge, bordering on impossible. How was he supposed to get his arm through the hole if he wasn’t supposed to use his arm?

He heard Willie giggle somewhere in front of him and was glad that the shirt jammed over his head covered up his blush.

“Need any help, hotdog?” Willie teased.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Alex lied. He shimmied a little, trying to get the shirt to fall down over his face.

There was another quiet little chuckle, and a moment later Alex felt Willie’s cold hands on his skin as he gently maneuvered Alex’s arms and head to go through the right holes. When the shirt finally was on properly and Alex’s eyes were uncovered again, he was greeted with the lovely sight of Willie smiling down at him affectionately, eyes bright and smile wide.

Willie finished helping Alex dress, ignoring Alex’s insistence that he really could do it by himself (”I think you’ve just proved that you can’t, hotdog.”) and the two of them left the house. Willie told Alex that he had planned another something to take Alex’s mind off the cast, this time down at the beach; Alex had no idea what it could be, but didn’t find himself stressing out at the thought of not knowing.

It was strange, but it made sense. After all, having Willie there to help him over the past few days had made Alex’s life a whole lot easier. Having Willie in his life at all made it that much more enjoyable. With Willie, Alex felt safe and able to trust himself and his boyfriend. He felt free, even though he was trapped by the cast.

He was certain that whatever Willie had thought up would help him get through the pain and the anxiety, and he couldn’t wait.

[lucadina]

What’s Wrong With Me?

A/N: ereannie, intimacy issues

'You always look a little sad.'

It's an observation Eren had made in passing; it shouldn't bother Annie much, but it does— probably because it's the first time she's felt seen.

Although, being seen is never a good thing when all you have left are your secrets, the broken bones beneath the scars that burst into wildfire whenever someone cares just enough to look at you.

'When you space out,' he had said, 'That's when it's like you're about to cry. But you never do.'

Because I don't want to cry in front of you.

Annie sometimes wonders why that is.

The answer feels right at her fingertips, tangible when the realises that he's too good to be true. These moments are brief and unexpected, creeping up on her like morning mist and dissipating to reveal an untold, personal dream of hers: how insane would it be, if someone could love her for real? Past the excitement of her scathing words, beyond the tease of a pale, perfumed neck— how crazy would it be if he actually loved her for all that she is?

He may not love her, but he sees her.

Once in a while, when they're facing each other over dinner or laying side-by-side in bed, he'll look at her with intent, with morbid fascination, until the verdant veil of his gaze lifts, and suddenly she's confronted by his firm judgement.

The verdict is always the same: You think too much, you hurt too much.

'But if I didn't, then I wouldn't care about you.'

That always gets him to shut the fuck up, because it's true. He doesn't give her much to love and yet she cares for him; she can't help it. And that works for him; he doesn't need to be loved for who he is; he likes himself and that is more than enough. He's with her because having another person feel for him proves to the naysayers that he isn't unworthy of affection. That he's normal, he can do it, he can have it— he's normal.

Yet at the back of his head, her low voice whispers that he isn't special. That she chose him not because he's godly, not because he's extraordinary— but because he's familiar.

He is proud and places himself over others; he doesn't have the tools to love her back; he's her history reflected back at her without promise of anything better.

He's honest, and that's refreshing. She's tired of disappointments.

So she can do it. She can tough it out where others have cried themselves to sleep.

Bitch was crazy, he had said about the women he'd left torn and grieving.

And that pisses her off because he doesn't know. He doesn't know what it's like to have a broken heart, a real one. To have that flutter in your chest ripped out, twisted, and trampled over till it's smashed back into you as this resilient ache, tortuous till you start thinking: maybe it'd be better if it stopped beating.

So she says:

'There must be something wrong with you then, if you fall for crazy over and over.'

'I haven't this time, though.'

And you never will, she thinks, because you'll never see all of me.

It's why she's so confident. She's certain that he's kept at arm's length, that he doesn't pay attention when her thoughts throb in her mind's eye, that he doesn't think about the reasons as to why she begs to be alone at random intervals in the day. He never asks questions; but she makes the mistake of allowing him to collect too much intel on her tricky character.

In Annie's preoccupation with distance, she can't see when he's close enough to peer into the cracks of her skin. And he sees how she bleeds every day, how wounds never close, and how she stays silent because she thinks she's ugly when she screams.

Eren watches. Even when she thinks he isn't, he is.

He catches her when the mask slips. In the bright afternoon, with the light filtering in through the window she leans her forehead on— yet her eyes are midnight.

Eerily still, corpse-white and barely breathing.

He leans forward, a rough palm on her knee: 'Snap out of it, honey.'

Annie startles— 'Huh?'

He tries to smile.

It's an intimate memory; it should be venerated, just how close they've come to each other. Up close, all their (especially her) flaws in full view— it's spilling out of her like boiling tar. Not sweet or sophisticated— instead, bitter and aching.

She can't care. He's just going to leave anyway, and she wishes he'd do it soon before he takes too much of what's left.

Except, he takes nothing and gives her all he has.

When she pulls away, he doesn't let go.

When she's barely holding it together, he looks the other way so she can cry.

When her mind goes a million miles an hour, when she's thinking herself into circles— his tender touch brings her back.

It starts to tire her out.

Because she begins to wonder if maybe he actually does love her.

That's impossible. It can't be reality, it can't be true, because people don't know how to love anyone other than themselves. They would if they could, but they can't; that's just how it is, and so suffering is a nimbus cloud looming overhead.

And Annie's fine with that, because it explains everything.

It all makes sense now— why it hurts, why it has always hurt, why it can't stop hurting.

With each passing day, she teeters on the precipice of heartbreak.

She shares this with him; it moves him. Somehow, he changes, he desires change. And while he likes himself and wants for nothing, he thinks he can do with a little less of what makes him superhuman.

It starts as an effort to be close to her. In the end, he decides it's better to be flawed and imperfect— it means that there's space for someone else, even if that someone deems herself too jagged to ever fit properly with another person.

They're at the beach when he tells her he loves her; they're lounging on the oat-sand prickling their bare legs, the faraway thunder of the crashing waves lulling them into daydream. As they gaze at the dull stars fighting for brilliance against the maddening colours of a somber sundown, his confession rings inside of her with the steady force of church bells.

Annie feels a surge of heat in her chest; she realises she doesn't want to be here, next to him, looking on at the endless ebb of ice-water.

She wants to burn with the stars above, to flicker and fall and fade.

She wants to ignore this moment. To get up, turn her back, and forget she ever met him. She doesn't want to give him the chance to hurt her. But to lose him? She doesn't want that either. There's an invisible fear coiled tightly around her throat; she can't speak. What is she even supposed to say?

And he's so good, so gracious and understanding, that he tells her that she isn't obliged to say anything at all— I just wanted you to know, he whispers, and means it.

Her voice is shaky: 'You don't understand how hard this is for me.'

'I do understand,' he purposely softens his tone—, 'What I don't get is how you don't understand where I'm at.'

'Where you're at,' she echoes, 'Where you're at...?'

'I feel that I've earned the right to say I love you. That I've proven, in every way I can, that I do— why don't you believe me?'

'Because you don't even know me.'

Eren extends his hand, demanding hers (which she doesn't give): 'I don't have to. You won't open up to me, and I won't make you— despite that, I still want you— doesn't that mean that I love you?'

She can only watch in silence as he finally takes her hand in his. He thumbs over her knuckles, and her gut coils as it dawns on her that she has never loved or needed anyone the way she does him. It's worse that he isn't cutting her open, that he's waiting patiently for a response, that he sees her for what she is and chooses anyway to commit to what they have— even if it's a nightmare; and it nauseates her, the idea that there are no more secrets, that she's fully exposed and for once, she is neither judge nor jury—

'What's wrong with me, Eren?'

And it's surprising how much he knows.

[elsewhereuniversity]

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in?                                                                                     In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a  birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

                                                                        Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

 “I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

x

[gxccistyless]

Fine Line: The Divorce Series - Part three.

Here is the last part of fine line - the divorce series.  You can read part one here and part two here

I would LOVE to write some one shots based on Harry and Eliza. Feel free to send in requests!! 

That night after he left Eliza’s  Harry went home and sits in his shower for 45 minutes, he thought about going to the pub and then he thought about going to the liquor store to get a bottle of bourbon to drink it in its entirety all in an attempt to try and forget about the fact that he had just kissed Eliza. Harry decides against it, he calls his sponsor instead, his sponsor came to lend an ear and help him get through the night, without liquor. He and his sponsor had become close, he could trust his sponsor to be there for him without feeling the need to worry about his personal struggles with alcohol being leaked to the press.

Two weeks later he found himself at a social gathering at his sponsors house, a family garden party of sorts, alcohol free of course, and that’s where he first met  Olivia Dane. He and Olivia seemed to have an instant connection, no awkward spots in their conversations, no awkward silences where he felt the need to fill time with rambling. Conversation flowed freely. He left that night not having a single drop of alcohol, and with her number in his phone. One week later they were out to dinner ams six weeks after that had her on his arm down the red carpet. 

Eliza and Harry never discussed the kiss. For him it was something he was able to freely move passed, for her it was so much more. The kiss lingered on her mind for weeks and weeks she had so many unanswered questions, questions she knew she might never have answers to. The two had reverted back to old ways, going through third parties to organise Harry spending time with Koa and Lennon. Eliza didn’t love the idea of not having any contact with Harry, especially because they had just started going to therapy and she was really hoping that this would be the turning point in their co-parenting attempt. She was happy that their children had their father back though, every child deserves happy and healthy parents was her fundamental belief. That’s truly all she has ever wanted for Harry, for him to be happy and healthy. With Harry out of the picture for her, she spent more time getting closer to her now partner Andrew. She never spoke a word of the kiss. 

harrystyles . MINE .  LIked by jefezoff, oliviadane and 12,573,399 others.  The post took Eliza by surprise. She saw it on a Sunday morning as she was lazing in bed. She wanted to be happy for him, she wanted him to love and to be loved, but she still wanted him to love her. It was selfish of her, and she was aware of this. Selfish because she has and still was seeing someone else, so why shouldn’t he be able to do the same. But that kiss still lingered in the back of her mind.

She would come to find out some hours later that at some point during the day Harry had unfollowed her on all social media platforms. This hurt her more than it should have, Andrew copping the brunt of her anger, leading them to a huge argument where he had accused her of still being in love with Harry. I can’t be in this relationship with you Eliza, this isn’t healthy. You still love him and that’s okay, but let’s be honest here you can’t love him and still have me. He was right. They ended things that night.  Harry was thinking about introducing Olivia to his kids. It had been on his mind for a while, probably from the second week he had known her. Him co-parenting with Eliza made it harder for him to see Olivia on weekends. He had just gotten into such a good schedule with having the kids again he didn’t want to cancel visits, but he also didn’t want to lay in bed alone at night when they were asleep. Olivia didn’t fancy children very much, her opinion of children didn’t change just because they were linked to the man she was sleeping with. Harry waited three months before he organised a brunch date where she would meet the children. 

Anne had gone to Elizas to pick up the children just as she had been all this time. Koa had fallen ill and Eliza had almost canceled their visit but she had caught wind that the kids would be meeting Olivia and decided against canceling, but packing everything from his prescription medication to his favourite lovey just to be safe, writing out a note giving perfectly clear descriptions about the contents of the bag and their uses.  Olivia rolled her eyes and complained about said bag and note she seems so dramatic over a damn cold were her exact words. Harry didn’t say anything in return letting her comment slide. It was moments like this that he would come to later regret, letting things slide was in his opinion the way people got into bad behaviours, but he loved her and didn’t want to royally fuck this day up over a comment before it had even really started.  He seemed to think that the brunch went well, Olivia on the other hand was less than enthused. Koa had spilt his yoghurt, Lennon her orange juice, children were crying and there was snot everywhere. Despite her distaste for the children of the man she loved, she smiled through it. But really all she could think about was ways to get Harry to herself next weekend, child (and snot) free. She somehow managed it and the following weekend, an hour before Harry was scheduled to have the kids, he canceled. Something about a surprise weekend in Paris that had been sprung on him at the last minute was the reasoning Eliza had gotten off of Anne. 

oliviadane you had me at bonjour ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 5,452 others.

Harry’s visits with the children had become few and far between by late September. Fallon’s anniversary was fast approaching and Eliza was not coping. Anne, who had stayed in contact with her and loved her like a second daughter picked up on it. Eliza was out of sorts, and rightfully so. She had a lot on her plate between the twins and mentally trying to process the upcoming date. Harry on the other hand was off in a different country every week. Brushing off the responsibilities of parenthood had yet again come so easy to him, Eliza wasn’t surprised at this point. Old habits die hard. Anne had let her concerns about Eliza known to Gemma who went to visit to see for herself. Eliza was a mess, Anne had not been lying. Gemma gave Harry and absolute ear bashing on the phone, told him how much of a disappointment he was to her and their mother, how his kids would resent him some day, how he should be ashamed of himself. Gemmas words must have hit a nerve, or at least talked some sense into him. The following week Harry had done a complete 180 again and the visits with the children, much to Olivia’s dismay, were back on schedule. 

It started with small incidents at first. Koa coming home crying, Lennon expressing her disinterest in going to her fathers house for weekend visits. The weekend before Fallon’s anniversary was the last straw. Koa was screaming and crying as Anne’s car pulled away from Eliza’s house. Eliza could hear his blood curdling shrieks from down the road as she stood frozen in her driveway watching her babies drive away. She hated sending them to him when they were in such a state but she couldn’t figure out what the sudden change had been, they had always loved spending time with their dad until suddenly the didn’t. 

Harry came home from the studio at around lunchtime. His mum had brought the kids some hours earlier and Olivia had been with them for the few hours that they had been there. Harry did not expect to come home to two screaming, crying, hyperventilating children. How long have they been crying? Olivia rolled her eyes and told him they hadn’t shut up since they had gotten there, adding in that they had given her a splitting headache and she was very happy he was home because now they were his problem. Harry knew in that moment that he would have to break up with her. Her small comments about his children and the mother of his children needed to stop, he thought that once she got used to the idea of having the kids around and spending more time with them to get to know them a little better that the comments would stop, but they didn’t. He couldn’t change her, her hatred for children was so deep seeded there was no flipping this situation. He thought that perhaps they could spend one last night together and that he would break it off in the morning once the children had left, but then he noticed the bruises on the children’s arms. When he asked Lennon what had happened she simply pointed to Olivia and that was enough to send him into a fit. Olivia had her bags packed and was out of the house by nightfall. 

Elizas doorbell rang at approximately 7.45pm. She found Harry on her doorstep childless. She panicked thinking something had happened to the twins at first and he must have seen it in her face because he just about jumped at the chance to tell her that his mother was watching them. This had been the first time since the kiss that the two had seen each other.  She pulls the door open more than it had been and lets him stroll through. She makes him a coffee whilst she makes herself a tea and then he tells her everything. She wants to press charges, to hunt this lady down and give her a bruising. Harry tells her that the children need her to be with them at home and not in a jail cell, she decides for once that Harry may have the better judgement here and settles down with Harry promising to never bring her, or any other woman, around their kids every again.  The following weekend, the family of four had an afternoon picnic at Fallon’s grave. It was nothing special, Eliza and Harry both cried the whole time, holding each other extra tight. It had been a rough year for the both of them, they had come so far yet here they found themselves back where they belonged the most... in each other’s arms, surrounded by all their children. With Olivia gone, Koa and Lennon relaxed and seemed to be once again enjoying their time with Harry. Truth be told, she had been enjoying time with Harry too. He became a regular for breakfasts at Eliza’s, and then when the kids were at kindy he became a regular for lunch, and then dinner and then a regular in her bed. This has been over the course of a few months, Eliza made boundaries very early on and part of her stipulations were that they needed to have weekly therapy and not put too much pressure on themselves. In true Harry and Eliza style, the two didn’t take things too slow.

Harry and Eliza remarried in a causal courthouse ceremony in late January, his mum and Gemma were their witnesses. They went to a swanky restaurant to celebrate with the most expensive Sunday roast dinner Harry has ever had in his life. Harry surprised the public with the news, they had somehow managed to keep the rekindling of their relationship under wraps and the media and fans lost their minds in unison. The pair were a hot topic for days.

harrystyles Eliza Ray Styles, I am so lucky that you agreed to marry me twice in one lifetime. I don’t deserve you, but I will love you until the day I die. Love you, wife.  Liked by elizastyles, annetwist and 32,763,278 others.  A few weeks later, it was their turn to be surprised with news that they were once again expecting. Both Harry and Eliza were secretly relieved to only see one baby on the screen at the first appointment. Eliza decided to keep this pregnancy to herself, Harry had no tours and no press junkets and no radio interviews and the pair were both able to fully enjoy the pregnancy. Eliza went into labour in the early out of October 3rd, what would have been Fallon’s 6th birthday, and gave birth and home in the water just six hours later. They once again found themselves trending for days after the announcement of the birth of their son. 

elizastyles for the last nine months, we have been holding the news of this little blessing very close to our hearts. One month ago, Jairus Cohen Styles arrived three weeks early, happy and healthy, and shares a birthday with his Angel sister Fallon Noel. Our family is complete. We are both tired and in love ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 7,625,618 others. 

[sylvie-writes]

Bad (4): Moral of the Story

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: Your divorce with Ransom is finalized and some changes, good and bad, occur for the both of you.

A/n: Sorry loves that I’m slow with getting out chapters! There’s just a lot going on lately, so I apologize that this one is kinda short. Next chapter will be better!

Also, many thanks to those of you who voted! hehe I might have been a little biased and wanted Andy in the story too...

Warnings: mild profanity. more angst.

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist

On November 12th, a life you once knew was officially left behind.

That was the day a judge signed off his judgement and you and Ransom were officially divorced.

After all the hell he put you through, one would think you’d be happy. But honestly? You were still unhappy. Of course you’d never left him back in your life, yet your heart was still broken. 

It wasn’t supposed the end this way.

You weren’t ever supposed to be sitting in your car, alone, letting your confident facade fall, as your shoulders racked with heavy sobs.  

Unfortunately, life is just always full of surprises. Good and bad ones.

Today seemed as if it were just the perfect day for a divorce, if there was ever such a thing.

Rain heavily fell from the ominous-looking clouds, such as your tears uncontrollably streamed from your eyes. You were thankful for the dark lighting, making it impossible for the others parked in the dimly-lit parking garage to see your distressed state. 

Behind your tears, the radio quietly played, and you took a second to listen to the song, reaching forward to turn to volume up, just the slightest. Its lyrics spoke to you, and somehow you knew things were gonna be okay. 

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end it's better for me

That's the moral of the story 

Once your emotions made their much needed escape, you took a deep breath, as if you were starting afresh. This was your life now, and from here on out, you’d make the calls. Ransom was no longer looming around the back of your conscience and it was nice. He was of the past, and currently you were preparing for the future. Even your little one knew it, as they lightly kicked you, almost as if they were saying, ‘it’s gonna be okay.”

And you knew that was true. You had a baby on the way, and that was more than enough. A precious gift from the heavens, who would be making their appearance in a little over a month. Just the mere thought brought a smile to your face, one you caught in the rearview mirror. Analyzing the smile, you realized that it wasn’t forced and that you were finally, truly, happy. 

A few weeks had passed since the divorce, and you were functioning just fine, some would even say incredibly. For you, the dark clouds of your divorce and past love life had moved on, but for Ransom, it was quite the opposite…  

Ransom was miserably laying on his couch, legs propped over the armrest, head lazily laid on a throw pillow, half of his mind focusing on the tv, while the other half, imagined a time when you were there with him.

“Ransom, have I ever told you how much I loved you?” 

You hand rested on his soft and clean-shaven face, gazing happily into his never ending blue eyes. The man pretended to think, shaking his head then leaning forward to capture you lips in a kiss. Ransom pushed your back against the couch, as the two of you laughed, although still lipped locked. 

“Ransom…”

The man’s eyes may have been glued to the tv screen, but instead his mind was replaying the memory of you. He could even hear your voice, as if the daydream was nothing more than reality, until another voice cut into his mind. A higher pitched one, if you will.

“Ransom!”

He didn’t respond to the girl, the call of his name being mixed with two voices. Blair’s and yours. It took everything to hold onto to your voice and ignore the other. 

“Ransom.”

Finally, the woman’s voice, who was actually standing in front of him, broke through, shattering his memories and pushing him into reality.

Ransom quickly sat upright, to act as if nothing happened, allowing the smiling woman to sit in his lap, while peppering kisses over his jawline. Her kisses were nothing like yours. You kisses were filled will love and not lust.

“Oh Ranny. How did I get so lucky?”

He plastered a fake smile on his face, leaning into to kiss her nose, instantly repulsed by his own actions. 

“You know, I already did some wedding planning today.”

The words that left the woman’s mouth made Ransom’s constant thinking freeze. He had been so eager to getting over you that he blindly proposed to this woman, who was obviously no better than himself. She was going to put up with his shit, unlike you. That was definitely something he didn’t need in this new marriage. Actually he didn’t even need a marriage. 

“Blair, I’m sorry I just can’t.”

Her eyes grew like the size of saucers, as she hopped off of Ransom’s lap, standing tall and towering over the sitting man, clearly ready for a fight.

“Can’t what, Hugh?”

“Get married.”

The scoff she let out was loud enough to be heard in China, before her pitchy voice started yelling at Mr. Heartbreaker. She really was overreacting, this was Ransom Drysdale after all.

“You asshole! Is it because I’m not (y/n), huh is that it? Newsflash! She won’t take you back. You’ve fucked up Ransom and now you are losing me too!” 

At the mention of your name, a fire ignited inside Ransom. Yes, he screwed up, but he didn’t need anyone, especially Blair, to tell him that.

“Yeah, I screwed up, but you know what? We are both fuckers who ruin the lives of the ones we love. You knew damn well I was married, and seeing what I did to her, you knew what you were getting yourself into! I’m not blaming you, cause it takes two to tango, sweetheart!” 

Blair stared daggers into Ransom’s eyes, him doing the same, as both of their chests were heaving from their screaming match. The man had made a great point, although self-deprecating yet true. When he was married, he was so willingly ready to cheat, it was a sign that Ransom would never be ready to commit to anyone, even when he thought he was in love. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be arguing and drunk, though, while even sober, Ransom’s mind never functioned properly. Not after you left anyway. 

Their argument continued into the night, with Blair leaving behind her rock of a ring in the palm of Ransom’s hand. And truth be told, that when woman angrily strutted out the door, Ransom felt at ease for once. He had finally put a patch on his sinking boat that rocked in the large ocean of his fuck-ups. When the bed was empty that night, it felt nice. Why he ever traded you for Blair was beyond him, and he hated himself for it. But no, he knew you’d never take him back, you were too good for him. Hopefully, you’d find someone else who’d love you better than he treated you. For once, Ransom put your needs before his. If you were to show up on his doorstep tomorrow moring with an engagement ring, and a man at your waist, he’d hoensly congratulate you. As much as it would pain him to see you move on, he knew no amount of pain could weigh up to the heartbreak you felt. 

This was his punishment. 

It really did take all the physical restraint in Ransom to not run up to you, fall to his knees and beg when he saw you those weeks ago in court. It took everything in him to not call, and apologize for the hell he put you through. Because as much as you deserved an apology, he knew you’d never forgive him and it would hurt him even more.

For you, as the time to your due date got closer, you suddenly realized that one income might not be enough. Bills after bills can bleed one dry. So, last Saturday, you saw an ad online for a personal assistant, the requirements were slim and the hours were as needed. After four long days, you finally received a chance for an interview, which unfortunately occurred during your work hours. Lorraine, the sweetest woman on the planet, offered to work your shift, giving you the time to rush off to the DA’s office. Newton wasn’t too far of a drive, and at this point you’d travel across country just to give this precious life inside of you, a good beginning. Being eight months pregnant, probably ruined your chances of getting the job, but when you met your “hopefully soon-to-be boss”, he seemed to not care. Actually, he was willing to give you the jobs, but was concerned it would be to much for you. It took a few tries, but you finally assured the man, leaving his office only to see him again tomorrow. 

You came to know your boss as Andy Barber, a man with a heart of gold, and his worries always about you. It was endearing, and you started to unintentionally drift closer to the man. One late night in that very November, Andy had decided to work well past his usual hours. It was pitiful to see the man all alone in the building as the only source of light was at his desk. Thanksgiving holiday was coming up and Andy begged for you to go home and start your holiday break. For minutes your both “bickered” back and forth, until you finally left, giving Andy a sense of relief. He really did care about you, although he never said so. Your were his employee and he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. Well, until tonight anyway.

Just as Andy thought he’d sent you home, you came back ten minutes later, a small pizza box in one hand, while the other held a liter of soda. A grin spread across Andy’s face, as he stood up to take the box from you, clearing off room on his desk for the two of you to eat. While enjoying your makeshift dinner, you and Andy started to open up to each other even more, carrying on small talk, that led to something else.

“So how far along are you, (y/n)?”

“About eight months.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise, while also admiring you for your dedication. 

“Wow, that’s amazing! I can’t even imagine how hard all of this is for you.”

Your boss motioned to all of the paperwork on his desk, to which you just shook your head. It really wasn’t an inconvenience at all. 

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I’m the only one making a home for this baby, so I do what I can.”

Your eyes trailed up from your belly to be met with Andy’s sympathetic smile.

“I wouldn’t have known, but I do know this baby has the best mother of them all.”

At the compliment you let out a small laugh, a sound that made Andy beam, as the two of you continued to work on some files. To keep the night from falling silent, you continued to talk with the man, not missing a beat in your conversation. 

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. My husband, err, ex-husband, Ransom, cheated on me, but he did leave me this precious gift.” 

For some reason, you felt compelled to tell Andy your story, like you needed to get it off your chest to someone other than Lorraine. Come to think about it, Andy was the only other person you trusted, Lorraine, of course, being the first. In the two weeks you had worked together, the man had made an everlasting impression on you. 

Oh good god, why did you just spill your guts to the man? He probably doesn't care for your sob story--

“Ransom? As in Ransom Drysdale?”

You nodded your head, preparing yourself for some spew of judgement.

“That’s right! I’ve heard of him... and you. The two of you seemed in love. I’m so sorry (y/n), you didn’t deserve it, honey.

Not only were you shocked that Andy did genuinely care, but the pet name sounded like it was a second nature to him, which seemed to make your heart swell. 

“Thanks. It’s led me here though! To this amazing job with my lovely boss.”

Feeling a surge of confidence, with hopes that maybe Andy felt the same way, you shot him a playful wink. Your eyes dazzling in the yellow light of the desk lamp, making Andy view you almost as an angel. Thank the heavens he wasn’t standing, because your adorable wink made his knees weak. 

If Andy was going to become close to you as he hoped, now was the time to come clean about his past, and serve it on a platter as you had done. A good relationship always starts with trust. 

“Well if it makes it any better, I went through something similar. My wife left me years ago, with my son too. Last year, I went to go visit them, only to find they’d been in a car accident-”

A stray drop of a tear fell onto the paper underneath Andy, and it broke your heart to see him this way. It was obviously hard for him to tell the story, and you’d heard enough. Deciding to make a bold move, you moved around the desk and wrapped your arms around Andy’s shoulders. 

The man solemnly turned towards you, his chair swiveling around along with him, giving you the space to sit on his knees, while holding him close. His beard tickled your neck, as silent tears were shed. Your hand soothingly ran along his back, as you placed soft kisses to his temple. Andy’s arms were at your twisted waist, the baby bump slightly in the way, although you had turned your body to accommodate the man’s large figure. 

The two of you stayed locked in each other’s embrace for a long four minutes, until Andy pulled back, his arms still around your waist. Slowly, you brought your hand around from his neck, and to his cheek, using your thumb to wipe at the dry tears. Andy leaned into your touch and smiled contently at you. He was a broken man, who needed some love. Exactly the kind you’d shown him. 

Without second thought, you pressed your lips to Andy’s, noticing how his lips felt different than Ransom’s, his beard making you giggle just a bit. After what seemed to be forever, you and Andy reluctantly pulled away from each other, blissful smiles on your faces. 

From that night forward, you and Andy Barber started dating. Dinners out after long nights of work, or movies at home. He reminded you so much of how Ransom was in the beginning, except this time, you knew that this man wouldn't break your heart. 

For Thanksgiving, you invited Andy over for dinner as the two of you were all alone this year, no family this time, and your friends had their own lives. 

Dinner started out great, you and Andy bought a small Turkey, basting and then roasting it, along with making some side dishes, most of them being microwaveable. Honestly, the food had tasted delicious regardless of the way it was cooked. 

Just as you were about to dig into the feast before your eyes, a text message rang through on your phone. Who would be texting you at this hour, especially on thanksgiving?

Ransom- I know this isn’t the time, but I was wondering if tomorrow you’d like to go out for lunch. Not as a date or anything, but so I can apologize to you and explain. I’m not looking for forgiveness, but you deserve to know.” 

Your face looked as if you had seen a ghost, the expression scaring Andy as he had peeked up from his plate to see you not eating, and instead staring into the void of your cell phone screen. 

“(y/n), what’s wrong?” 

Reaching across the table, Andy grabbed your free hand, slightly startling you from your deep thoughts. 

“Uh. Ransom. He texted me. Asked for lunch tomorrow to explain everything.” 

The man, still holding your hand, shook his head, prompting you to continue on with the story. 

A part of you wondered why the events of the past had happened, and to get closure, you needed answers. Maybe it wasn’t in your best interest, but the curiosity inside of you was piqued. Now that you knew Ransom was willingly ready to talk, you also knew that if you didn’t take this opportunity, it would instead eat away at you. Something that you definitely didn’t need. 

“Andy, what should I do?”

“Oh honey, I know you want to know what happened , so go. But if you ever feel uncomfortable, call me and I’ll be there to kick his ass.” 

You laughed at Andy’s protectiveness, and lightly kissed his hand that was enclosing yours. Looking down, you felt a tiny yet powerful kick. A sign from the little one that his or her father still didn’t know about their existence. The ending of Ransom’s text flashed in your brain, the irony of it all laughing at you. 

You deserve to know. 

Ransom was an asshole, that’s for sure, but in the end he fathered this child, and deserved to know that much. The same went for yourself, as you were entitled to the story that destroyed your marriage. 

Tomorrow is definitely gonna be one for the books...

another a/n: If you’ve made it here (the end) I applaud you very much, but while you’re here, I apologize for this chapter. The writing style is that of a fifth grader, and I am forever ashamed that i actually posted it haha. 

Anyway, the next chapter should hopefully be better!

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